A Discworldly Legacy - Chapter 13: Cherry Ripe
Chapter 13 is here! This chapter is called Cherry Ripe because...well, you'll see. I won't babble on here, let's get this show on the road!
Oh and for those that don't know, a Cherry Ripe is a Cadbury's candy bar which consists of cherry-flavoured coconut flakes covered in chocolate. I'm sure there are people in the world that like them but I can't stand them personally and nor have I met anyone who actually likes them. Despite this, all the advertising for Cherry Ripe is ~cute and ~sickeningly sweet, just like its coconutty, cherryful centre. Cherry Ripe is a try-hard. Anyhoodle...
It was a dark and stormy night. The rain formed a thick haze in the streets of Downtown Ankh-Morpork, rattling off roof tiles and sloshing down gutters. There wasn't a soul to be seen on the street; no one was crazy enough to be caught out on a night like this. No one, that is, except one.
"Bloody hell, what a dark and stormy night. I must be crazy to be caught out on a night like this," muttered a voice. It belonged to a huddled shape under a green umbrella, darting from awning to awning in an attempt to dodge the rain.
The swaddled figure scurried by pulsing nightclubs and 24-hour coffee shops still ablaze with light and warmth, islands of life in a dead, grey world. She paid them no heed, eyes seeing nothing but her feet on the pavement and ears hearing nothing but the hiss of rain.
Why does he have to keep such ridiculous work hours? She reflected bitterly, holding tight to her umbrella as a gust of wind swept the rain almost horizontal.
Finally, she reached her destination: a bar and nightclub with the same cheery ambience as a morgue. She stepped inside, shaking water droplets from her tormented umbrella and propping it up delicately by the door. She peeled off her soggy coat, which steamed slightly in the sudden heat of the bar, and looked around.
The Cavern wasn't a friendly place, but it did hint strongly of crushed velvet, red wine and Cuban cigars. It was the haunt of the hideously wealthy, the criminally-inclined, or both. People arranged to meet at The Cavern; there was no mingling. It was a no-questions-asked sort of place.
The arrival of a diminutive old woman didn't raise so much as a ripple of attention and she slipped into the upstairs office, shutting the door noiselessly behind her.
The room was dark and smelled of cigarette smoke and cloying perfume; the odour hung in the air like a cloud.
"Evening, ma'am. Nice night out." The remark came from the window, where her gradually-adjusting eyes picked out the silhouette of the ever-present fedora.
"Hmmph. You're lucky I came at all; my knee's been giving me gyp all flamin' day in this godsforsaken rain," she said grumpily, wringing out a corner of her sodden dress.
The silhouette turned to face her smoothly, and even in the dim light she could see his teeth glinting.
"Don't be so sullen, Ms McGraw - you know I've been anxiously awaiting your report." He gazed at her evenly. "Well? Any news for me?"
She gave an irate sigh. "No luck. The last batch was...was defective. I'm afraid we've had to scrap the whole lot and start fresh."
The man hissed through his teeth, adjusting his hat the way he did when frustrated. "Need I hardly remind you of the significant sum of money I have put into this project? Not to mention the money I've poured into your own pocket to feed those darling little grandchildren of yours. How old is the youngest, now? Elsie, is it?"
Ms McGraw spoke softly. "Elise. She's turning five soon; starting school next month."
"Terribly expensive thing, a good education. Terribly expensive, indeed. And if you want little Elsie to eat well and grow up nice and strong, you really need to start showing me results. Tell you what, because I'm such a nice guy - here's another thousand, to do with what you will."
He reached into a drawer and withdrew a wad of cash. "But," he said in a voice like shattering glass, "I want to see a return on my investment by the end of the month. Oh, and I trust the previous batch has been disposed of properly?"
Ms McGraw paled, fighting to keep the tremor out of her voice. "Yes, Mr DeRonde. All taken care of."
"Excellent," he said, slapping the money into her waiting palm. "See you in a month, then."
She smiled weakly and backed out the door, whereupon she collapsed against it.
This was not what she'd wanted out her life when she was a fresh-faced twenty-something walking out of the University of Genua with an MSc in hand, but desperate times called for desperate measures. She was old, retired, with two grandchildren shooting up like beansprouts. She needed to keep them fed, and for that she needed money.
She glanced down at the cash. Dirty money maybe, but it would feed them for weeks to come.
_______________
On the other side of Ankh-Morpork, Diamanda Discworld watched the silver threads left by the rain on her window. As usual, she couldn't sleep. When she did, she was troubled by bad dreams; dreams of faceless children chasing her, driving her away. Sometimes it was better not to sleep and let her mothers wonder why she looked so tired in the mornings.
She thought about her day at school. It was both better and worse than normal, if that was even possible.
It had started out normally enough...
"...and that, dear children, is why a mullet is the most useful and important tool to have at your disposal should you wish to pursue a career in teaching! A-ha, yes! A potential employer will look at your CV only after examining your delicately coiffured hairstyle!
"But I digress. I am not here to discuss the finer points of mulletology, dear me no..."
Seven pairs of hands fidgeted with jacket lapels and skirt pleats in a state of near-suicidal boredom. Mr Mullburger, although a knowledgable and competent teacher, had a goldfish memory when it came to recalling that he'd already told them about the link between his hair and his profession; frequently.
The teacher's eyes sparkled as he regarded his class. "A-ha. Well now boys and girls, our final term is upon us, ha yes! It strikes me that we are losing some of you to high school shortly-" Diamanda closed her eyes, savouring the thought. That's you, Di. Just a few more weeks to go.
"-and I thought a special class project was in order! Ha. Yes indeed," Mr Mullburger warbled. He made a sharp quarter-turn to the right and strode over to a mystery object, shrouded under a blanket. He grabbed a handful of the blanket and, with a grin, announced "Boys and girls, I'd like you to meet Gurt!"
There was an ultrasonic squeal from the female students in the room as the blanket was pulled aside - there may have even been a few from the boys.
Nose trembling, heart racing, the womrat examined his audience nervously through the bars of his cage.
