Do You Wanna Build A Snowman? - 1098 Words
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Team Player - 1564 Words
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“So if you could be anywhere you wanted to be, where would you choose?” A red-headed girl tapped her lip in thought, chocolate gaze turning to her raven-haired companion.
“Well...” A pair of girls walked lazily through Karakura city park, cicadas singing loudly, the voices of children laughing in the background. It had been a period of peace, so to speak. The hollow outbreak had been taken care of; with the help of Ichigo, and by the gods even the Quincy Uryuu, the last of them had been defeated not two days prior. It was nice to take a simple walk without the shadow of threat looming over one's head. 'If I could be anywhere I wanted to be...' Orihime thought over this question with fervent interest. Where would she go? There were so many wonderful places! And not to mention the foods those places had? There were specialty stores all over the city that sold novelties; those would be prime places to be. But there were also other places as well! Korea with their kimchi, and Australia with their kangaroo stew! She tapped her lip again. What kinds of foods did they serve in the Seireitei? What about Hueco Mundo? Perhaps... maybe... there were food Hollows? Ninja Hollows that fed on the souls of those who ate well? So many possibilities! But wait no, the question was not about food, it was about places. Orihime glanced over to her companion, Rukia. Well, of course, she'd like to be someplace with her friends. Soul Society was a pretty interesting place, but not everyone could go there. Maybe right here in Karakura town? But what if it was really hot? Everyone would want to be in a cool place. But then what if it was really cold? What if it was hot and cold all at once? Orihime wrinkled her nose when a snowflake landed on it at that very moment, and flattened out her shorts with her palms. Surely it couldn't be snowing in June, could it? Still, her chocolate eyes sparkled in wonder when another flake fell, followed by another, then another. Rukia hadn't seemed to notice yet. Perhaps it was snowing only for her? “Is it... snowing?” Perhaps it wasn't. Rukia's face was turned towards the cloudy sky, which had been sunny not too long ago, to observe the flurry that was raining down upon them. A breeze ruffled the hair around her neck and she shivered; it had been warm not ten minutes ago, hadn't it? When did it get so cold? Grey eyes turned to Orihime, who looked back with a smile beginning to crack her face. “Yep!” It was unbelievable. Flakes fell like glitter from the sky, and the girls paused to look around at Karakura park. Rukia glanced around. Perhaps Hitsugaya was playing a joke on them? Surely not; the captain of the tenth squad was much too serious for that. Still, it didn't stop the shinigami from doublechecking. It didn't take very long for the snowfall to get heavier. It fell to the ground like frozen cotton, blanketing the ground in icy fluff. The blades of green grass were buried in the white. Orihime dug her hands into the snow, balling it between her palms. In her excitement, the girl could barely feel the chill that sunk into her fingers, and her misguided snowball missed Rukia's ear by a mere fraction. There was a sharp intake of breath; Rukia hadn't been facing Orihime and the whoosh of the projectile passing by her ear startled her. “Hey!” Orihime yelped as a snowball landed squarely between her eyes, exploding on impact. She shook the snow bits from her face and grinned in laughter, having engaged Rukia in the snowball war of the year. Many of the park-goers had joined in the game as well, and the space was filled with yells and shouts and laughter. When that game had lost its shine and a winner had been decided (Orihime's ragtag team had lost), the girls looked at eachother, thinking of something to do. “Hey,” Orihime started, gesturing to the ground, “do you wanna build a snowman?” Rukia curled her fingers, smoothing her skirt. Her fingers were getting numb with the chill. The exercise helped, but... “Sure!” Still, it sounded fun. Making a snowball and rolling it in the snow, the girls made a giant snow mound and pushed it together to the middle of the park. A nice robust body for a fat, happy snowman. Next came the head. It didn't need to be so large; and Rukia worked on rolling the head while Orihime ran off to look for things to decorate their snowman with. Digging under the snow, Origime found pebbles that could be used to draw his face, and found a stray cap that had no one to claim it. Collecting these items, she returned to her friend as the head was being lifted onto the body. It was beautiful. What had been an ordinary summer day had turned into a winter wonderland. But as they finished the snowman, the chill started seeping into the girls' bones. They hadn't been dressed for this kind of weather, not with bare legs, toes, and arms. Rubbing her arms for warmth, Orihime backed up to view their snowy creation, and accidentally knocked into a small tree. In