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Fri Dec 16, 2011 5:02 am
Snoink says...



Er... a couple of notes! This is me playing around with my novel. The fourth part is something that I wrote relatively recently. It's not working right, at all. Or maybe it is? I can't tell anymore. I really need help here.

This is a long piece. If you can't make it through it because it's too boring or whatever, tell me where you stopped. It'll be very helpful.

The separations indicate new chapters. Yes, the chapters are short.

~


The freak landed on the stairs. It took thirty seconds for her to catch her breath and another minute before she finally moved. She winced and sat up stiffly, blinking away tears.
Behind her was the house, a peeling, two-story monster that she had lived in for all her life, and all around her was a barbwire fence, facing in. The freak stood up slowly and looked around, limping to the gate, which had been opened earlier this morning. Beyond the fence there was a poor neighborhood full of rundown apartments. Sometimes she could hear screaming coming from the buildings, but now it was quiet.
She paused as she neared the opened gate. She wasn’t worried about anyone coming inside; nobody would come into a place with so many freaks. But freaks were never allowed to go anywhere beyond. She looked through the chain link fence and shivered. No one was there, but nobody was ever there. Only trash walked the streets. As she watched, an old newspaper charged down. The freak stared at it for a moment before squinting at the apartments across from her. They were ugly buildings with peeling white paint, crammed so close together that she wondered if the people there leapt through each others’ windows, just to say hello. She turned back to the newspaper.
It landed in the gutter.
She frowned and tiptoed outside, searching for any cars that might be her new master’s. The headmistress had forgotten to ask what it looked like, but that was all right. Since he was rich, the freak guessed he had a lovely car that was a light blue, streaked with green and maybe, if he were really rich, with pink as well. After all, those were pretty colors and if he were rich, why wouldn’t he buy pretty things?
There were no cars in sight, not even ugly ones. The freak put her back to the fence, holding the chain links in one hand and her dog tag in the other, and looked to the sky. It was gray, but every minute or so, the factories nearby would groan, a burst of orange flame shooting up. She thought this was pretty.
Five minutes passed, then ten, and there was still no car. The freak shivered and clutched her dog tag harder still, wondering whether her new master was coming at all. It wouldn’t matter very much if he didn’t show up. He had already arranged the payment to arrive today, so the headmistress would be happy with whatever happened, unless he returned her and asked for his money back. But if he didn’t come, the freak knew that the headmistress wouldn’t keep her. Instead, she would be sent away...
Perhaps he was in a rose car. She smiled.
An hour passed and the freak became even more anxious. She tried to stay still, pressing herself deeper into the fence, but her eyes kept glancing at the buildings that surrounded her. If other people saw her outside—well, they wouldn’t like that at all. She kept expecting someone to come to her and force her back, but the road was deserted.
It was thirty minutes later when a black sedan drove up and stopped right in front of her. At first, the freak figured that it was a mistake. The car was much too ugly for to be his, she knew that. She shied away, her grip on the fence becoming tighter. Then, after a minute, she stepped up uncertainly and waved her dog tag to the purple-tinted window.
The car door opened.
The air that came from the inside was cold and as soon as it touched her skin, goose bumps erupted all over her arms. She backed away, hoping to get away from the cold when she saw a man inside, blinking out at the sun. When he saw her necklace, he frowned. “Well? Aren’t you coming?”
The freak curtseyed. “Please sir, are you my new master?” Her voice was barely a squeak.
This question seemed to irritate him. “Of course I am. If I wasn’t, why would I pick you up?” The freak’s eyes widened and she nodded quickly.
“Thank you, sir.”
“Sit down.” He gestured to some rags beside him.
The freak’s face turned white. She glanced at the rags, layered neatly on each other, and then at the man, an arm’s length away from the rags, his face unreadable. “There?” she asked. She felt dizzy.
“Would you rather be tied to the roof?” When the freak squeaked and jumped back, he shook his head and pointed to the rags once more. “Sit down.”
She sat.
“Very good.” The man signaled the driver and leaned back, frowning.
It was quiet.
The freak was terrified. Freaks were never supposed to be this close to normal people. At first, she curled into a little ball, hoping he wouldn’t notice her, but as time passed without a word, she peered out, first at his dull black shoes and then, finally, to his face.
His face shocked her. He looked old. It wasn’t that he was completely unattractive. He was slim and in his early fifties, his hair just beginning to gray. He wore a suit that was worn, but hung around him pleasantly enough. But his face! When he was younger, it might have been attractive, but now his skin sagged and looked so old and yellow that she thought it might peel off at any moment. Nor did his eyes look right. The purple world rushed by them, but he stared straight ahead, his eyelids heavy and his eyes jaundiced and hard. He didn’t seem to see anything.
She wanted to say something nice to him, but she wasn’t sure what, so she looked out the window instead, letting her breath fog it up.
“What are you doing?”
The freak jumped and shrunk back into her seat at his voice. “Nothing, sir.” He frowned and turned away.
She didn’t dare move.
After a couple of minutes of silence, she peeked outside again. Everything was purple and distorted through the tinted glass and the buildings all twisted into strange shapes. She stared at this with wonder before turning back to the gentleman. The man was watching her gravely, but as soon as she turned to him, he looked the other way.
The farther they drove, the more upset the gentleman appeared to be and the more he openly stared at her. Finally, he turned to the freak. “And what is that smell?”
The freak was surprised. “Sir?”
“That smell. It’s coming from you.” The freak was too shocked to say anything. She sunk into her seat. “It’s kerosene, isn’t it?” His voice was getting shriller and he sounded more upset. “Why would anybody put kerosene on a freak?”
The freak replied that she didn’t know, but she was very sorry. This quieted him for a moment and he stared moodily ahead.