"Isn't he simply splendunkerous?" Mr Mullburger exclaimed, "I knew you'd like him! Now then, yes. For the rest of the term, you are all assigned to womrat duty! A-ha. He needs to be kept clean, fed and loved. I'm sure you can handle all that!"
The blonde girl in front of Dibbler raised a hand.
"A-hm. Yes, Amelie?" Mr Mullburger said.
"Mr Mullburger, as class president I feel it is only right that I should take the responsibily of providing Gurt with his first meal," Amelie said, smiling sweetly.
"A-ha! Good point, good point indeed, Amelie. But it is not for me to decide to whom the honour shall go to," said Mr Mullburger, waggling his eyebrows as if the class didn't know what was coming. There was a collective groan.
Mr Mullburger loved the erratic nature of random selection and chance. Diamanda had never known him to make a serious decision on anything in all the time she'd been in his class.
He called it his Happy Random Box, and used it at every opportunity. Each student had their name written on a Happy Random Diamond, of which the Box would pick one and spurt it proudly through a hole at the top.
At the push of a button, the diamonds started to dance like autumn leaves caught in a breeze. Finally, one became lodged and Mr Mullburger reached for it eagerly.
He read the name before holding it up gleefully.
"Diamanda! You're up!"
Diamanda froze as six heads swivelled to look at her. Amelie looked particularly venomous, but Diamanda ignored this - it was something she was getting good at.
"Me, really? I don't mind if Amelie wants to-"
"The Happy Random Box has spoken!" Mr Mullburger said jovially.
Reluctantly, Diamanda got up and walked between the desks.
Gurt let out a warning squeek! as Diamanda approached his cage. His stubby fur was all on end, making him look like he'd been rubbed with a balloon. Tentatively, Diamanda pulled out the feeding tray and filled it. Gurt simply glared at her with his big, black eyes.
"Wondiferous job, Diamanda! Yes, I think he likes you! Now, why not take him out for a cuddle?" Mr Mullburger said.
Diamanda regarded the womrat carefully. If looks could kill... "No, I don't think that's a very good idea-"
"Nonsense! Nonsense, I say! Get him out this instant!"
Diamanda opened the cage, unaware she was holding her breath.
That was when it all went wrong.
The moment Diamanda touched him, Gurt started thrashing about like a cat in a sack. He shrieked and screamed; ungodly noises that shouldn't come from an adorable critter like a womrat. Still, Diamanda clung on to him, trying to hold him close to her body to stop him squirming.
"Gurt- there, there- it's okay! Stop- Gurt, stop it! Stop- OW!" All at once, four sharp teeth sank into her finger. She dropped him in shock, furious tears pooling in her eyes.
Gurt hit the ground running and disappeared, screaming womrat screams, under the counter. Immediately, half the class was on its feet.
"What did you do to him? What's wrong with you? What's wrong with you?!" Amelie cried.
"I didn't do anything! It's not my fault!" Diamanda shrieked back at her. "I hate this! I hate you!"
Mr Mullburger, unfortunately, was no good in excitable situations. "Oh, giddy gravy! Oh, gravy goodness! Not to panic, children! Everything is under a spatula! Oh, heavens to Murgaburt, what am I even bamabbling?"
Dibbler was far more useful in a tight spot. In a flash she was on her knees, peering under the counter.
"I can see him! He's hiding right up the back. If I can-"
"Don't hurt him! Oh, don't hurt him! The poor little thing!" Amelie wailed, sobbing theatrically.
Just as the boys made it over to join Dibbler in coaxing out the womrat, Diamanda fled the room, her insides burning.
Diamanda sat alone on the jungle gym and let her tears go unchecked.
Even animals hate me. Brilliant. She thought bitterly. And that git Amelie, making such a fuss and hoping to be consoled by one of the boys...
"Mandy?"
A crown of brunette hair and two brown eyes peeked over the edge of the jungle gym.
"Go away, Ellie."
Druellae didn't budge. "Gurt's fine, Dibbler lured him out with her peanut butter sandwich. Winston is looking after Amelie-" Diamanda missed the acidic quality in her sister's voice, "-and I wanted to make sure you were okay, too. Can you scooch over?"
Silently, Diamanda shifted to the other side. The truth was, she really needed to talk to someone who understood.
"I can only guess at how you must be feeling right now."
"Like a Cherry Ripe," Diamanda sighed.
Druellae crinkled her brow. "Sorry, what? I don't get it."
"You know, a Cherry Ripe. I try to be all friendly and sweet, but still nobody likes me. No matter what I do, Ellie, no matter how I try, I- I just..." she hurriedly wiped away a tear sliding down her cheek.
"I like you. And mum and other-mum like you, and grandpa and grandma like you, and Dibs-"
"Dibbler doesn't like me, last week during lunch she asked if I could go somewhere else because I was making her 'customers' uneasy."
"That doesn't mean anything, that's just Dibbler being Dibbler. Besides, if mum knew she was selling all the healthy stuff in her lunchbox for cash..." Druellae trailed off.
"It was more the way she said it, to be honest, that I make people 'uneasy'. What's that supposed to mean?"
Druellae chewed her lip before replying. "I've never known how to say this before, Mandy, and please don't get angry at me for saying so. It's- it's almost like you carry a shroud around with you. Whenever I'm around you, I notice my feelings change - I doubt myself, I feel uncertain and uneasy. I noticed it a lot more when we were younger, but whether that's something changing in you or just me getting used to it, I'm not sure."
"And you think that's why the kids at school hate me?"
"They don't hate you, Mandy, no one hates you. Partly because when you're not around, no one can remember why they would. You scare them, I guess. There's something about you that makes people feel unsure about themselves."
"Why, Ellie? Why do I have to stick out like a crayon in a pencilcase? It's not fair! All I ever wanted was to have friends. Not even lots of friends; I'd be content with just one."
Druellae fiddled shyly with a strand of hair. "You have one, Mandy: me."
Diamanda blinked, taken aback by how obvious it was and how long it had taken her to realise. "Ellie, I- of course. You're the best friend I could ever ask for."
"Good! Then can we get off this thing? My butt's getting sore."