the process she inadvertantly knocked loose the snow from the branches, which dumped down on both girls' heads. Shaking the snow off her hair, Rukia knocked Orihime upside the head. “As if it wasn't cold enough!” All Orihime could do was laugh in response. Grabbing her friend by the wrist, Orihime ran to find a patch of untouched snow. Finding what she was looking for, she promptly dropped to the ground and dragged Rukia down with her to make snow angels. Content, Orihime smiled, looking up at the snowy sky dreamily. It took her a moment to register Rukia's voice. “...hime...” Orihime blinked. Huh? “...hime. Hello? Orihime!” The snowscape blurred, and when her vision cleared again, Orihime's gaze fell on her concerned friend's face. Instead of the white snow, the backdrop was green, and the sounds of cicadas met her ears once more. Rukia was slightly irritated, and brushed a stray lock of raven hair from her eyes. All she did was ask a simple question, and Orihime had gotten herself lost in some fantasy again. “Well?” With a slight pout at her fantasy being dispersed, Orihime tapped her lip again. “Well,” she concluded, “I'd like to be anywhere as long as it's together with everyone.” |
“Did you have to hit me so hard?”
“It needed to look convincing, didn't it?” “Well yes, but still...” Kashii winced when Adachi's fingers stroked along his brow, fingertips healing the gash across it that she herself had afflicted. Despite obvious injury, Daichi slapped him on the back hard enough to knock him forward with a laugh. Adachi and Daichi had been with Kashii since their genin days, and they were glad to offer him a helping hand at his request. Trapped in walls of earth, hanging upside down, were a set of genin. Wrapped around the left leg of each hung a sign. “I cannot tell the difference between life and death,” read one. “I don't know how to use elementary jutsu,” read another. “I let my teammates die to save my own skin,” read the third. “You're really a cruel guy, you know that Kash?” Kashii grinned, twisting his head to look back at his male partner as Adachi taped the last of the bandages on. “It's called tough love.” “If that's how you show love, I'd hate to be your enemy.” “You wouldn't have to worry about that, Adachi. All of my enemies are dead.” * * * “Listen up!” Kashii's voice, along with a loud clap, silenced the chatter of the fresh-off-the-press genin assigned to him. The three students, two males and one female, looked him over. Kashii knew that look. That look of disapproval. His appearance was so dreadfully unintimidating that it was laudable for a stranger to believe he was a capable jounin. He smirked at the look they gave him. He'd left them waiting a bit before dropping in at training ground 2. “We'll do the standard get-to-know-yous, then we'll begin. Hello, my name is Namame Kashii, I'll be your instructor. Like to fight, hate to lose.” By the end of the sentence he'd already sounded mildly exasperated, as if he didn't want to be there. As if he had something better to do with his time. The kids already seemed irritated, but followed suit. “Yamamoto Hana... I like baking and dislike lizards...” “Well, I'm Masamoto Kenshin, and I like to win! But I really hate people who cry.” “Yagato Nue. I like rain, dislike dogs.” Kashii clicked his tongue at the term “dog,” then folded his arms with a nod, examining the three over closely with his gold eyes. All in all, they seemed like a good bunch of kids. A nice mix of personalities. A lot more normal than his first team had been for sure. The thought of that left a half-smirk on his lips. Thankfully he wouldn't need to wait to see if these kids would try his patience the way the first team had. “Alright, now that we're done with that, how about we learn what you guys can do. I have a little test for you to see if you all have what it takes to be an Iwa shino—” Kashii didn't have the chance to finish however, and he cursed when a kunai whizzed passed his ear, nearly clipping it. The training ground he'd chosen to meet at was on the outer edge of the village. Hana yelped at the sudden kunai, bouncing backward when a set of shuriken implanted themselves in the place she stood not moments before. Kashii's black knife was out by the time the assailant revealed herself, jagged knife scraping the length of the kunoichi's tanto. Distracted with her, Kashii was unable to move in time to pull Kenshin out of the way of the second assailant, his form much larger than the kunoichi's. Both were clad in black, masks hiding their identities, both ready to kill the lot of them. There was panic, the genin scrambling to do something, anything, but it wasn't enough. Three kunai lodged themselves into Kashii's torso, and before he could react, the hilt of the rogue kunoichi's tanto collided with his head, putting him on the ground. It was complete chaos. The calmest of the three, Nue, ran through handseals, shooting small bullets of earth at the enemy to lure them away from their injured teacher. The distraction worked well enough, and Hana dashed toward their teacher's side. She couldn't see him breathing, and