Drabble+: "Birthday Punches"
Hi, everyone!
Recently I've taken to writing drabbles, or brief little stories about one particular scenario in the lives of some of my Alphabetacy characters. I started one about Isla's glasses which didn't work out, and two about Arthur will become scenes in Chapter 44; basically, I haven't had much chance to share these stories. But I finally finished one!
You see, last Saturday was my brother's birthday party; he turned six on July 8. When they were cutting the cake, two of his guests, a quiet boy with heavy black glasses and a very excitable little girl, squeezed into the same chair. They weren't even related, but my immediate thought was, Hey, Inigo and Imago would totally do that! That became a whole story about a birthday party of theirs from childhood. I just wanted to share that image of two little kids squashed together, sharing a chair and having cake, so badly because it fit Inigo and Imago's childhood so perfectly. But this also kind of shows that Inigo's past visions will come back and are still relevant, and also gives me a chance to write their undamaged relationship again. Enjoy!
Words: 903
Characters: Inigo and Imago Granger
Prompt: Childhood birthday party
The room was dim and rather plain. The walls, however, were marked up with penciled-on drawings and words. A woman with eye-searing neon-bright hair was dotting an “i” on the latest phrase. It read, “Don’t let them see you’re afraid.”
She gave a satisfied sigh as her writing hand fell slack and she admired her work. Behind her, and beyond his field of vision, he heard a child’s laughter…
Inigo Granger awoke with a start to find a pencil gripped in his own hand. He groped around for his glasses on the nightstand and shoved them up the bridge of his nose hurriedly. He looked to the wall on his right to find he had once again written in his sleep.
These words were always done in a sloppy, uneven hand and often obscured by random lines, but Inigo had trained himself to pick out the words amidst the jumble of pencil marks.
“'The writing is on the wall. Tragedy lives in a bright scope of emotion. She will never know you.’” Inigo’s brows furrowed as he murmured the words aloud.
“What did you see?” Imago asked cheerfully, suddenly standing behind him. He jumped and the pencil flew out of his hand and rolled along the blankets.
“Where did you come from?” he asked, half-amused.
“It’s our birthday, Inny! How am I supposed to sleep?” Imago scoffed.
“Good point. I saw a woman…she was writing on her wall.” Inigo told her, crawling to the end of his bed to retrieve his notebook as he spoke.
“And what’s all that about?” Imago asked, pointing to the scribbles on the wall.
“Beats me.” Inigo said absent-mindedly, writing down the details of the vision. “Hand me that eraser, won’t you?”
“Happy birthday to you, too.” Imago said, but she handed it to him nonetheless. He immediately began to rub off the words scrawled on the patterned wallpaper.
“I haven’t forgotten our birthday. It’s not every day you and your twin sister turn nine.” Inigo said seriously.
“I’m so excited!” Imago cried. “Next year we’ll be in double digits, Inny!” She leapt up onto her twin’s bed and started jumping circles around him.
“I know!” Inigo agreed, brushing eraser shavings off the wall. “Everyone’s coming over for our party. Uncle Harry, Aunt Belladonna, Aunt Mimi, Uncle Simon, and Faith and Knox, too.”
“And chocolate cake!” Imago grinned. “Oh, I can’t wait!”
“Well, you’re going to have to wait until everyone wakes up. Considering it’s a little past five in the morning, we should probably get another few hours of sleep.” Inigo said wisely.
~~~~~~
“Cake coming through!” Helena called, carrying a cake smothered with chocolate frosting and alight with sparklers. “Get the lights for me!”
Someone flicked the light switch and the room dimmed, with the cake’s candles serving as the only source of light. The twins were squeezed together in the same chair. Imago was leaning as far over the table as she could, her rhinestone-encrusted birthday tiara perched precariously on her head. There was a collective “ooh” from the guests clustered around the table as Helena set the cake in front of Inigo and Imago. Inigo had to toss Imago’s plaits over her shoulders to keep them out of the candle flames. The guests began to sing.
“Happy birthday to you, happy birthday to you…”
Imago was completely immersed in all the attention, but Inigo let his mind wander, as it often did, to the future. He had seen so many glimpses of it, but it still seemed so unclear. He wondered who the people in his vision had been; the woman writing on her walls, the laughing child just barely out of sight, and he wondered why the woman was writing such a strange proverb on her walls…
“…happy birthday, Inigo and Imago, happy birthday to you!"
“Make a wish!” Imago murmured happily as the light of the candles danced in her eyes.
And as if on cue, the twins extinguished the ten sparklers, throwing the dim room into darkness.
Suddenly, Imago yelped as Ignotus gave her a little pinch on the arm.
“OW! What was that for, Ig?” Imago yelled accusingly as the lights flicked back on.
“It’s a pinch to grow an inch, silly. You want to grow, don’t you?” Ignotus teased.
Imago could not deny this. Instead, she contented herself by pinching Inigo as well. He didn’t raise a fuss for her sake; he knew if she thought things weren’t “even,” she would sulk for the rest of the day. And in any event, he wasn’t going to take a chance on not growing.
“Cut that out,” Imperius snapped chidingly.
“Hey, you and Isla did it to me!”
“We did not!”
The conversation digressed predictably from there, with Isla attempting to mediate and failing despite her best efforts. In the midst of it all, Knox grabbed a plate.
“Be lucky you missed the birthday punches,” he muttered darkly as the twins also took slices of cake. “Faith used to do the honors until Uncle Harry caught her at my last party.”
“Oh, that’s what it is? I thought she looked upset.” Isla said pensively.
For the moment, Inigo allowed thoughts of the future and of people seen in dreams to slip away as he, Knox, and Isla went into a lengthy discussion on how the practice of “birthday punches” originated, and concluded the man who invented them was a soulless sociopath.