As soon as they were on the grass, Diamanda pulled her sister into a hug and refused to let go of her for a long time.
"Thanks, Ellie. I didn't realise how much I needed someone to talk to."
Druellae smiled, and when she did the Disc seemed to smile with her. "What are friends for? Don't you forget, I'll always be here when you need me."
(Thank you for flying Air Flashback. We now return you to your feature presentation.)
Diamanda couldn't help but smile to think of Druellae's words, spoken in such earnest. She was ready to stop battling alone. Maybe together they could figure out what was wrong with her. Maybe things would be on track from this moment on. Maybe-
KERASH.
A fork of lightning split the night sky in two; but it wasn't lightning.
Diamanda turned to watch in awe as the light faded. For some reason, it was lingering in her yard. She covered her eyes and squinted out the window, trying to ignore the burning sensation in her retinas.
The remaining light receded and she caught sigh of an undeniably solid, quadrupedic shape. In a sudden scramble of pyjama-clad legs, Diamanda threw herself from the couch and down the stairs
The rain had quietened to a sulky drizzle, but was still icy on the skin. Diamanda's mind was not on the state of precipitation, however, but the brilliant white stallion pacing casually across the lawn towards her. He didn't seem to move quite right; an animal with that much muscle shouldn't be quite so weightless. She was also sure most horses left hoofprints. Once or twice, Diamanda was sure his hooves dipped below the grass.
Horse and girl stopped with mere inches between them, watching each other carefully. Diamanda didn't feel - as she'd half been expecting - afraid of the great horse; she felt elated, calm, safe. Strangest of all, she felt familiarity.
"Why do I know you?" she whispered, lifting a hand to stroke him.
Just then, before she could touch him, the horse was consumed by a brilliant white light. Diamanda recoiled, covering her eyes. When she opened them again, the horse was gone.
"Was I dreaming?" Diamanda wondered aloud. She heard a sizzling noise at her feet and looked down: two red-hot horseshoe shapes were branded into the grass, hissing in the rain. "Perhaps not."
Feeling out-of-sorts, she went back inside to go to bed.
That was more than enough excitement for one night, but she had a feeling she'd be seeing that horse again.
_______________
All was quiet in the Legacy House. Well, it was never all quiet, not really, but it was minus one sound that should have been there on a Thursday afternoon: the sound of a young Discworld practicing piano. Cheery had half an idea where she might find the lady in question and wandered out to the family orchard.
"Just what are you doing out here, Miss Ellie?"
Druellae froze. "If we don't pick the oranges now, they'll go bad and fall off the trees."
"And wouldn't that be a terrible waste. But I think your efforts would be better spent upstairs in the music room, madam."
Druellae pulled an orange off the tree with more savagery than was necessary, causing several more to fall to the ground like giant, cheerful hailstones.
"I don't want to practice piano. I hate it. I'm bad at it."
"I don't buy that one bit. I've seen you play; you're good. And the reports I get from Miss Pittaway are all buy glowing."
"Yeah well, I still hate it," Druellae mumbled.
"Well, if you hate it so much I could talk to the co-ordinator about dropping music and picking up another subject next semester," Cheery suggested.
"No!" Druellae shouted, making her mother jump. "I mean... no, thanks mum. It's alright, music isn't that bad, I'll stick with it. I really don't mind it. Not that much. Not really."
Cheery blinked. "If you're sure. I just don't see why you'd put up with something like that if you don't enjoy it."
Cheery saw the secret flit behind Druellae's eyes, but chose not to pursue it.
"Come along, then. Let's go do a few scales."
A few arpeggios and scales later and Cheery couldn't help but let the pride swell inside her. When mother and daughter were arpeggio'd out, Cheery clapped her hands appreciatively.
"Ellie, those were perfect! And you tried to tell me you were no good!"
She laughed, and Druellae laughed with her. "Are you learning any songs in class at the moment?" Cheery asked.
"Kind of," Druellae said, and started to play. It was a simple piece, gentle and poignant, which almost seemed to bypass the ear and speak directly to the heart. After only a few bars, Druellae stopped and said, "That's as far as we've got, though."
"It's beautiful. Play the rest for me when you learn it, okay?" Cheery said with a smile. Then, squeezing Druellae's shoulder as she passed, she left the room.
She ran into Brutha outside the door. "Dad, were you listening in on that?"
"Couldn't help myself, that girl's coming along," Brutha confessed. "Cheery, I'd like you to come on a walk with me. I think the time has finally come."
"This isn't that pilgrimage you were always threatening me with as a kid, is it?" Cheery asked suspiciously.
"Ha! No. But it's something you should be aware of, nonetheless."
"If this wasn't happening to me, I wouldn't believe this was possible." Cheery said, agawk.
"Why? Not exactly strange by our family's standards, this sort of thing. And besides, we Discworlds have always been more highly attuned to death than your average family."
"Dad, you're wrecking the moment."
"Sorry."
If you're both quite done?
"We're done, great-grandfather. Although I have to admit my flabber has been ghasted."
Your flabber has been ghasted? You? The one who went after Death to bring back your brother? I find that hard to believe.
"Uh. You know about that, huh?" Cheery said, fidgeting.
Hey, I'm dead. I get around. So enough about me, what about you? Family good?
"As good as can be expected. The girls are getting top grade and Debbie's very nearly topped Science. Why am I telling you, anyway, Mr Omnipresent?" she asked.
Well, I never! Just because I can watch your every move doesn't mean I do! That would be creepy! And besides, I have April here to keep me busy.
"Fair point."
How about the rest of the family? Angua, Binky, Carrot and that lot?
"To be honest, we haven't seen a lot of them. Don't rub it in; I'm kind of guilty about that."
Not that I'm telling you how to live your life or anything, but you should probably visit Belafon if you get the chance.
Brutha sat up slightly. "Bel! I haven't even thought about him in months. I hope he's doing okay."
He is - just. Bill's looking after him. But I think he would benefit from a visit from you both... what's that? Oh, I'm being challenged to a game of two-a-side ping-pong with April, Albert and Gloria. Talk to you later!
"You know, the afterlife never struck me as the sort of place you play two-a-side ping-pong," Cheery said as they left the family cemetery.