Finally he turned back to the freak. His face flinched—the freak guessed in disgust—and he said with a forced politeness, “Do you know what your duties are?”
The freak nodded quickly. “You wanted me to take care of your little girl.”
The man scowled. “First of all, my daughter Sarah is not a little girl. She’s fifteen.”
The freak started at this. “But sir!” The freak stopped when he glared at her. She sunk back into her seat.
“Apparently, there was a slight miscommunication between the headmistress and myself. But my daughter is not a little girl, nor do I want her to be treated as one. She is a woman and she desires respect and a companion, though she is unaware of this fact yet. She also needs discipline, although unaware of this fact also.”
The freak frowned at this. “Sir, I don’t understand.” She winced as she said this and expected to be hit. Instead, the gentleman just sighed.
“Never mind that,” he said. “You’ll understand the situation soon enough. What is important is that you are here. And for now, that is enough.”
The freak stared at him.
She wanted to speak with him, to ask him a question, but when she opened her mouth, the gentleman turned away and refused to look at her, even when she coughed politely. After a minute, she gave up and turned to the window, watching fields of purple fly past. Every once in a while, she glanced at the gentleman, but his face was decidedly pointed away.
Trees began to dot the purpled landscape, their lilac scraggly branches stretched towards the freak. She watched them eagerly. Most of the trees were old and sagging, but once they passed a young tree with blossoms tipping the branches like bright amethyst jewels. The freak gasped when she saw it and looked back to see it better, but it was gone.
“Spring is a little late, isn’t it?” the man murmured.
The freak started in her seat and glanced at the man, frightened. But he was only staring out the window, where the tree had been. When she realized he wouldn’t hit her, she nodded politely and smoothed out her dress. “Yes sir, it is,” she said politely.
He glanced at her face, disappointed. “We’re almost there,” he said.
Finally, they stopped. The freak tore her eyes away from the window and turned to the gentleman. He glanced at her once before stepping out of the car.
“Aren’t you coming out?”
The freak blushed, her eyes darting wonderingly about the car. The driver was already walking away and the two of them were left together. She opened her mouth and then closed it, looking at the gentleman desperately.
He frowned. “This is your first car ride, isn’t it?” When she said nothing to this, he sighed and walked to the opposite side, opening the door for her. “Come follow me.” Then, without looking back, he headed towards the house.
She scrambled to catch up with him, but he walked too quickly and she was too weak to be fast. When he arrived at the door, it was all she could do to cry, “Sir!”
The gentleman stopped at the sound of her voice and watched her stagger up the stairs and finally to his side. She panted heavily, looking up at him. “Please sir,” she gasped. “I’m sorry.”
“For what?” When the freak hesitated, he shook his head. “I would have waited.” With that, he pushed the door open. “Welcome home, Freak.”
She gasped.
It felt like she was walking in a dream. Soft chairs and sofas were strewn about, colorful yarn blankets tossed haphazardly across all the furniture. And instead of a peeling white paint, the walls were made up of rich maple panels, decorated by pictures of bright antique airplanes, swirling in lovely blue skies.
In the middle of the room, a big woman in her late fifties adjusted some pillows on the oversized chairs. The gentleman coughed and stepped forward.
“Elsa?”
The woman wheeled around, frowning. “What do you want?” she began to ask. And then she saw the freak. Her eyes grew wide and she stepped back. “What is that?”
The man smiled faintly and nudged the freak forward. “Please, I would like you to meet Elsa, the head housekeeper. Elsa? This is the freak.”
The freak nervously straightened out her dress and curtseyed. “Good afternoon, madam,” she squeaked. “It is very nice to meet you.”
Elsa looked sick.
“Oh my,” she whispered. “What happened to her? She looks terrible. Oh my. She is such a delicate thing. I thought you were buying an older freak?”
“She is an older freak,” the man said coolly. “The oldest one I could find. She’s just a little underdeveloped, that’s all.” He turned to the freak. “Give me your dog tags.”
Instantly the freak’s hand shot up to her necklace. “Sir,” she began. He shook his head.
“I know,” he said sympathetically. “It’s illegal for you to take them off. But this is only for a moment. I won’t let you get in trouble, not for this. Come now.”
She reluctantly took off her necklace and handed it to him, her neck feeling naked.
He peered at the dog tag and nodded. “According to this, she is twenty years old.”
Elsa gasped. “Twenty! She looks twelve. And she is supposed to be in good condition? Oh dear! Have you checked her teeth? You should always check for things like that before you buy them. Oh, why would you pick a freak without looking at her first?”
He shrugged. “It’s too late now. What would you like me to do? Send her away?”
The freak cried out in alarm and stepped back. Fortunately for her, Elsa had the same reaction.
“No, no, you needn’t send her away. Oh dear, no. If anything, kill her instead. That would probably be the nicest thing you could do. She’s been through enough already.”
He shrugged. “Perhaps. But she’s a freak. They heal quickly. She’ll be fine.”
“I suppose.” Elsa sighed and glanced around the room. “Look, if I can get another servant to finish up this room, I can at least clean her up so she smells somewhat decent. You would like that, wouldn’t you, sweetie?”
The freak’s eyes went wide and she stepped back. The man frowned.
“You are not to call her by a name. She is a freak.”
Elsa snorted. “Oh, bother! Rules, rules, rules. Always such a nuisance. I bet that, if they didn’t starve her, she would look plenty human enough.”
He sighed. “Elsa, that talk is unacceptable here. You know better.”
“Oh, I know plenty of things. But this isn’t right, sir. This just isn’t right. And then you won’t even kill her.”
“Elsa...”
When he was sure that Elsa would not say anything more, the man took out an envelope from his pocket and tore it open, bringing out a shiny dog tag. Then he turned to the freak. “This dog tag signifies that I am your new master. Do you understand?”
“Yes sir.”
He nodded and clipped on the dog tag, putting the chain back around her neck. “Go with Elsa. She’ll help you.” The freak curtseyed.
“Thank you, sir.”
She might have said more, but then Elsa touched her shoulder. “Let’s get out of here,” she murmured.