panicked, checking for a pulse and finding none. The wound on his forehead had bled a lot, red seeping from the kunai in his stomach. Kenshin was actively engaged with the male, but it was clear he was grossly outmatched. Barely dodging a stray earth bullet thrown by Nue, Kenshin stumbled, and the handle of a kunai got slammed into the back of his neck. Stunned, Kenshin was helpless to resist as the large male bound his arms and legs, hefting the young genin onto his shoulder like a sack of potatoes. “I got one of 'em! How're you doin' on your end?” A feminine grunt as an earth bullet grazed the rogue kunoichi. “The girl will be easy enough but the bookworm is becoming troublesome.” In irritation, the kunoichi went through a string of seals and slammed her palms into the earth. In an instant, the surface fluctuated like waves, an uneven ocean of hard dirt. Unbalanced, both Nue and Hana fell, which was plenty of time for the kunoichi to charge. In an instant she lunged for Hana, tanto biting into the girl's tender throat with a started yell to accompany. In a panic, Nue bolted, using the shunshin his father had taught him to escape. The two rogues were busy with the other prey and the teacher was dead. He needed to run. But there was no place to go. An earth wall rose quicklu, and he slammed right into it as he fled. Dazed, he stumbled back, turning around. In another moment, two more earth walls rose at an angle, pinning the boy in place by the neck. Nue cowered beneath the rims of his glasses as the two rogues approached him; Kenshin slung over the shoulder of the male, Hana being pushed by her hair forward with the blade at her neck. Nue screwed his eyes shut, absolutely sure he was going to be killed. With a grunt, both rogues tossed their prizes in a pile at Nue's feet. At the sound a slow clap, however, five pairs of eyes paused to watch the small bluenette emerge from behind the bushes where he'd been abandoned, an amused grin on his face as he approached. “Thanks for the help, Daichi, Adachi.” The two “rogues” pulled off their masks, white shells resting at the top of the head and black cloth yanked down to below the chin. “It was fun,” Dai said with a grin. “You really ought to invite us for things like these more often,” came Adachi's input. The three genin stared incredulously and Kashii, who wiped the crusting blood from his forehead with mild irritation. A couple of handseals, and Nue's prision crumbled apart, the swift blade of one of the kunai from his own abdomen to slice the rope binding Ken's limbs. “But you were dead!” Hana said, having been the one to check for vitals. “If you'd stayed calm, you'd have realized it takes much more than that to kill a shinobi,” he said cooly, “And if you knew how to find a pulse and could tell when one holds their breath, that would have helped you as well.” “But the kunai...” Kenshin started, eyes on the remaining two kunai lodged in Kashii's abdomen, the dark sticky color continuing to slowly spread. Without much of an answer, Kashii unzipped his jacket, revealing his flak underneath. The kunai fell loose when he pulled the jacket apart, revealing they'd been lodged in a thick leathery area at the navel, red ink now dripping freely from the holes. “And in time, you'll know what blood actually smells like.” Ink had an unpleasant smell when used in such large quantities; something he'd learned intimately under Soyokaze's tutelage. Getting hit with a dart of ink essentially meant you'd been killed and it got you sent home. Kenshin cursed, rolling to sit up. Moving to Nue, Kashii stood eye-to-eye to Nue, cold yellow eyes examining the child carefully. “And you...” Kashii's gaze fell to the other children who still remained on the ground, then back to Nue's red eyes. “Without even so much as an attempt to try, without so much as a second glance, you abandoned your teammates at the drop of a hat. You may have learned excellent jutsu from your family, but that does not make you worthy of calling yourself a shinobi.” Kashii stepped back, waiting until the three were all on their feet, all looking rather ashamed. He glanced at his former teammates, a wry grin replacing the serious face he wore moments before. “Whaddya guys think? Another six months at the academy? A year?” “A year sounds good.” “Maybe two.” Right as the three genin opened their mouths to retort, Kashii spat a line of mud over their feet, and raised a wall, sweeping them upward with it by their feet. With amusement he watched them squirm and curse, completely ignoring the insults. He crouched, as their faces were low to the ground, and poked Nue in the face, pushing the boy's glasses back in place. “Shall we discuss what you three did wrong before I send you on your way?” |
Ants - 6704
Up until two days ago, my life was perfect. Perfect job working at a fashion magazine studio, perfect friends to go out for coffee every day with, perfect girlfriend who came home with beer. I had been scouting in the city, looking for candidates for an upcoming article concerning novice volunteer models scouted from the streets. That was how I met her.