"Cheery, you know that'll be me and Adie soon, don't you? Playing two-a-side ping-pong with my parents and grandparents?"
"Of course, dad," Cheery said, but the words choked her a little as they came out. In truth, she hadn't given it a thought but she supposed he must be right. Her own grandparents died long before she was even born, so Brutha and Adrienne were having a pretty good run. Nothing lasts forever, but that doesn't make the truth any easier to bear.
_______________
"Hey, you! Ginga four-eyes!"
Iris looked around in bewilderment for the source of the impertinent voice, and eventually found the small being in the private school uniform. "Me?"
"Yes, you!"
"'Ginga four-eyes', huh? You're one to talk if I may say so, Miss Dibbler! Besides, you shouldn't talk to me like that. Don't you know who I am?" Iris puffed herself up with self-importance.
"Sure I do, that's why I want to talk to you."
Iris deflated like a pricked pufferfish. "Oh. Alright, then. Shoot."
"You're the creator around this joint, ain'cha? The Almighty, the Overseer, the SimSelf?"
"Uhh. In theory-?"
"-Then do you mind explaining why I, Dibbler, am here, and Open For Business is not? I should sue you for lost profit, I should."
"Wow, back up the sushi truck, kid! You might want to check on the present I left over there for you before you start talking court proceedings."
"Is that..."
"It is! Enjoy OFB, kid. I got it just for you."
"Alright! High-five! Hang on a minute, high-fives?"
"Yep, I have Apartment Life too. If you go inside you'll see the ceiling-"
"Pssh. You think I have time for that now? I got lemonade to sell, lady! Gotta make up for lost time!"
"You're eleven."
"Lost time, I say!"
"So anyway, you seem a discerning Simself-Creator type thing, and I bet you'd spot a top-quality thirst-quenching beverage when you saw one. I assure you my lemonade falls in that category," Dibbler said, charm melting from every pore.
"Get real. I just saw you mixing this stuff from Quik-Lemon sachets and besides, the stall set me back a fair amount in the first place. No way."
"Finest Quik-Lemon sachets you'll ever lay your hands on! Come on, just thirteen dollars a glass! This stuff is worth fifteen at least; that's cutting my own throat!"
"Thirteen bucks?! Get real!"
(AN: I have been waiting four generations for Dibbler to say that. <3)
"You just have to be tough with kids these days, Adrienne. You can't let them call the shots or they'll never respect you."
Adrienne, resplendent in her nana-nightie, looked up from the wolf she was playing with (you know how it is when you start going senile). "Is that why you bought some lemonade, Iris dear?"
Iris looked enraged. "Wh- did not! I- wait, what? What the hell? Where did this come from? I've been duped!"
At her stall, Dibbler happily deposited sixteen dollars into her money bank.
Adrienne tutted and shook her head. "Silly, weak-willed Simself."
"I'll take two! No, three!"
"Damn. Kid's got a gift."
_______________
Finally, the day Diamanda had been not-so-patiently waiting for arrived. With her family cheering her on (even thought Debbie was ~confused and wandering around the wrong way) she made her wish:
I wish people would like me.
She blew out her candles in a single breath and waited for the birthday sparkles. She was nervous, having heard horror stories about transitional clothes. She hoped her teenage years would be a fresh chapter in her life, and the last thing she needed was to start that with an embarrassing outfit and, therefore, an embarrassing photo to follow her around.
She closed her eyes and...
...Grew into a perfectly respectable outfit. She took this to be a good omen but still carried out the traditional after-birthday-wardrobe-rush.
A change of clothes, a dab of makeup and a shiny new aspiration made all the difference to Diamanda's self-confidence. Of course, the real challenge would be the new high-school on Monday, but for the first time in her life she felt ready to take it on.
She decided she'd spent too much of her childhood worrying and being miserable, and resolved to focus on the simple things in life: bubble baths, dancing and, with any luck, dating. Fifty, if possible, and they would all be absolute knock-outs.
She still had questions, mainly about herself, and the 'shroud' Druellae mentioned, and also about the strange horse that appeared and disappeared so suddenly that night on her lawn. Questions, yes, but she would face them with a clear head and an unburdened heart.
(Please note, it was actually nighttime when I took this, but I used the 'Day/Night' toggle in Buy Mod because the light was bad. Just sayin', to avoid confustication with the next bit. Proceed.)
"Cheery, come quick - it's your father."
"Bzug?"
The patch of fuzz hovering in Cheery's vision turned into a worried face - Adrienne's.
"Wzrongwidim?" she mumbled, reluctantly allowing her dream to slip away. It had been a good dream. There were rainbows and unicorns.
"Just come, please. It's easier."
Horrible thoughs bombarded Cheery's mind from all directions as she followed her mother down the hall - of her father lying crumpled and lifeless on the floor - and her heart hammered faster with each step. She was therefore relieved to see Brutha, not dead, but quietly painting a picture.
"Yes? As if any of us haven't woken up in the middle of the night for a quick painting session, mum."
"But Cheery," Adrienne said, wringing her hands agitatedly.
"He's still asleep."
"Ah. Do you- do you think this is one of his visions?"
"I think it must be. But it's been years, for both of us. I thought they were gone for good and... and look at him! It's never been like this, never like this! Oh, Brutha..."
"We'd better stay here and watch him, I suppose. Make sure he's safe."
Adrienne nodded anxiously. "I didn't see what he saw. I wish I did. Oh, Bru..."
For hours, they watched Brutha paint. There was darkness, there was fire; and right in the middle, a broken figure on their knees. Whatever he'd seen, it wasn't pleasant. Cheery thought she recognised the person in the flames, but admitting that to herself - let alone saying it out loud - cut her to the heart.
Finally, Brutha spoke. "Torn three ways... Lost to the storm... A terrible decision. One no one should have to make."
Cheery voice trembled. "Who is it dad?"
Brutha opened his eyes and said one word, confirming Cheery's fears. "Diamanda."
________________
Well, the plot thickens like custard. Dastardly deeds and ~vishuns and stuff. Ooer. Hope you enjoyed this instalment, comments over on BoolProp would be nice!