~

The freak wanted to look at the rest of the house, but Elsa walked so quickly that all she could see were blurs of brown walls. Finally, just when the freak thought her legs were about to collapse, Elsa stopped.
“You’re going in this bathroom.”
Elsa opened the door and the freak tiptoed in. She expected everything to be white, but the walls were covered in light green tiles and the floor was layered with such an assortment of mismatched towels that the colors were overwhelming. The freak blinked and curled her toes into the towels.
“It’s not as pretty as the other bathrooms, but it’ll serve very nicely for our purposes.”
“Pretty?”
Elsa turned on the bathwater and wrinkled her nose. “Kerosene, isn’t it? What a stupid woman your owner was.” She put her hand under the faucet and frowned. “Yes, this is good. Strip off those horrid things and come in.”
The freak took off the dress carefully. “It’s new,” she said.
Elsa snorted. “Yes, a new sackcloth which is probably infested with lice, just like you. Or do you think I don’t know why you’re doused with kerosene? Get in!”
The freak cringed. “I was bathed before I left.”
“I said, get in.” Elsa snatched away the dress and pushed the freak into the water. At first, the freak tensed up, expecting the water to be cold, but it was warm. She eased into the tub and watched Elsa.
“Thank you, madam,” she said.
“Shut up.” Elsa glared at the dress and tossed it aside. “Garbage, all of it. We’ll have to get something else for you. Pity, really. You’ll probably be dead within the day.”
The freak’s eyes widened.
Elsa glanced at the freak and laughed. “Didn’t the master tell you? Sarah, the little dear, hates all of her maidservants. And she’ll definitely hate you. But at least the master won’t send you away. Now hold still. I am going to shave your head.”
The freak winced as Elsa pulled at her hair, but stayed quiet, even when the razor nicked her scalp and blood ran down her nose. She only sneezed once from the blood tickling her nostril, though she made sure to apologize to Elsa profusely afterwards until Elsa told her to shut up.
Finally, Elsa stopped, looking at her handiwork. “You’re hideous,” she said. “Wait. I think there are bandages in the cabinet.”
While Elsa bent down to look, the freak cleared her throat nervously. “Madam? Are you sure that Miss Sarah will hate me?”
Elsa grunted. “Positive. She’ll think you’re a spy from her father, sent to ruin her life.” She came back with a bottle of rubbing alcohol and some cotton. “Best to try and stop the bleeding first,” she said. “Maybe we won’t even need the bandages.”
The freak looked nervous. “What is a spy?”
“Someone smarter than you.” She dabbed the alcohol on the freak, and the freak yelped. “Shut up,” Elsa said, annoyed. “This is good for you.”
The freak nodded and stayed still, tears burning in her eyes. Then, when Elsa finally stopped and turned away, the freak rubbed her eyes quickly with her arms. “I can work as a servant, if Miss Sarah does not want me,” she said. “I’m a good worker.”
“I don’t think that would be a smart idea.” Elsa came back with bandages. “Do you have any other places that hurt, besides your head?”
“I feel fine.”
Elsa’s eyes narrowed. “Do you really?”
The freak nodded. I am ready to work. I am a good worker. The headmistress always said so. She even gave me double rations!”
Elsa blinked. “Rations? Of food?” When the freak hesitated, Elsa frowned. “Come up and look in the mirror.”
The freak reluctantly stood up and looked at herself. She couldn’t see much—her eyes were bad, but she could see colors. She looked like a yellow blob with purple stripes along her body.
“You cannot honestly say that she gave you double rations. Not when you look like this.”
The freak blushed. “I don’t need much food,” she said. “I know I am starting at the bottom. I am happy to be here.” She touched the mirror experimentally, poking the two brown eyes that stared back at her. Then she turned to Elsa and tried to smile. “Thank you for the shave, madam. I look much better now.”
“You look like a skeleton.”
The freak gave an unsure smile. “Thank you.”
Elsa scowled. “Go back in the tub.”
The freak sat down, feeling as if she made some sort of mistake, but not understanding how. As soon as she did, Elsa plunged the freak entirely into the bath and then brought her out, choking and sputtering. With that, Elsa took something out of her pocket and put it in front of the freak’s nose.
“Soap,” she said when the freak sniffed it curiously.
It took hours. By the time Elsa was done with all the scrubbing and shaving and bandaging, the freak’s fingers felt swollen. She rubbed her hands together while Elsa wrapped a fluffy pink towel around her shoulders.
“Now, to find clothes for you.” She glanced at the freak and frowned. “What’s your favorite color?”
“Color?”
“Yes. Red, yellow, blue…”
“I like yellow.”
“How about purple?”
The freak looked down at the purple stripes on her legs and shook her head.
Elsa looked down at where the freak was looking and frowned. “Yellow it is. Stay right here. I’ll be back.” With that, Elsa left.
When she came back, she had the most beautiful dress that the freak had ever seen. It was yellow and frilly with so much lace that the freak could barely see Elsa’s head as she carried the bundle. “Is that for me?” the freak said, excited.
“If it fits. It used to be Sarah’s, when she was a little girl, but she outgrew it. It’ll probably fit you fine.”
“Will Miss Sarah be upset?” the freak said, fingering the lace.
“Sarah will call for your death either way. Remember?” When the freak looked up, alarmed, Elsa laughed. “If you have to die, it might as well be in something half-decent.”
“I can be a servant,” the freak said quickly.
Elsa snorted. “Sure. Along with the rest of the servants, who have sworn that they will kill you if you ever get in the way.” When the freak’s eyes widened, Elsa started counting on her fingers. “Isabel’s father was killed by a freak. Nancy’s brother was killed by a freak. Edna’s daughters were killed by a freak. Jennifer’s parents and sister were killed by two freaks. And that’s only a partial list. Do you think they want you around them?”
Tears filled her eyes. “I promise to be good.”
Elsa nodded. “So when the master offers to kill you, be a good freak and don’t struggle when you die. It’ll make it easier for him. Here.” Elsa took the dress and pulled it over the freak’s head. “You look beautiful,” she said when the freak straightened the dress.
The freak glanced up at her, scared. “Before I die, will they let me take a drink of water?” she said, her voice quavering. “I am very thirsty.”
Elsa took a towel and soaked it in water before giving it to the freak. “Suck on it,” she said. “You’ll feel better.”
The freak took the towel obediently and sucked it dry.
“Time to go, Freak.”