She had to be the most beautiful woman I'd ever seen. Long raven hair, ruby lips, emerald eyes. Even in a simple tee and cutoff jeans, she looked like a goddess. That had been, perhaps, when I got put under her bewitching spell. The moment we made eye contact, she smiled, eying the messenger bag at my hip, camera around my neck, and penpad in hand. That smile lured me right to her.
“Hello, miss!” I said, jogging up to where she stood. The people around her parted and blurred into the background; it seemed as if she and I were the only ones on the city block. “The name's Lassic. Lassic Conner. I'm a journalist for a magazine, Kittywalk Fashions. I'm scouting for volunteer amateur models.”
The woman's bright green eyes seemed to look me over. When she deemed me worthy for an answer, she tilted her head and offered an awkward wave.
“Hi, I'm Claire.”
“Well, Claire, would you be interested in doing an interview with me and modeling a few outfits? It'll only take an hour of your time and you get to keep the clothes!”
At the promise of new clothes, Claire's interest sparked.
“Sure... but I'm not very good in photos.”
“It's okay!” I grinned at her, scratching down her name on the notepad. “Just act natural.”
Naturally, I didn't understand how serious she would take “act natural.” No one noticed anything until the cameras started flashing at the outdoor photo shoot I took her to. It was normal for the flashes to leave afterimages in your eyes, but the afterimages never faded; if anything, they grew so bad we were all but blinded. It wasn't until the next day I awoke, and even longer still to realize what happened.
“Hey, you alright, bud?”
I groaned, eyes opening to the blinding light. Putting an arm over my face, I shoved myself to a sitting position, and blinked at my new companion once my eyes adjusted. Green hues continued to tint the edges of my vision.
“Wha... what happened?”
I let him pull me to my feet, and shifted unsteadily on the rocks I was standing on. He merely shook his head, and looked around at the other people here. Some looked like they'd been here for a long time, without bath or proper meals. Some looked scared and confused, some kept their mind on their work. Most of the people were moving around the rocks which seemed to be the whole of the landscape. Crouching, I examined the rocks more closely. By far, they were the most beautiful I'd ever seen, in such a variety of colors. Tans, browns, whites, some were even somewhat transparent and cloudy.
Brushing the dust from my hands, I took a good hard look at my surroundings. The strange rocks, the people. After a moment it hit me that it was dark and light all at once. The light was artificial, but when I looked up, all I saw was darkness. Then, it occurred to me. There were tall, thin walls extending upward on either side, forming a long hall. There were tunnels, from what I could tell, for people were entering and exiting from the ground. The more I learned, the more confused I became. It wasn't until the next day I learned what was really going on, and that brings us up to speed.
Ants. That's what we were. Nothing more than insignificant ants. It took seeing a pair of impossibly large green eyes through the wall of my new prison to learn that. A moment of staring at the eyes led me to realize that who I was looking at was Claire. After gaping at how large she had become, it was then when I had realized it was not her that had become giant, but myself, and those around me, that had become small. Impossibly small. It was not a prison we were in, with a strange rocky landscape, but merely an ant farm, filled with damp sand. Although, as far as I was concerned, it was a prison.