Till next time, happy Simming! xx
Oh and for those that don't know, a Cherry Ripe is a Cadbury's candy bar which consists of cherry-flavoured coconut flakes covered in chocolate. I'm sure there are people in the world that like them but I can't stand them personally and nor have I met anyone who actually likes them. Despite this, all the advertising for Cherry Ripe is ~cute and ~sickeningly sweet, just like its coconutty, cherryful centre. Cherry Ripe is a try-hard. Anyhoodle...
It was a dark and stormy night. The rain formed a thick haze in the streets of Downtown Ankh-Morpork, rattling off roof tiles and sloshing down gutters. There wasn't a soul to be seen on the street; no one was crazy enough to be caught out on a night like this. No one, that is, except one.
"Bloody hell, what a dark and stormy night. I must be crazy to be caught out on a night like this," muttered a voice. It belonged to a huddled shape under a green umbrella, darting from awning to awning in an attempt to dodge the rain.
The swaddled figure scurried by pulsing nightclubs and 24-hour coffee shops still ablaze with light and warmth, islands of life in a dead, grey world. She paid them no heed, eyes seeing nothing but her feet on the pavement and ears hearing nothing but the hiss of rain.
Why does he have to keep such ridiculous work hours? She reflected bitterly, holding tight to her umbrella as a gust of wind swept the rain almost horizontal.
Finally, she reached her destination: a bar and nightclub with the same cheery ambience as a morgue. She stepped inside, shaking water droplets from her tormented umbrella and propping it up delicately by the door. She peeled off her soggy coat, which steamed slightly in the sudden heat of the bar, and looked around.
The Cavern wasn't a friendly place, but it did hint strongly of crushed velvet, red wine and Cuban cigars. It was the haunt of the hideously wealthy, the criminally-inclined, or both. People arranged to meet at The Cavern; there was no mingling. It was a no-questions-asked sort of place.
The arrival of a diminutive old woman didn't raise so much as a ripple of attention and she slipped into the upstairs office, shutting the door noiselessly behind her.
The room was dark and smelled of cigarette smoke and cloying perfume; the odour hung in the air like a cloud.
"Evening, ma'am. Nice night out." The remark came from the window, where her gradually-adjusting eyes picked out the silhouette of the ever-present fedora.
"Hmmph. You're lucky I came at all; my knee's been giving me gyp all flamin' day in this godsforsaken rain," she said grumpily, wringing out a corner of her sodden dress.
The silhouette turned to face her smoothly, and even in the dim light she could see his teeth glinting.
"Don't be so sullen, Ms McGraw - you know I've been anxiously awaiting your report." He gazed at her evenly. "Well? Any news for me?"
She gave an irate sigh. "No luck. The last batch was...was defective. I'm afraid we've had to scrap the whole lot and start fresh."
The man hissed through his teeth, adjusting his hat the way he did when frustrated. "Need I hardly remind you of the significant sum of money I have put into this project? Not to mention the money I've poured into your own pocket to feed those darling little grandchildren of yours. How old is the youngest, now? Elsie, is it?"
Ms McGraw spoke softly. "Elise. She's turning five soon; starting school next month."
"Terribly expensive thing, a good education. Terribly expensive, indeed. And if you want little Elsie to eat well and grow up nice and strong, you really need to start showing me results. Tell you what, because I'm such a nice guy - here's another thousand, to do with what you will."
He reached into a drawer and withdrew a wad of cash. "But," he said in a voice like shattering glass, "I want to see a return on my investment by the end of the month. Oh, and I trust the previous batch has been disposed of properly?"
Ms McGraw paled, fighting to keep the tremor out of her voice. "Yes, Mr DeRonde. All taken care of."
"Excellent," he said, slapping the money into her waiting palm. "See you in a month, then."
She smiled weakly and backed out the door, whereupon she collapsed against it.
This was not what she'd wanted out her life when she was a fresh-faced twenty-something walking out of the University of Genua with an MSc in hand, but desperate times called for desperate measures. She was old, retired, with two grandchildren shooting up like beansprouts. She needed to keep them fed, and for that she needed money.
She glanced down at the cash. Dirty money maybe, but it would feed them for weeks to come.
_______________
On the other side of Ankh-Morpork, Diamanda Discworld watched the silver threads left by the rain on her window. As usual, she couldn't sleep. When she did, she was troubled by bad dreams; dreams of faceless children chasing her, driving her away. Sometimes it was better not to sleep and let her mothers wonder why she looked so tired in the mornings.
She thought about her day at school. It was both better and worse than normal, if that was even possible.
It had started out normally enough...
"...and that, dear children, is why a mullet is the most useful and important tool to have at your disposal should you wish to pursue a career in teaching! A-ha, yes! A potential employer will look at your CV only after examining your delicately coiffured hairstyle!
"But I digress. I am not here to discuss the finer points of mulletology, dear me no..."
Seven pairs of hands fidgeted with jacket lapels and skirt pleats in a state of near-suicidal boredom. Mr Mullburger, although a knowledgable and competent teacher, had a goldfish memory when it came to recalling that he'd already told them about the link between his hair and his profession; frequently.
The teacher's eyes sparkled as he regarded his class. "A-ha. Well now boys and girls, our final term is upon us, ha yes! It strikes me that we are losing some of you to high school shortly-" Diamanda closed her eyes, savouring the thought. That's you, Di. Just a few more weeks to go.
"-and I thought a special class project was in order! Ha. Yes indeed," Mr Mullburger warbled. He made a sharp quarter-turn to the right and strode over to a mystery object, shrouded under a blanket. He grabbed a handful of the blanket and, with a grin, announced "Boys and girls, I'd like you to meet Gurt!"
There was an ultrasonic squeal from the female students in the room as the blanket was pulled aside - there may have even been a few from the boys.
Nose trembling, heart racing, the womrat examined his audience nervously through the bars of his cage.
"Isn't he simply splendunkerous?" Mr Mullburger exclaimed, "I knew you'd like him! Now then, yes. For the rest of the term, you are all assigned to womrat duty! A-ha. He needs to be kept clean, fed and loved. I'm sure you can handle all that!"