~June
Recently I've taken to writing drabbles, or brief little stories about one particular scenario in the lives of some of my Alphabetacy characters. I started one about Isla's glasses which didn't work out, and two about Arthur will become scenes in Chapter 44; basically, I haven't had much chance to share these stories. But I finally finished one!
You see, last Saturday was my brother's birthday party; he turned six on July 8. When they were cutting the cake, two of his guests, a quiet boy with heavy black glasses and a very excitable little girl, squeezed into the same chair. They weren't even related, but my immediate thought was, Hey, Inigo and Imago would totally do that! That became a whole story about a birthday party of theirs from childhood. I just wanted to share that image of two little kids squashed together, sharing a chair and having cake, so badly because it fit Inigo and Imago's childhood so perfectly. But this also kind of shows that Inigo's past visions will come back and are still relevant, and also gives me a chance to write their undamaged relationship again. Enjoy!
Words: 903
Characters: Inigo and Imago Granger
Prompt: Childhood birthday party
The room was dim and rather plain. The walls, however, were marked up with penciled-on drawings and words. A woman with eye-searing neon-bright hair was dotting an “i” on the latest phrase. It read, “Don’t let them see you’re afraid.”
She gave a satisfied sigh as her writing hand fell slack and she admired her work. Behind her, and beyond his field of vision, he heard a child’s laughter…
Inigo Granger awoke with a start to find a pencil gripped in his own hand. He groped around for his glasses on the nightstand and shoved them up the bridge of his nose hurriedly. He looked to the wall on his right to find he had once again written in his sleep.
These words were always done in a sloppy, uneven hand and often obscured by random lines, but Inigo had trained himself to pick out the words amidst the jumble of pencil marks.
“'The writing is on the wall. Tragedy lives in a bright scope of emotion. She will never know you.’” Inigo’s brows furrowed as he murmured the words aloud.
“What did you see?” Imago asked cheerfully, suddenly standing behind him. He jumped and the pencil flew out of his hand and rolled along the blankets.
“Where did you come from?” he asked, half-amused.
“It’s our birthday, Inny! How am I supposed to sleep?” Imago scoffed.
“Good point. I saw a woman…she was writing on her wall.” Inigo told her, crawling to the end of his bed to retrieve his notebook as he spoke.
“And what’s all that about?” Imago asked, pointing to the scribbles on the wall.
“Beats me.” Inigo said absent-mindedly, writing down the details of the vision. “Hand me that eraser, won’t you?”
“Happy birthday to you, too.” Imago said, but she handed it to him nonetheless. He immediately began to rub off the words scrawled on the patterned wallpaper.
“I haven’t forgotten our birthday. It’s not every day you and your twin sister turn nine.” Inigo said seriously.
“I’m so excited!” Imago cried. “Next year we’ll be in double digits, Inny!” She leapt up onto her twin’s bed and started jumping circles around him.
“I know!” Inigo agreed, brushing eraser shavings off the wall. “Everyone’s coming over for our party. Uncle Harry, Aunt Belladonna, Aunt Mimi, Uncle Simon, and Faith and Knox, too.”
“And chocolate cake!” Imago grinned. “Oh, I can’t wait!”
“Well, you’re going to have to wait until everyone wakes up. Considering it’s a little past five in the morning, we should probably get another few hours of sleep.” Inigo said wisely.
~~~~~~
“Cake coming through!” Helena called, carrying a cake smothered with chocolate frosting and alight with sparklers. “Get the lights for me!”
Someone flicked the light switch and the room dimmed, with the cake’s candles serving as the only source of light. The twins were squeezed together in the same chair. Imago was leaning as far over the table as she could, her rhinestone-encrusted birthday tiara perched precariously on her head. There was a collective “ooh” from the guests clustered around the table as Helena set the cake in front of Inigo and Imago. Inigo had to toss Imago’s plaits over her shoulders to keep them out of the candle flames. The guests began to sing.
“Happy birthday to you, happy birthday to you…”
Imago was completely immersed in all the attention, but Inigo let his mind wander, as it often did, to the future. He had seen so many glimpses of it, but it still seemed so unclear. He wondered who the people in his vision had been; the woman writing on her walls, the laughing child just barely out of sight, and he wondered why the woman was writing such a strange proverb on her walls…
“…happy birthday, Inigo and Imago, happy birthday to you!"
“Make a wish!” Imago murmured happily as the light of the candles danced in her eyes.
And as if on cue, the twins extinguished the ten sparklers, throwing the dim room into darkness.
Suddenly, Imago yelped as Ignotus gave her a little pinch on the arm.
“OW! What was that for, Ig?” Imago yelled accusingly as the lights flicked back on.
“It’s a pinch to grow an inch, silly. You want to grow, don’t you?” Ignotus teased.
Imago could not deny this. Instead, she contented herself by pinching Inigo as well. He didn’t raise a fuss for her sake; he knew if she thought things weren’t “even,” she would sulk for the rest of the day. And in any event, he wasn’t going to take a chance on not growing.
“Cut that out,” Imperius snapped chidingly.
“Hey, you and Isla did it to me!”
“We did not!”
The conversation digressed predictably from there, with Isla attempting to mediate and failing despite her best efforts. In the midst of it all, Knox grabbed a plate.
“Be lucky you missed the birthday punches,” he muttered darkly as the twins also took slices of cake. “Faith used to do the honors until Uncle Harry caught her at my last party.”
“Oh, that’s what it is? I thought she looked upset.” Isla said pensively.
For the moment, Inigo allowed thoughts of the future and of people seen in dreams to slip away as he, Knox, and Isla went into a lengthy discussion on how the practice of “birthday punches” originated, and concluded the man who invented them was a soulless sociopath.
~June