* * *
“Claaaaiiire. I told you you need to stop doing that. You're going to get in trouble.”
“Please. Like I can't charm them into forgetting once I decide to free them. Like an all-expenses-paid trip to Hawaii for these guys.” She tapped the glass, knocking a few people on their asses. “They're just little bugs, Sarah, I've been telling you that.”
Sarah looked at her roommate disapprovingly. When she first found out Claire was a magic user, a sorceress, it had been fantastic. But now, it had become an annoyance. Sure, changing the color of your blouse to match your shoes was fun, but Claire would bring people home to put in her ant farm like pets. Sure, she could get away with it. Magicians were so uncommon that it was easier to believe they'd been abducted by aliens than spirited away.
When Claire left, Sarah sat down on the stool next to the desk that held the ant farm. Claire would be out the rest of the night, doing who-knew-what with others like her. Sarah never asked. Resting her elbow on the desktop, she put her head in her hand and stared absently at the tiny people in the tank. Some of them had been there for as long as she could remember. Claire would find people without homes or people to care for them as permanent residents of her pet collection. It always made Sarah think of Polly Pocket from when she was little, the micro-sized doll with little accessories; the entire dollhouse could fit in the pocket. Back then, anyway.
These people had micro-sized tools and clothes, even some of their own animals, all shrunk down to ant-sized. It was like its own ecosystem. Despite the verbal protests, Sarah would pass time watching the little people work; carving out tunnels and building little home units. Some people looked happy. Some looked desperate to survive. They did get fed; it wasn't as if survival was hard. Folding her arms, Sarah rest her head on them on the desk, eye-level with the sand behind the glass. As she watched, she could see one tiny person pressing up against the glass, and she moved her face closer, pushing her glasses to the tip of her nose to identify it as male.
He waved his arms frantically at her. She frowned slightly. He had coppery-brown hair, and appeared to be in his late twenties, not much older than herself. Tapping uneven painted fingernails against the surface of the desk, she watched him for a period of time. Sarah had never really taken an interest in Claire's collection, beyond scolding her for collecting in the first place. Perhaps she should take part. At the end of the day, they were human, just like her.
Looking around the room, Sarah started digging through drawers. Most of the people in there didn't notice they were in an ant farm. Not so soon, anyway. They fight among each other, scared. Wondering where they are. Who those other people are. How they got there. Why they were there. But this guy was pounding against the glass, trying to garner the attention of the girl on the other side. Finding what she was looking for, a sewing kit, Sara smiled and began unspooling some green thread. It could be her little secret, playing with Claire's pet farm. Rather morbid, really, when she stopped to think about it.
Moving back to the glass, Sarah gently poked where the tiny male stood, then gestured for him to go to the end of the tank. The food holes were there. Popping open the latch, Sarah lowered the thread to the man in the tank.
* * *
“Oh thank god.”
I was overjoyed. I'd been noticed. I'd been acknowledged. No one else had paid attention to the two females on the other side of the glass, but they were all I watched. However when asked about what I was doing, my replies produced less desirable results. Rather than ignoring the girls on the other side of the glass, they seemed to fear them. Quite understandable, really, given the circumstances, but to be downright ashamed? I work in fashion, I know how to read expressions. I guess I just hadn't been there long enough to know why.
For now, I would dismiss that fact. It could be found out later. My focus was instead on the rope that was being lowered. The others ignored it, even shied away from it. But not me. I ran headlong, tripping now and then on the loose grains of sand. Finally reaching it, I grabbed hold with all of my might, and felt my feet leave the ground.
When my head came free of the ant farm, my heart all but stopped. Inside of the farm, many of the things there were shrunk down to a comfortable size. But this room was massive, as if I was on the set of Honey, I Shrunk the Kids. I clung to my thread-rope even tighter. An edge of panic filled me as I soared across the desktop, hanging literally by a thread, and landed rather ungracefully on the surface.