The blonde girl in front of Dibbler raised a hand.
"A-hm. Yes, Amelie?" Mr Mullburger said.
"Mr Mullburger, as class president I feel it is only right that I should take the responsibily of providing Gurt with his first meal," Amelie said, smiling sweetly.
"A-ha! Good point, good point indeed, Amelie. But it is not for me to decide to whom the honour shall go to," said Mr Mullburger, waggling his eyebrows as if the class didn't know what was coming. There was a collective groan.
Mr Mullburger loved the erratic nature of random selection and chance. Diamanda had never known him to make a serious decision on anything in all the time she'd been in his class.
He called it his Happy Random Box, and used it at every opportunity. Each student had their name written on a Happy Random Diamond, of which the Box would pick one and spurt it proudly through a hole at the top.
At the push of a button, the diamonds started to dance like autumn leaves caught in a breeze. Finally, one became lodged and Mr Mullburger reached for it eagerly.
He read the name before holding it up gleefully.
"Diamanda! You're up!"
Diamanda froze as six heads swivelled to look at her. Amelie looked particularly venomous, but Diamanda ignored this - it was something she was getting good at.
"Me, really? I don't mind if Amelie wants to-"
"The Happy Random Box has spoken!" Mr Mullburger said jovially.
Reluctantly, Diamanda got up and walked between the desks.
Gurt let out a warning squeek! as Diamanda approached his cage. His stubby fur was all on end, making him look like he'd been rubbed with a balloon. Tentatively, Diamanda pulled out the feeding tray and filled it. Gurt simply glared at her with his big, black eyes.
"Wondiferous job, Diamanda! Yes, I think he likes you! Now, why not take him out for a cuddle?" Mr Mullburger said.
Diamanda regarded the womrat carefully. If looks could kill... "No, I don't think that's a very good idea-"
"Nonsense! Nonsense, I say! Get him out this instant!"
Diamanda opened the cage, unaware she was holding her breath.
That was when it all went wrong.
The moment Diamanda touched him, Gurt started thrashing about like a cat in a sack. He shrieked and screamed; ungodly noises that shouldn't come from an adorable critter like a womrat. Still, Diamanda clung on to him, trying to hold him close to her body to stop him squirming.
"Gurt- there, there- it's okay! Stop- Gurt, stop it! Stop- OW!" All at once, four sharp teeth sank into her finger. She dropped him in shock, furious tears pooling in her eyes.
Gurt hit the ground running and disappeared, screaming womrat screams, under the counter. Immediately, half the class was on its feet.
"What did you do to him? What's wrong with you? What's wrong with you?!" Amelie cried.
"I didn't do anything! It's not my fault!" Diamanda shrieked back at her. "I hate this! I hate you!"
Mr Mullburger, unfortunately, was no good in excitable situations. "Oh, giddy gravy! Oh, gravy goodness! Not to panic, children! Everything is under a spatula! Oh, heavens to Murgaburt, what am I even bamabbling?"
Dibbler was far more useful in a tight spot. In a flash she was on her knees, peering under the counter.
"I can see him! He's hiding right up the back. If I can-"
"Don't hurt him! Oh, don't hurt him! The poor little thing!" Amelie wailed, sobbing theatrically.
Just as the boys made it over to join Dibbler in coaxing out the womrat, Diamanda fled the room, her insides burning.
Diamanda sat alone on the jungle gym and let her tears go unchecked.
Even animals hate me. Brilliant. She thought bitterly. And that git Amelie, making such a fuss and hoping to be consoled by one of the boys...
"Mandy?"
A crown of brunette hair and two brown eyes peeked over the edge of the jungle gym.
"Go away, Ellie."
Druellae didn't budge. "Gurt's fine, Dibbler lured him out with her peanut butter sandwich. Winston is looking after Amelie-" Diamanda missed the acidic quality in her sister's voice, "-and I wanted to make sure you were okay, too. Can you scooch over?"
Silently, Diamanda shifted to the other side. The truth was, she really needed to talk to someone who understood.
"I can only guess at how you must be feeling right now."
"Like a Cherry Ripe," Diamanda sighed.
Druellae crinkled her brow. "Sorry, what? I don't get it."
"You know, a Cherry Ripe. I try to be all friendly and sweet, but still nobody likes me. No matter what I do, Ellie, no matter how I try, I- I just..." she hurriedly wiped away a tear sliding down her cheek.
"I like you. And mum and other-mum like you, and grandpa and grandma like you, and Dibs-"
"Dibbler doesn't like me, last week during lunch she asked if I could go somewhere else because I was making her 'customers' uneasy."
"That doesn't mean anything, that's just Dibbler being Dibbler. Besides, if mum knew she was selling all the healthy stuff in her lunchbox for cash..." Druellae trailed off.
"It was more the way she said it, to be honest, that I make people 'uneasy'. What's that supposed to mean?"
Druellae chewed her lip before replying. "I've never known how to say this before, Mandy, and please don't get angry at me for saying so. It's- it's almost like you carry a shroud around with you. Whenever I'm around you, I notice my feelings change - I doubt myself, I feel uncertain and uneasy. I noticed it a lot more when we were younger, but whether that's something changing in you or just me getting used to it, I'm not sure."
"And you think that's why the kids at school hate me?"
"They don't hate you, Mandy, no one hates you. Partly because when you're not around, no one can remember why they would. You scare them, I guess. There's something about you that makes people feel unsure about themselves."
"Why, Ellie? Why do I have to stick out like a crayon in a pencilcase? It's not fair! All I ever wanted was to have friends. Not even lots of friends; I'd be content with just one."
Druellae fiddled shyly with a strand of hair. "You have one, Mandy: me."
Diamanda blinked, taken aback by how obvious it was and how long it had taken her to realise. "Ellie, I- of course. You're the best friend I could ever ask for."
"Good! Then can we get off this thing? My butt's getting sore."
As soon as they were on the grass, Diamanda pulled her sister into a hug and refused to let go of her for a long time.
"Thanks, Ellie. I didn't realise how much I needed someone to talk to."
