Formaldehyde Pets
Candy Apple #5 (hand)
Marshmallow #8 (exploring)
Rocky Road #9 (basement)
Pistachio #9 (picnic)
Toppings:
Whipped Cream
Hot Fudge
Rating: PG-13
Story: Untilted
Character: Olivia Bailey//White
Hi guys! I'm really excited to make my first post here in RaTs. I'm not going to bore everyone with a lot of details but basically I'm using this group to "meet" some characters from the novel I'm writing. Particularly my two villians. Ask questions, critique (though I didn't try too hard on this I just wanted to get a post cranked out) and enjoy. And tell me if I did anything wrong.
Her pudgy legs held her up in a crouch over the edge red and white checked blanket. Her mother had brought it. “Its perfect for a picnic, dear, so stereotypical.” she had said. Olivia noted they hadn't brought the stereo and wondered what she meant. Little hands rested on her band-aid covered knees; her parents worried about her. She was always bruised up and getting hurt. The doctors said it was nothing to worry about. That was typical of a six year old. Presently she watched the ants carry off the crumbs of her turkey sandwich while her parents slept behind her. Once she heard her father begin to snore she stood and picked up her satchel - a worn canvas messenger bag gifted from her father. When she heard they were going to picnic in the forest she was keen on exploring it. So she sat out, ignoring the trail they had hiked in on and ventured into the woods. Sunlight filtered through the trees, bugs played like fairies in the dappled spotlights. She enjoyed the warmth and the breeze. Winter had been long. Then she came upon it: A small dilapidated structure. It could have once been a house for she saw a small door that lead to a basement. Without fear she headed for inside. The sun cast strange light through the dusty window. The air seemed yellow, thick with pollen from the plants that had taken over. Olivia wandered the rooms; A livingroom with peeling green wallpaper, a kitchen that still had an oven - she opened it to check for treasures - nothing, and a tiny bedroom with a rusted out boxspring. She saved the basement for last. Outside a cloud passed over the sun, turning the rooms gray. The door next to the kitchen groaned in agony as she heaved it open. The basement below was filled with thick blackness. From her satchel she pulled her Barbie flashlight and turned it on. She descended the stairs with care, even at her young age she knew there was a possibility they would give beneath her. A sigh escaped her when she hit the firm dirt floor. Her light fell upon jar after jar of vegetables, like the kind at her grandmother's. She wandered the few shelves until she found something interesting. At first she thought it was a pickle jar, the water was green like pickle juice but upon further inspection she saw it was a human hand. The fingernails were still there, ridged and yellow. She was grateful that her cousins weren't with her. They would have fled the basement like babies. Instead she took the jar and gingerly placed it into her satchel. Her parents were still asleep when she returned, her journey had taken no more than half an hour. She shook her mother awake and held out her “treasure” with pride; claiming she had found a new “pet”.