~

It was too soon when Elsa finally stopped at a door and unlocked it, shoving the freak in.
“Good luck,” she grunted.
The door closed.
And she was overwhelmed. Purple was everywhere, in the carpet, in the curtains, on the walls—even the large white couch in the center of the room was covered in purple quilts and blankets. They weren’t the same purples, of course. Some were the light purples of a healing bruise, others were the deep purples of a black eye, and they were all arranged in a way that was meant to look appealing. But the color was so strong that the freak’s head spun and she felt like she was drowning.
It was a moment before she noticed a stream of sunlight that made rainbows on the lilac floor and another moment before she realized that the sunlight came from a window that the dark purple curtains hadn’t quite covered. Through the curtains, she could see a glimpse of green...
“I suppose you’re my new maidservant.”
The freak jumped back, startled, and looked around desperately. “Miss?” she began nervously when she saw a pretty girl rise up from the couch, a lavender quilt tossed over her shoulders. Her hair was a pale yellow and even her bold purple dress didn’t hide the pink in her cheeks. The freak blushed. She curtseyed. “Good afternoon, miss.”
The girl frowned. “Did my father hire you as my maidservant?”
“Yes, miss.” The freak wished her voice were stronger. “I’m sorry,” she added, curtseying again.
The girl ignored her. “What is your name?” she asked, sitting up.
“Miss—” The freak didn’t know what to say. Her eyes went back and forth and she began to tremble. “Miss—Miss Sarah, isn’t it? I am sorry, I don’t have—”
The girl scowled at her. “Just as well. Get out. You can tell my father that I do not need a servant, and, furthermore, if this is just another of his idiotic attempts at controlling me, then it hasn’t worked.”
The freak opened her mouth and shut it quickly. “Miss, miss, please!”
“What’s this?” The girl sounded amused.
The freak looked upset. “Please, miss! Don’t worry. I’m not your servant. Or, I am your servant, but that doesn’t mean—” the freak stopped talking, confused. She looked at Sarah hopefully. Sarah stood up, brushing herself off.
“So you are an idiot, are you not?”
“If it pleases you, my lady.”
Sarah sniffed. “Very well then, come with me.” She strode to the door and opened it, making a mock bow to the freak.
The freak blushed and curtseyed, hesitating at the doorway.
Sarah glared at her. “Aren’t you coming out?”
“Miss, please,” the freak said quickly. “I promise to be a good servant, the best you’ve ever had. My headmistress always said—”
Sarah’s eyes flashed. “Name one reason why I should keep you.”
The freak stared at her. “Miss, please—”
“That’s what I thought.” She gestured for the freak to move. “Let’s go.”
“Wait!” the freak said, grinding her heels in the doorway. “Please, miss.”
Sarah crossed her arms. “I’m listening.”
The freak twisted her fingers together. “It won’t cost much to feed me. I don’t eat much at all. You don’t even have to feed me for the first couple of days, if it pleases you. I can work without food.”
“So?”
And the freak didn’t know what to say to that. She swallowed twice and tried not to cry. “I will do anything—” she started.
Sarah snorted. “Yes, like spy on me to my father. Don’t think that I am an idiot.” She pointed to the hallway. “Out.”
The freak shied away, as if she would hit her. “Please, miss—”
“I said, out!”
Sarah started walking and the freak followed her, stumbling. The hallway seemed to go on forever and every twist they made, her heart jumped a little more. It was agony walking down the staircase. Finally, just when the freak felt hopelessly lost, Sarah shoved open a door.
Inside was the gentleman the freak had met in the car, sitting at a desk with a large stack of papers beside him. If he knew they were in the room, he didn’t show it; he didn’t look up and occasionally he scribbled something in a deep red journal beside him. The freak blushed and curtseyed anyway.
Sarah stood and watched him.
“Let me guess,” he said finally, not looking up. “You are dissatisfied with my purchase and would like to return it immediately. Before I will even consider returning it, give me a reason. Why is it insufficient for your needs?”
Sarah blinked. “Insufficient! What are you talking about?”
He looked up hopefully. This encouraged Sarah and she gave an important cough.
“I am having problems with my new maidservant.”
He looked down and sighed. “I am very busy now, daughter. Why are you here?”
“You’re the one who keeps giving me these maidservants. Do you deny it?”
“No.”
His short answer discouraged her. “Well, I don’t want one. Especially this one.”