Every instinct told me to run, get out of here, escape. But it was my logic that kept me rooted. What could a man half-an-inch tall accomplish? I'd more likely be eaten or stepped on before I got to anyone that could help me. Even then, the only one that could help me was a sorcerer, and to date, I've only met one. So for now, I looked up, staring at the large murky-blue eyes hidden behind purple plastic glasses frames.
In return, Sarah looked down upon the small man. Unlike her roommate, Sarah couldn't perform magic. It was a rare genetic mutation, not even hereditary. It was a one-in-a-million chance to be born with it, and Sarah was not so lucky. It did not stop her from longing. Setting down the thread, she looked for a magnifying glass. Locating it in a drawer, she set the flat edge on the desk, and looked at her new source of entertainment, me.
He seemed as if he had been well-off when Claire found him. He was dressed well, and carried a bag with him. Perhaps a college student or something? She couldn't be sure. Sarah gently poked the tiny man, and inadvertently knocked me onto my ass as a result. My angry reaction earned a smile, and if anything, that pissed me off even more.
“So who are you supposed to be, little flea?”
I growled at the insult. It wasn't as if I chose to be so fricken' tiny.
“Lassic Conner. I work for Kittywalk Fashions. You've heard of it, haven't you?”
“Mm-hmmm.”
“So you see, it's important that I get back there as soon as possible.”
“Sorry to burst your bubble, sweetheart, but I doubt you'll be back any time soon.”
Sarah watched with interest as I cursed, kicking her finger in anger. She barely felt it. She watched me a moment longer. 'This Lassic was kind of cute, in his own right,' Sarah thought to herself. Sarah had trouble talking to boys, but it seemed when they were the size of an ant, she had no trouble at all. It just figured, didn't it?
A noise outside the room caught Sarah's attention. With a curse, she scooped me into her hand with an index card and sat on her bed, looking rather nonchalant when Claire entered the room. I clung tightly to the inside of her hand, holding my footing in the creases of her palm. Peeking through a gap in her fingers, I watched that witch enter the room.
“Did you forget something, Claire?”
Claire eyed her roommate. Her emotions were always plain on her face. She did something she wanted to hide. Probably got into the ink used for writing spells again. It was imbued with Claire's own magic; it was quite possibly the only way a non-sorcerer could utilize magic. Of course, that was under the pretense that they knew any spells, and Sarah was pitiful at poetry. Moving to her side of the room, Claire plucked a green blazer from her chair.
“Yeah, just this. Don't forget to feed the ants, Sarah.”
Sarah nodded, hands clasped in her lap. She let out a breath of relief when the sorceress left, and opened her hands. I looked around at the room from the palm of the girl holding me. Was this girl an enemy or ally? I couldn't be sure. But a glance at the ant farm revealed a mass of people watching from the side. Apparently this wasn't something that occurred often. I felt slightly smug, compared to the people in the farm. But that feeling just as quickly ebbed away. What if I was going to be used in some weird science experiment? Suddenly things got that much scarier. Until now, I hadn't fully absorbed the ramifications of the situation.
I clung to the woman's thumb helplessly. I had half a mind to beg her to put me back into the ant farm. Holding her hand up to eye level, Sarah looked at me. She studied my diminutive form a little more, then stood, walking back over to the farm. It seemed that I didn't need to beg, and I grabbed tight to the thread when it was offered, allowing myself to be lowered back into the prison.
Once my feet hit the uneven, rocky terrain of sand, I ran. There was nowhere to run, really, but it was the best way to shake my nerves. I liked to run. So I ran. Unfortunately, I wasn't able to see the tunnel until I tripped over it, and I found myself tumbling downwards into a curving hole. Instinctively I covered my head and curled up, waiting for my body to stop moving. When I did stop falling, I flopped my limps outward, staring blankly upward at the sandy ceiling. It was fascinating, really, that it didn't hurt nearly as much as it should of. Perhaps the old saying “the bigger you are, the harder you fall” had meaning after all.
“Well, this sucks.”