Druellae smiled, and when she did the Disc seemed to smile with her. "What are friends for? Don't you forget, I'll always be here when you need me."
(Thank you for flying Air Flashback. We now return you to your feature presentation.)
Diamanda couldn't help but smile to think of Druellae's words, spoken in such earnest. She was ready to stop battling alone. Maybe together they could figure out what was wrong with her. Maybe things would be on track from this moment on. Maybe-
KERASH.
A fork of lightning split the night sky in two; but it wasn't lightning.
Diamanda turned to watch in awe as the light faded. For some reason, it was lingering in her yard. She covered her eyes and squinted out the window, trying to ignore the burning sensation in her retinas.
The remaining light receded and she caught sigh of an undeniably solid, quadrupedic shape. In a sudden scramble of pyjama-clad legs, Diamanda threw herself from the couch and down the stairs
The rain had quietened to a sulky drizzle, but was still icy on the skin. Diamanda's mind was not on the state of precipitation, however, but the brilliant white stallion pacing casually across the lawn towards her. He didn't seem to move quite right; an animal with that much muscle shouldn't be quite so weightless. She was also sure most horses left hoofprints. Once or twice, Diamanda was sure his hooves dipped below the grass.
Horse and girl stopped with mere inches between them, watching each other carefully. Diamanda didn't feel - as she'd half been expecting - afraid of the great horse; she felt elated, calm, safe. Strangest of all, she felt familiarity.
"Why do I know you?" she whispered, lifting a hand to stroke him.
Just then, before she could touch him, the horse was consumed by a brilliant white light. Diamanda recoiled, covering her eyes. When she opened them again, the horse was gone.
"Was I dreaming?" Diamanda wondered aloud. She heard a sizzling noise at her feet and looked down: two red-hot horseshoe shapes were branded into the grass, hissing in the rain. "Perhaps not."
Feeling out-of-sorts, she went back inside to go to bed.
That was more than enough excitement for one night, but she had a feeling she'd be seeing that horse again.
_______________
All was quiet in the Legacy House. Well, it was never all quiet, not really, but it was minus one sound that should have been there on a Thursday afternoon: the sound of a young Discworld practicing piano. Cheery had half an idea where she might find the lady in question and wandered out to the family orchard.
"Just what are you doing out here, Miss Ellie?"
Druellae froze. "If we don't pick the oranges now, they'll go bad and fall off the trees."
"And wouldn't that be a terrible waste. But I think your efforts would be better spent upstairs in the music room, madam."
Druellae pulled an orange off the tree with more savagery than was necessary, causing several more to fall to the ground like giant, cheerful hailstones.
"I don't want to practice piano. I hate it. I'm bad at it."
"I don't buy that one bit. I've seen you play; you're good. And the reports I get from Miss Pittaway are all buy glowing."
"Yeah well, I still hate it," Druellae mumbled.
"Well, if you hate it so much I could talk to the co-ordinator about dropping music and picking up another subject next semester," Cheery suggested.
"No!" Druellae shouted, making her mother jump. "I mean... no, thanks mum. It's alright, music isn't that bad, I'll stick with it. I really don't mind it. Not that much. Not really."
Cheery blinked. "If you're sure. I just don't see why you'd put up with something like that if you don't enjoy it."
Cheery saw the secret flit behind Druellae's eyes, but chose not to pursue it.
"Come along, then. Let's go do a few scales."
A few arpeggios and scales later and Cheery couldn't help but let the pride swell inside her. When mother and daughter were arpeggio'd out, Cheery clapped her hands appreciatively.
"Ellie, those were perfect! And you tried to tell me you were no good!"
She laughed, and Druellae laughed with her. "Are you learning any songs in class at the moment?" Cheery asked.
"Kind of," Druellae said, and started to play. It was a simple piece, gentle and poignant, which almost seemed to bypass the ear and speak directly to the heart. After only a few bars, Druellae stopped and said, "That's as far as we've got, though."
"It's beautiful. Play the rest for me when you learn it, okay?" Cheery said with a smile. Then, squeezing Druellae's shoulder as she passed, she left the room.
She ran into Brutha outside the door. "Dad, were you listening in on that?"
"Couldn't help myself, that girl's coming along," Brutha confessed. "Cheery, I'd like you to come on a walk with me. I think the time has finally come."
"This isn't that pilgrimage you were always threatening me with as a kid, is it?" Cheery asked suspiciously.
"Ha! No. But it's something you should be aware of, nonetheless."
"If this wasn't happening to me, I wouldn't believe this was possible." Cheery said, agawk.
"Why? Not exactly strange by our family's standards, this sort of thing. And besides, we Discworlds have always been more highly attuned to death than your average family."
"Dad, you're wrecking the moment."
"Sorry."
If you're both quite done?
"We're done, great-grandfather. Although I have to admit my flabber has been ghasted."
Your flabber has been ghasted? You? The one who went after Death to bring back your brother? I find that hard to believe.
"Uh. You know about that, huh?" Cheery said, fidgeting.
Hey, I'm dead. I get around. So enough about me, what about you? Family good?
"As good as can be expected. The girls are getting top grade and Debbie's very nearly topped Science. Why am I telling you, anyway, Mr Omnipresent?" she asked.
Well, I never! Just because I can watch your every move doesn't mean I do! That would be creepy! And besides, I have April here to keep me busy.
"Fair point."
How about the rest of the family? Angua, Binky, Carrot and that lot?
"To be honest, we haven't seen a lot of them. Don't rub it in; I'm kind of guilty about that."
Not that I'm telling you how to live your life or anything, but you should probably visit Belafon if you get the chance.
Brutha sat up slightly. "Bel! I haven't even thought about him in months. I hope he's doing okay."
He is - just. Bill's looking after him. But I think he would benefit from a visit from you both... what's that? Oh, I'm being challenged to a game of two-a-side ping-pong with April, Albert and Gloria. Talk to you later!
"You know, the afterlife never struck me as the sort of place you play two-a-side ping-pong," Cheery said as they left the family cemetery.