“What has this one done to you?”
She snorted and drew herself higher. “She is an idiot—she has freely admitted it herself. She cannot talk, she cannot think, and besides that, she has a ghastly air about her.”
“Ghastly air?” He looked confused for a moment and then laughed. “Oh, you mean you think she looks ugly?”
They both looked at the freak, Sarah with contempt and her father with amusement. The freak blushed and curtseyed again, straightening out her lovely yellow dress.
“Partly,” Sarah said, turning back to her father. “But that is not the only reason that I want to send her off. You see—” Sarah began, setting down comfortably. The freak’s eyes widened.
They were going to send her away.
It took everything in the freak to keep her from crying. As it was, she felt like she had no control of her body. Her legs and arms trembled involuntarily and she felt like she couldn’t breathe. Elsa had said that the master would kill her, not send her away. Never send her away. But the master had suggested it once already. And wouldn’t it make sense? After all, she never even demonstrated what a good freak she was. Why should he waste his kindness on a good death for her when he could make a simple phone call and send her away forever?
She watched Sarah talk to her father and her father looking on, sometimes bored, sometimes annoyed. The freak wanted to interrupt, but that would be rude (and illegal) so she stayed quiet.
Finally, the man interrupted Sarah. “Are you sure you want to get rid of her?”
“Yes, quite sure.”
He sighed. “Then do as I say. In this desk on the right hand side in the third drawer to the bottom there is something you will need. Open this drawer.” He didn’t look up and Sarah paused strangely before going to the desk.
“There’s a couple of pens here and—” she stopped, her eyes wide.
“A gun, loaded with exactly one bullet and cocked. Be exceedingly careful when handling it—do not touch the trigger. Take it out.” Sarah looked surprised and a little fearful, but took it out very carefully nonetheless.
“Why is this here?”
Her father ignored her question. “Take the gun and point it at the freak.”
“What!”
He looked annoyed. “The freak. Your maidservant, as you call her. Point it at the freak’s chest, straight at her heart, and shoot. Do not point it at the freak’s head as that method is too messy. It may kill instantly, but I don’t want the rugs to be stained with too much blood. The servants will complain; besides the rugs were expensive.”
Sarah looked horrified, but the freak didn’t care anymore. She stepped forward and looked at the man pleadingly. “You will not send me away then?”
He shook his head. “No. Sarah will shoot you instead. Step away from the carpet.”
The freak fingered the yellow fabric of her dress and nodded, her hands shaking. “Thank you, sir,” she said, stepping off the carpet obediently. “You are very kind.”
“Don’t thank me, thank Sarah. She’ll be the one shooting you.”
Sarah stared at the gun in her hands. She didn’t move for a minute and the only noise was the shuffle of her father sorting papers. She finally looked up, her face twisted strangely. “The bullets are blanks.”
“Do you think so?”
Sarah seemed wholly convinced now. “Yes. It doesn’t make sense for you to just hand me a gun that is fully loaded. If I wanted to, I could shoot you instead.”
“True.” He didn’t sound remotely concerned about this and kept sorting papers. “I suppose you could if you wanted. But it’s not fully loaded. There’s only one bullet there at the moment—I took the other five out. If you killed me, you would not be able to kill the freak.”
“And what if I didn’t want to kill the freak?”
“Then I would think you a fool.” He continued sorting papers.
Sarah stopped and then, biting her lip, she stepped up and put the gun to her father’s head. He paused and turned to her, the gun still at his head. Then he laughed bitterly.
“Sadie, you are one of the most amazing women I have ever met.”
“The bullets are blanks.”
“If you say so.”
He watched her, interested as her face contorted into different emotions. His face was calm and even amused. Finally Sarah smiled and then, pointing the gun away from her father’s head and to a couch instead, she fired.
The sound was loud; the freak could hear her ears ringing and not much else. The couch had a deep hole in it and its stuffing was leaking out. Sarah’s father looked at it with a frown. “Pity, I liked that couch.”
Sarah’s eyes went wide and, with a cry, she dropped the gun and ran out. The freak looked at her and then at Sarah’s father pleadingly.
He lifted his eyebrows. “Well? Follow her.”
The freak curtseyed and ran after Sarah, her pretty yellow dress swishing at her heels.