* * *
A week passed before I spoke to Sarah again. Sure, I'd seen her now and again, looking through the clear plastic walls at us. Overhearing the girls talk about us taught me why the others felt shame. Claire more than Sarah, they thought us weak. Small and insignificant, our meager existences were meaningless. Even me, a rather headstrong individual, lost the will to fight. Those girls were right, we were insignificant. Weak. Powerless. In my entire life, I'd never felt so helpless. And that was only the first week.
Naturally, I didn't let that show when I felt those massive eyes overshadowing me as I worked, helping move around the sand. Everyone needed to dig out their own cavity to sleep in. I would remain a defiant bastard for as long as I needed to towards these women. I wasn't broken, just bent.
Sitting in my cavity cross-legged, I frowned, one hand on my knee and the other scraping sand away from the wall. Wet sand was dirty and that made it a bit difficult to see through the plastic, but I managed, and would watch the girls. They paid us no mind, especially Claire, and it was a free show every time they got dressed. Not like there was anything else to do here, anyway.
I missed Sam. I didn't tell you much about Sam, did I? Short and choppy dishwater blonde with hazel eyes, we'd been dating since high school. She was everything in a girl a man could want. I loved her. So much. She'd been away on work-related business. She was supposed to come home this week. How will she feel, I wondered, to learn that good ol' Lassic's been MIA for the last eight days? Even if I managed to escape here, what could she do with a man less than an inch tall? Assuming I didn't get stepped on before getting to her. Who knew how long that witch would keep me here, and I was helpless to do anything but wait out my sentence in this cage. It made my heart ache.
That was why I couldn't give up. I had to persevere. I had to keep trying. And I had to keep trying to draw attention to myself. Somehow, I needed to earn the favor of these women.
* * *
“Look at him, he's so cute.”
“Mmm-hhhmmm.”
Sarah looked on absently as Claire poked at the farm. The new arrival tried way too hard. Every time someone sat down to observe or feed them, he'd press up against the side, banging his tiny little fists. Claire smirked at his futile efforts.
“Eventually the little insect will learn his place.”
Sarah swore she could see the frown on the male's expression. He had a lot of spunk. The girl would give him that. Brushing her mousy hair behind her shoulder, Sarah watched Claire grab her purse.
“Sure you don't want to come?”
“Short on cash this week.”
“You know I can—”
“You know how I feel about that, Claire. It's still stealing.”
The raven-haired girl shrugged her shoulders.
“To each her own.”
When Claire left, Sarah dug for the sewing kit again, withdrawing a red thread this time.
* * *
Part of me considered ignoring her. But a larger part of me wanted to escape. So when the red thread was lowered, I dashed towards it and grabbed hold. It was a game of cat and mouse, but I was more than willing to play.
“So to what do I owe the pleasure of this visit, Sarah?”
There was no answer as I was lowered down to the desktop. I dropped to a cross-legged sit, right hand never releasing the thread. I watched the girl purse her lips at me. Frankly, she made me miss Sam all the more. Idly, I wondered if I'd ever see her again. Sam always gave me that look when I came home late from work. 'You should have called,' she'd say.
“Looking for someone to talk to.”
This time it was my time to purse my lips. Why not talk to Claire, or to someone who doesn't hate her? But I lacked in much choice. She could easily crush me with her pinky finger alone. It was a trust exercise I was forced to participate in.
“What's your favorite food?”
“...Eh? Oh, um...” I blinked at the random question. “Chicken?”
I watched the girl nod, and tilted my head.
“Yours?”
“Twizzlers.”
…Did candy count as a favorite food? I wouldn't argue. It wouldn't hurt to have someone to talk to, I supposed. The others in the farm didn't make for good conversation. Though that could also have been because I didn't want to be friendly with any of them. I didn't want to feel like I was starting to fit in. To belong mixed in with them. Like it or not, I belonged to the world Sarah and Claire lived in, and that was the world I needed to be interacting with.
Our random conversation continued on for a few hours; I even got some chicken. Watching her scribe with a quill pen and the plate shrinking to a comfortable size was more than fascinating. But she insisted to me she was not a sorceress, merely using the magic ink. I was skeptical, but I chose to believe her. For now. I didn't know much about sorcery as it was. If I had any hope of escape, I needed to befriend the enemy.
