Make Belief Studios ~

December 1, 2007

chapter 05

Filed under: 01 Into the Hive, Gilded Providence, Story, WIP — Tags: , , — Saturday @ 12:34 pm

I woke still dreaming, murmured something about cheating at chess, then fell back to sleep.

I was back in my own bed. Once Tremarch returned and woke me from the kitchen floor, I hurried back up to my room and didn’t come back out.

What seemed to be a few minutes later I jumped straight up in bed. There was both a swelling and a dryness in the back of my throat. My first instinct was to cough, hard, but it got stuck and tried to force its way through my throat’s walls before turning around and having me swallow it. I gasped, belched, and gasped again. There was a sudden pop in my nose and warm gooey mucus flowed out.

SICK!

That’s the first time that has ever happened to me. In weak effort I grabbed my sheets and tried to plug them up my nose. Wiping my face goo free then throwing the yellow clotted blankets as far from me as I could muster, but my strength was severely limited.

My nose felt plugged right up to the insides of my ears and my consciousness was floating in circles on the inside of my head. I was sick. Terribly sick. Not just because it was now my time of the month. The stress of being on my own must of suddenly caught up to me! My stomach felt airy, yet at the same time, like a hand inside me was squeezing everything into its fist.

Tok, tok, tok. There was a soft knock at my door.
“Meihuh-” I managed.
“We’d best be leaving if we want to make it to town before noon.” A soft voice came from the door. Tremarch must have sensed that I wasn’t doing well. “Are you awake, m’dear?”
“Ah dun wanna go. Ah fel awfule.”
“You know, m’dear, I will be gone until tomorrow and it will be an entire month before I’m prepared to escort you again.”
An entire month does seem like a long time… but…
“Fahn.” Whatever.
“Very well, Love. Will see you soon.” His footsteps softly dissipated away from the door. I cringed at his random pet name for me then continued to mope. I didn’t know what to do. I didn’t want to sleep, I didn’t want to move. The sunshine pouring in from the window was gently scorning me. I suddenly felt bad for being a burden to Tremarch, but I couldn’t seem to focus much energy on this. I lied back down.

Nothing happened that day. I had no appetite, yet I spent most of the day on the toilet outside. Tremarch returned and still nothing much happened. He cooked me various noodle soups (entirely homemade!) while I was sick, which was only for about three days. Seems kind of pathetic that I missed my chance to go to town over that.

One rather boring afternoon, I was sulking around the living room, and the food storage door came into view. By this time, thinking about it didn’t bother me nearly as much. It was weird and unnerving but I guess being sick was a good distraction, I could hardly remember all that had happened. My way of adjusting, I guess?

I did remember to ask Tremarch about the loud roaring and the earthquake. After a bellowing laugh he assured me not to worry.
Did he just laugh at me? I was practically crying when it happened! I pursed my lips and scowled.
“It is just something that can happen, whenever I’m among the wood.”
So that’s normal around here? … I’m confused. Whatever. As long as it was alright, I really didn’t want to know anything more about it.

Convincing me that the earthquake had nothing to do with the storage room, Tremarch took me down to help decide what should be cooked for supper that night. The storage room was small and dark. Typical underground food storage. Or at least until Tremarch struck a match and lit up a lamp. Then, just like the rest of the house, the small storage room seemed to catch the fire and glow as if it had never ever been darkened before.

Lined along the thin wooden shelves was a variety of preserves, jams, and aging sauces. A brittle looking wine bottle holder was behind the large gapped stairs which led down from the living room door. Beneath the shelves which stretched all the way to the end of the skinny room, boxes and barrels of vegetables, plants, roots, and mushrooms were stacked and fitted between clumps of brown paper wraps, which I presumed to be hunted meat. Tremarch didn’t seem to be the type to live off plants alone.

I also remembered to ask about the room with all the different weapons and armor. It didn’t seem to be something Tremarch was interested in, though. He was too excited about his idea to mix fried potatoes, onions and broccoli with ground boar and quickly scurried upstairs with an armful of ingredients.
Is it not his collection, or what?

Days and nights went by and I didn’t feel lonely or scared again. Nothing so out of the ordinary seemed to randomly occur and leave me shaken as it did that one day. Though, I did feel much more grateful toward Tremarch and even attempted to convince him to move back inside his house. He pondered it, but then decided it wasn’t necessary. Apparently he enjoys his little shack.

There were nights where I wondered whether or not I was wasting time. I could have left on my own easily at anytime. How long did I need to bother Mr. Jungor? He seriously might get mad at me someday.

Eventually my cramps totally subsided and I was quickly back to my old self. I was restless. Tremarch seemed to discourage me from helping around the house. He was strangely possessive of his cooking grill that went over the coals in the kitchen table.

I attempted to take up carving by practicing on the bottom leg of the staircase banister. I eventually got irritated and just kicked it out from under the wooden rail. Honestly, I thought I’d do a good job! But by the end it was obvious that it would be better to remove the leg.

The next day there was a brand new leg to the banister. Or deductively it was a new one. My artistic expressions weren’t scratched into this one and it seemed to be carved with a bit more skill than the other legs. It had the same rounded design, identical tone, color, and glow as the others, but it couldn’t have been the same one.

Regardless, I ended up kicking it out too. I returned my carving tools to the shed and gave up for good. Later that afternoon there was another leg in the empty spot of the banister. Tremarch was whistling happily as he dumped a pile of flaky chips into the thicket behind the shed.

“Tremarch?”
“Hmm?” He responded. A couple weeks had past since I was sick. After him taking care of me, I had gotten pretty comfortable around Tremarch, which, for whatever reason, had made me all the more uncomfortable about leeching off his house. I mean, believe it or not, it is easier to vandalize the banister of stranger than a half-friend.

“Where do you get your lumber? I mean, I’ve never seen you chop down a tree, but you certainly don’t get it from trees around the house.” Tremarch was staring distantly at the clouds while he sat on his shed porch and chomped at his pipe. A breeze trickled through the trees and each leaf chimed as it went by.
“The woods. Deeper in the woods.” Tremarch seemed to snap out of his thoughts. “The trees here are much too young. There are some great ones further in.” A smile sprouted across his face. “They are trees truly fit for an axeman! But I’m not only a lumberjack, you know? I’m-” Tremarch’s eyes popped wide open, his smile dropped and he looked at me blankly. I cocked my head to the side. “a carpenter.” He blinked and re-fixed his eyes on the skies, puffing through his pipe. The sounds of the wind took over our conversation.

That makes sense. I mean, I wouldn’t be surprised if this whole house was built by Tremarch. He’s always tinkering with small logs in his shed.
But his expression had gotten me curious.
Was he going to say something else?

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1 Comment »

  1. I like the fact that we are learning more about the house and the characters, but for some reason it took me awhile to realize that they actually decided to stay for the month instead of go, so naturally, I was a little confused. I will read the rest later, but I like how things are developing so far.

    Comment by Syreth — January 5, 2008 @ 6:43 pm


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