~

By the time the freak had entered the room, Sarah was already there, sitting on the floor. The freak felt like her lungs would collapse, but she stood up anyway and watched Sarah.
“Your father told me to come here,” the freak said once she’d caught her breath.
“Did he?” Sarah didn’t look up, nor did she sound particularly interested.
The freak waited.
Finally, Sarah stood up and looked at the freak strangely. “Why didn’t you tell me that you were a freak?”
“I thought you knew,” she said, her voice trembling. “My dog tags—”
“I don’t see any dog tags.”
The freak looked down—the dog tags were hidden by the dress. She blushed. “I’m sorry, miss,” she said, bringing them out. They clinked together sweetly. “If I had known—”
Sarah stood up, pale. “So your face,” she said with difficulty. “Your skin. That’s not colored, is it?”
The freak cringed. “The headmistress sandpapered my cheeks before,” she admitted. “Rosy cheeks are good.”
“And that blood on your head? It’s real?”
The freak nodded. “Elsa did that,” she explained quickly. “She was very kind.”
Sarah walked up to her and traced a fingernail across the freak’s cheek, dragging it along the wrinkles underneath her eyes. Then she dug her nail into the freak’s cheek. The freak cried out and jerked away. Then, when she realized what she done, she moved back to Sarah.
“I’m sorry,” the freak said, “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to move. You can hurt me more. I don’t mind.”
“That’s real. That’s real blood,” Sarah said, surprised, staring at her finger strangely. “I thought it was fake. It looked like it was just a mask.” And then she threw herself on the couch and started to cry.
The freak shifted nervously. “Miss?” Then, when Sarah didn’t say anything, she stepped back. “Miss?”
“My name’s not Miss!” Sarah cried, springing up, her face red and blotchy. “It’s Sarah.”
The freak flinched. “It’s a very pretty name.”
“You would say that,” Sarah said angrily, pacing. “Of course you would. You don’t know. You don’t even have a name. They treat me as a slave here, and it is my name that enslaves me.”
The freak winced. “I’m sorry.”
“But, of course I can’t complain about it with you here, because you’re worse off than me,” she continued, as if the freak hadn’t spoken. “You’re here to make me feel bad. So if I complain how people disrespect me—and they do, make no mistake about that—they can always point at you and say, ‘Well, at least you’re not her.’ And then, what am I supposed to say to that?”
“You can say that you aren’t a freak.”
“And what good would that do?” Sarah sat back on the couch, putting her knees up to her chest. “I don’t want you, Freak. I hope you don’t mind, but I can’t stand the thought of you being around so that I would be constantly compared to you. It would kill me.”
The freak’s heart sank. “I understand.”
“I hope you don’t mind, but that’s just the way it is.”
“I understand.” Her mouth was dry.
“I’m not angry with you,” Sarah said quickly. “I know you don’t mean anything bad. But you must understand. It’s not about you. It’s about him. He does this all the time. Tries to toy with me. And I don’t want to do this anymore. I am sick of it. You understand, don’t you?”
The freak nodded, trembling. “Will you kill me?”
Sarah’s face paled. “Never. We’ll send you back to where you came from. But don’t worry, you can stay the night, as long as you are good. That way, we can have you shipped back properly. I’m sure your headmistress will be happy to have you back if you’re as good of a worker as you say you are. Does that sound good?”
The freak’s heart sank. “If it pleases you,” she said, weakly.
Sarah’s face brightened. “Very well then!” she cried, standing up once more. “Now that we’ve settled that, we can have fun, at least for the night. You can sleep on the couch. I have a couple of extra blankets that you can use. And I have night-light, but it’s buried somewhere in my bedroom. I hid it when Elsa tried to make me use it. She thinks I am still a baby. But it’ll come in handy now.”
“Thank you, Miss Sarah.”
“Call me Sadie. That’s what my friends call me. It’s a prettier name, don’t you think?” She took a key out of her pocket and wrestled with a doorknob. When she saw the freak’s confused face, she said, “This is my bedroom, but you aren’t to come inside. In fact, this is the only key in the house that can get in.” She opened the door and peered inside. “The light should be in here somewhere. I’ll be right out. Make yourself at home!”
When Sarah disappeared into her room, the freak sunk down to her knees on the plush carpet and closed her eyes. It was the loveliest feeling she had ever felt. “May I have some water, Miss Sarah?”
“It’s Sadie,” Sarah called out from her room. “And yes, you may. Wait a moment! I’ll get a glass for you after I find the light. I think it’s under—ouch! Oh. Definitely not there.”
The freak swayed. “If it’s inconvenient, I don’t need water,” she said.
“Nonsense. Wait a moment.” Sarah came out of her room, rubbing her fingers, grimacing. “I smashed my fingers,” she said to the freak. When the freak looked at her curiously, she held up her hand.
The freak winced. “I am sorry.”
