Clare-Dragonfly (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
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rainbowfic2013-04-28 11:22 pm
clare_dragonfly) wrote in rainbowfic2013-04-28 11:22 pm
Entry tags:
...Squirrel
Name: Clare
Story: Moonsisters
Colors: Caput Mortuum 6, Putrefaction
Supplies and Materials: none
Word Count: 333
Rating: PG-13
Warnings: gross dead stuff
Notes: I was looking for something on my mom's computer today and found a lot of my old files from high school and earlier (which I proceeded to email myself and then delete from her computer, because why does she need those?). I rediscovered this series, which I worked on a lot, even though I only finished a few stories. I remembered how much I loved them and decided to write about them again. This time I'll probably make them high school or college students instead of eighth graders, and make their nemesis less stupid. And their significant others: also less stupid.
Anyway, this piece is mostly just an exercise in characterization. I'm kind of pleased that I managed to remember all their names and a little bit about their personalities without actually having read through my old notes and stories. I definitely plan to post more, including stuff that explains why they're called the Moonsisters.
Mods, may I have a tag for Moonsisters? (Good lord these notes are longer than the story.)
Angel wiped at her face with the back of one hand. “What could have done this?” she whispered in a choked voice.
Charlotte poked it again with the stick. “A human.”
“Are you sure?” asked Laura, slightly sickened.
“How could it be anything else?” Ivy asked. She was circling the dead squirrel, peering down at it from a height. “What else kills a squirrel? Dogs, hawks? Not with a slash to the throat like that.”
“But why would any human kill a squirrel?” Angel rubbed at her face again and backed away.
“To torture it,” suggested Charlotte. “To show they had power over it.” She pushed it with the stick again, turning it over all the way and releasing another wave of the awful smell. “Just because they could.”
“I do lots of things because I can,” said Laura. “Killing a squirrel is not one of them.”
“Have you ever killed a bug?” Ivy asked coolly.
“No!” cried Angel in shock.
“Want to try?” Charlotte smirked. “There’s some beetles or something crawling out of the carcass.”
“I’ve killed bugs,” said Laura shakily. “But only when they were bothering me. I guess I could kill a squirrel if it came down to it—if it was rabid and after me or something like that. But it wouldn’t look like this.”
“Of course not,” said Ivy. “It would have a lot more cuts, or just have its head bashed in or something. This was deliberate.”
Angel covered her face.
Charlotte dropped the stick and stood up, dusting off her hands on her pants.
Laura turned away and wondered if she could make it to the nearest trash can before throwing up.
Ivy sniffed. “I wonder if the meat is any good. Maybe I could cook it.”
“No,” said Charlotte. “It’s not.”
“Let’s get out of here,” said Angel.
Laura didn’t think she was going to throw up anymore. “Please,” she agreed.
They left the park. The dead squirrel lay alone and disgusting in the moonlight.
Story: Moonsisters
Colors: Caput Mortuum 6, Putrefaction
Supplies and Materials: none
Word Count: 333
Rating: PG-13
Warnings: gross dead stuff
Notes: I was looking for something on my mom's computer today and found a lot of my old files from high school and earlier (which I proceeded to email myself and then delete from her computer, because why does she need those?). I rediscovered this series, which I worked on a lot, even though I only finished a few stories. I remembered how much I loved them and decided to write about them again. This time I'll probably make them high school or college students instead of eighth graders, and make their nemesis less stupid. And their significant others: also less stupid.
Anyway, this piece is mostly just an exercise in characterization. I'm kind of pleased that I managed to remember all their names and a little bit about their personalities without actually having read through my old notes and stories. I definitely plan to post more, including stuff that explains why they're called the Moonsisters.
Mods, may I have a tag for Moonsisters? (Good lord these notes are longer than the story.)
Angel wiped at her face with the back of one hand. “What could have done this?” she whispered in a choked voice.
Charlotte poked it again with the stick. “A human.”
“Are you sure?” asked Laura, slightly sickened.
“How could it be anything else?” Ivy asked. She was circling the dead squirrel, peering down at it from a height. “What else kills a squirrel? Dogs, hawks? Not with a slash to the throat like that.”
“But why would any human kill a squirrel?” Angel rubbed at her face again and backed away.
“To torture it,” suggested Charlotte. “To show they had power over it.” She pushed it with the stick again, turning it over all the way and releasing another wave of the awful smell. “Just because they could.”
“I do lots of things because I can,” said Laura. “Killing a squirrel is not one of them.”
“Have you ever killed a bug?” Ivy asked coolly.
“No!” cried Angel in shock.
“Want to try?” Charlotte smirked. “There’s some beetles or something crawling out of the carcass.”
“I’ve killed bugs,” said Laura shakily. “But only when they were bothering me. I guess I could kill a squirrel if it came down to it—if it was rabid and after me or something like that. But it wouldn’t look like this.”
“Of course not,” said Ivy. “It would have a lot more cuts, or just have its head bashed in or something. This was deliberate.”
Angel covered her face.
Charlotte dropped the stick and stood up, dusting off her hands on her pants.
Laura turned away and wondered if she could make it to the nearest trash can before throwing up.
Ivy sniffed. “I wonder if the meat is any good. Maybe I could cook it.”
“No,” said Charlotte. “It’s not.”
“Let’s get out of here,” said Angel.
Laura didn’t think she was going to throw up anymore. “Please,” she agreed.
They left the park. The dead squirrel lay alone and disgusting in the moonlight.
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...OK, that's kind of a fib.
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d
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Thank you!