"Cheery, you know that'll be me and Adie soon, don't you? Playing two-a-side ping-pong with my parents and grandparents?"
"Of course, dad," Cheery said, but the words choked her a little as they came out. In truth, she hadn't given it a thought but she supposed he must be right. Her own grandparents died long before she was even born, so Brutha and Adrienne were having a pretty good run. Nothing lasts forever, but that doesn't make the truth any easier to bear.
_______________
"Hey, you! Ginga four-eyes!"
Iris looked around in bewilderment for the source of the impertinent voice, and eventually found the small being in the private school uniform. "Me?"
"Yes, you!"
"'Ginga four-eyes', huh? You're one to talk if I may say so, Miss Dibbler! Besides, you shouldn't talk to me like that. Don't you know who I am?" Iris puffed herself up with self-importance.
"Sure I do, that's why I want to talk to you."
Iris deflated like a pricked pufferfish. "Oh. Alright, then. Shoot."
"You're the creator around this joint, ain'cha? The Almighty, the Overseer, the SimSelf?"
"Uhh. In theory-?"
"-Then do you mind explaining why I, Dibbler, am here, and Open For Business is not? I should sue you for lost profit, I should."
"Wow, back up the sushi truck, kid! You might want to check on the present I left over there for you before you start talking court proceedings."
"Is that..."
"It is! Enjoy OFB, kid. I got it just for you."
"Alright! High-five! Hang on a minute, high-fives?"
"Yep, I have Apartment Life too. If you go inside you'll see the ceiling-"
"Pssh. You think I have time for that now? I got lemonade to sell, lady! Gotta make up for lost time!"
"You're eleven."
"Lost time, I say!"
"So anyway, you seem a discerning Simself-Creator type thing, and I bet you'd spot a top-quality thirst-quenching beverage when you saw one. I assure you my lemonade falls in that category," Dibbler said, charm melting from every pore.
"Get real. I just saw you mixing this stuff from Quik-Lemon sachets and besides, the stall set me back a fair amount in the first place. No way."
"Finest Quik-Lemon sachets you'll ever lay your hands on! Come on, just thirteen dollars a glass! This stuff is worth fifteen at least; that's cutting my own throat!"
"Thirteen bucks?! Get real!"
(AN: I have been waiting four generations for Dibbler to say that. <3)
"You just have to be tough with kids these days, Adrienne. You can't let them call the shots or they'll never respect you."
Adrienne, resplendent in her nana-nightie, looked up from the wolf she was playing with (you know how it is when you start going senile). "Is that why you bought some lemonade, Iris dear?"
Iris looked enraged. "Wh- did not! I- wait, what? What the hell? Where did this come from? I've been duped!"
At her stall, Dibbler happily deposited sixteen dollars into her money bank.
Adrienne tutted and shook her head. "Silly, weak-willed Simself."
"I'll take two! No, three!"
"Damn. Kid's got a gift."
_______________
Finally, the day Diamanda had been not-so-patiently waiting for arrived. With her family cheering her on (even thought Debbie was ~confused and wandering around the wrong way) she made her wish:
I wish people would like me.
She blew out her candles in a single breath and waited for the birthday sparkles. She was nervous, having heard horror stories about transitional clothes. She hoped her teenage years would be a fresh chapter in her life, and the last thing she needed was to start that with an embarrassing outfit and, therefore, an embarrassing photo to follow her around.
She closed her eyes and...
...Grew into a perfectly respectable outfit. She took this to be a good omen but still carried out the traditional after-birthday-wardrobe-rush.
A change of clothes, a dab of makeup and a shiny new aspiration made all the difference to Diamanda's self-confidence. Of course, the real challenge would be the new high-school on Monday, but for the first time in her life she felt ready to take it on.
She decided she'd spent too much of her childhood worrying and being miserable, and resolved to focus on the simple things in life: bubble baths, dancing and, with any luck, dating. Fifty, if possible, and they would all be absolute knock-outs.
She still had questions, mainly about herself, and the 'shroud' Druellae mentioned, and also about the strange horse that appeared and disappeared so suddenly that night on her lawn. Questions, yes, but she would face them with a clear head and an unburdened heart.
(Please note, it was actually nighttime when I took this, but I used the 'Day/Night' toggle in Buy Mod because the light was bad. Just sayin', to avoid confustication with the next bit. Proceed.)
"Cheery, come quick - it's your father."
"Bzug?"
The patch of fuzz hovering in Cheery's vision turned into a worried face - Adrienne's.
"Wzrongwidim?" she mumbled, reluctantly allowing her dream to slip away. It had been a good dream. There were rainbows and unicorns.
"Just come, please. It's easier."
Horrible thoughs bombarded Cheery's mind from all directions as she followed her mother down the hall - of her father lying crumpled and lifeless on the floor - and her heart hammered faster with each step. She was therefore relieved to see Brutha, not dead, but quietly painting a picture.
"Yes? As if any of us haven't woken up in the middle of the night for a quick painting session, mum."
"But Cheery," Adrienne said, wringing her hands agitatedly.
"He's still asleep."
"Ah. Do you- do you think this is one of his visions?"
"I think it must be. But it's been years, for both of us. I thought they were gone for good and... and look at him! It's never been like this, never like this! Oh, Brutha..."
"We'd better stay here and watch him, I suppose. Make sure he's safe."
Adrienne nodded anxiously. "I didn't see what he saw. I wish I did. Oh, Bru..."
For hours, they watched Brutha paint. There was darkness, there was fire; and right in the middle, a broken figure on their knees. Whatever he'd seen, it wasn't pleasant. Cheery thought she recognised the person in the flames, but admitting that to herself - let alone saying it out loud - cut her to the heart.
Finally, Brutha spoke. "Torn three ways... Lost to the storm... A terrible decision. One no one should have to make."
Cheery voice trembled. "Who is it dad?"
Brutha opened his eyes and said one word, confirming Cheery's fears. "Diamanda."
________________
Well, the plot thickens like custard. Dastardly deeds and ~vishuns and stuff. Ooer. Hope you enjoyed this instalment, comments over on BoolProp would be nice!
Till next time, happy Simming! xx