“Never mind. Here, let me get you some water.” She disappeared into another room and came back with a glass of water. “There! For you. It’s my cup, but you can use it for now while you’re here for the night. I don’t really drink much anyway.”
“Are you sure?”
“Positive.”
The freak stared at the cup lustfully. “You should drink first,” she said, her voice trembling. “I will have what’s left.”
Sarah glared at her. “Just drink it.”
The freak took the cup Sarah gave her, her hands trembling. She had been used to water that was rusty, however the glass that Sarah had given her was completely clear and, if she hadn’t been trembling so much, the water would have looked like crystal. She gulped down the water and sat back, dazed. It made her stomach hurt.
“Do you want more?” Sarah asked. “You seem to be thirsty.”
The freak nodded. “If it’s not inconvenient, Miss Sarah,” she added quickly.
Sarah rolled her eyes. “Of course it isn’t. And it’s Sadie, remember? Speaking of which, what am I supposed to call you anyway? Just Freak?”
“Yes, please.”
Sarah snorted. “That’s stupid. I’m calling you by another name.” She thought for a moment. “How do you like Bethany?”
The freak’s face turned pale. “Bethany?”
“Maybe Beth for short.” She laughed at this and disappeared once more. When she came back, she held another full glass. “Here you go, Beth,” she said. “And I’ll call Elsa and tell her to make you some food. You’ll like some food, won’t you, Beth?
The freak hesitated before taking the glass. “We aren’t allowed names.”
Sarah snorted. “Even for just the night?”
The freak nodded. “If we have names, we’ll be sent away.”
“Of course. Because you’re a freak.” When the freak nodded, Sarah frowned and sat across from the freak. “Tell me honestly, why do you think that you are a freak?”
The freak dropped her eyes. “A fire comes out of my pinky,” she said, holding up her left hand.
“Have you ever seen this flame?” Sarah asked. When the freak said nothing, she grinned. “See? It doesn’t exist. It’s just a lie! There is nothing that is very different from you and me.”
The freak frowned and touched her dog tags. They made a sweet tinkling noise.
Sarah bit her lip and shifted uncomfortably. “All right, you look different. But no person looks alike. And you’ve gone through horrible things, it’s true. But so have I. We’re not very different at all.”
“I am a freak.”
“But don’t you see? There is no such thing as a freak. Once upon a time, freaks were genetic mutations. But that time has come and gone. Freaks are simply delusions! They aren’t real.”
“Then I am not real.”
Sarah frowned. “Don’t be ridiculous. Of course you’re real. You’re alive, aren’t you?”
The freak shrugged and gulped down the water. And then her stomach churned and she felt like she would die. She set down the glass with shaky hands.
“Would you like some more?” Sarah said. When the freak didn’t say anything, Sarah stood up. “I’ll get you some more water,” she said, walking to the bathroom.
The freak leaned forward and threw up the water. Then she threw up again. For the first couple of times, it was just water. Then it was bile. Then blood.
“Elsa! Elsa!” Sarah cried. “Help!”
A stampede of footsteps came up and the freak soon found herself in Elsa’s arms. The freak shivered and drew back from Elsa at first, but Elsa grabbed her shoulders and forced her up. “What did you do to her?” Elsa said, wiping away the blood from the freak’s lips.
“I just gave her water!” Sarah said, her voice panicked. “She seemed really thirsty.”
“She probably was.”
The freak closed her eyes—the light hurt. “Sorry for the carpets.”
“No, please don’t say that,” Sarah begged. “Please don’t. I don’t mind. Just live.” She turned to Elsa desperately. “There’s something we can do for her, isn’t there?”
“We can kill her.”
“What!”
Elsa shrugged. “If you want to keep her, you can, of course. She’s yours, after all. But you’ve done a pretty good job of killing her so far. It would be a pity not to finish the job.” Elsa turned to look at something behind her. “You! Stop standing around and get me some warm milk and a towel. Now!”
The freak passed out.
When she opened her eyes again, Elsa leaned over her, frowning. She took a towel, dipped it into something, and put it in the freak’s mouth. “Suck on it. It’ll make you feel better.”
The freak sucked it dry.
Then Elsa turned to Sarah. “Soak this rag in warm milk and give it to her every hour for the next couple of days, both night and day. She is still very weak, and anything will kill her at this point.”
“It was just water!” Sarah cried.
“And she cannot have that much water until she gets better.” Elsa stood and walked to the door. “I will deliver milk to this room until she can stand. But I cannot take care of her. That will be your job. For now, consider her your first child and attend to her as such.”
Sarah scowled, but said nothing.
Elsa left.
After Elsa left, the freak raised her head. “You don’t have to save me, Miss Sarah,” she murmured. “I understand.”
“Oh, shut up, Beth,” Sarah mumbled. “You’ll be good as new soon, don’t worry. And besides, didn’t I already tell you? It’s Sadie. Not Sarah, not Miss. Just Sadie.”
Ubi caritas est vera, Deus ibi est.

"The mark of your ignorance is the depth of your belief in injustice and tragedy. What the caterpillar calls the end of the world, the Master calls the butterfly." ~ Richard Bach

Moth and Myth <- My comic! :D
  





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Points: 2557
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Fri Dec 16, 2011 5:29 pm
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TheClosetKidnapper says...



This is great. I like the whole freak/genetic mutation thing. I don't really see any errors or anything. Overall it's very well-written. Can't wait to read more!
I'm never what I like
I'm double sided
And I just can't hide
I kind of like it
When I make you cry
'Cause I'm twisted up, twisted up
Inside

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Fri Dec 16, 2011 8:25 pm
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Twit says...



Yo Schnoink!

So, Le Famous Freak. ^_^ I've read some of it before--I remember the bit about the rugs--though that was a different version and it started with the headmistress cutting and kerosening the freak's hair, if I remember rightly.

This wasn't boring at all. It wasn't an immediate grab-you-by-the-throat-and-not-let-you-go-until-you-read-more, but it was interesting and I read it all to the end. I think maybe my main criticism is the characters. Your dialogue is excellent and your prose flows very well. Maybe your descriptions could be a bit more vivid--the freak has a lovely, unique emphasis on colour that I really loved, so I would have expected the descriptions of colour to be more... colourful? If that makes sense. Pretty descriptions to fit with the prettiness that the freak looks for. That could be a feature of your writing style, but maybe consider that.

Anywho. Characters. I like the freak. I like the way she looks at things and at colours, although I did find her constant jumpiness a bit annoying. I know it's important and all; it's just that she seems to jump and squeak at everything. Sarah and Sarah's father, though, I found rather difficult to connect to, and I'm not sure I can pinpoint why, which is very unhelpful, sorry. >_< Maybe it's because I don't understand the reasoning behind their actions. I'm sure explanation will come later, but I'd like something now to begin to get to know them better. Like killing the freak. From the way everyone acts, it seems that killing a freak is no biggie at all. So why is Sarah freaked out about it when her father's just, "Hey, don't get blood on the rug, that would be such a bore"?

Ack, I don't know. It just seemed like they were very detached from the story, so I couldn't see them properly; yet in some places it seemed like you were writing from their POVs instead of the freak's. Like here:

He looked up hopefully...

His short answer discouraged her.


That's not the best example I could find... With everything else, it's filtered through the freak, so it's "she looked worried", "he seemed disappointed". In a few places you seem to skip that filter and go straight to the others, so it jars a bit.

Anyway, I hope all that made sense. Wall or PM me if you have any questions or if I wasn't clear enough on anything.

-twit
"TV makes sense. It has logic, structure, rules, and likeable leading men. In life, we have this."


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akdsjfh you know that feeling where you start writing a scene but then you get bored with the scene so you move on and start writing a different scene and then you get bored with that scene so you move on to an entirely different WIP and then you get bored with that so you move on-
— AceassinOfTheMoon