I met with Sarah many more times. She'd share stories of boys and dogs and colors; girlish things that I had little particular interest in. That was until she started on the topic of clothes. It was that one common interest that hit us off, and it turned to me looking forward to talking with Sarah. Some days she couldn't talk at all, some days she had all the time in the world. But on all accounts, it was when Claire was not home. On one such occasion, however, we ran into... difficulties.
“Sarah, do you want to go out tonight?”
Sarah jarred to a full stop, having introduced me to the new additions in her closet. I'd helped her coordinate more than one outfit on occasion (I do work at a fashion magazine, after all), and now was one of those times. I found myself literally thrown into a pit of darkness, and tumbled into a pile of unfolded undergarments. Shaking the stars from my eyes, I began to crawl through the sea of cotton threads and lace to the light that came from the crack.
“Out where?”
Claire raised a brow at her roommate, who seemed startled when she walked in. Sure, Claire had come home early, but...
“Have you been playing with that Lassic again?”
“Psh, no. No way.”
Oh, that was convincing. Claire gave a half-smirk. Sarah had never really shown an interest in her little insect collection until now. Well, when she'd first seen it, yeah, but the excitement had worn off over time. It was cute, how her roomie was showing interest again. For now, Claire would allow it. She didn't pay much attention to the people in the farm, anyway. As long as they were all there.
Sarah stood, a little stiff, and turned toward her closet, looking at her clothes to decide what to wear. She'd reorganized a lot thanks to my intervention, and selected a cute yellow ruffle top with faded denim capris.
“Where are we going?”
“To meet some boys. You need to get out of the dorms sometimes, Sarah.”
There was a groan. “But if I left, who would take care of your bugs?”
“They're bugs. They can watch themselves for a few hours.”
Ugh, that helpless feeling again. I was still crossing the field of panties, and by the time I reached the front of the drawer, I could hear the door open and the girls exit. 'You didn't have to leave me in here,' I thought to myself. I longed for Sam again. The news station had noticed my absence by now. “Serial Killer” they said. I wasn't the first person to go missing, clearly, and they assumed it was either one person or one group committing the same crimes. Well, they weren't wrong, but the mysterious vanishings weren't caused by a group of serial killers, but instead by a female college student.
With a sigh, I dug my fingers into the wood grain and slowly climbed my way out of the drawer. What I wouldn't give for a proper shower. Reaching the top, I seated myself at the edge of the the drawer, allowing my legs to dangle, and stared outward to the desk that held the ant farm. I could see movement, all the dozens of other people that had been taken. I had not made a single friend within the glass prison. But there were a few people I could work together with. Larry, Angela, and Thom, to name a few.
Larry and Angela were siblings. They used to work together at a coffee shop before they came here. Thom was a homeless veteran, getting on in his years. Frankly, Thom was happy to live there, provided with warm shelter, meals, and company. It wasn't a luxurious life, but compared to the streets of Manhattan, it was home.
I rest my elbows on my knees. Frankly, I doubted I'd be able to get down without killing myself. The outside world thought I was dead. I lived in an ant farm, governed by two girls, whom acted as our gods, whom constantly berated us and referred to us as “bugs” or “insects” or “ants.” Sarah showed kindness to me, yes, but only to me, and only sometimes at that. Clearly, I had time to rethink my life.
I had been here at least three months. Dead to the outside world, no doubt Sam had started moving on. She was a pretty and smart girl. I let out a loud sigh, sweeping the room. Even if I could somehow make it to the desk, I wouldn't be able to climb back into the ant farm and retreat to my little cubby. Getting to my feet, I balanced on the edge of the drawer and made my away around the perimeter, climbing onto the top of the dresser. It was fascinating, really. All the things I'd never given much thought to before were very real now. Dust was big enough to trip over. Rings were the size of splash pools. I could go lancing with earrings. Making my way to the jewelry box, I climbed inside a dish, finding a comfortable niche against a round hoop earring and relaxing to await Sarah's return.
* * *
It was dark when the door opened. I shook my sleepy head—when had I fallen asleep?—and watched the women come back into the dorm. I sat up, watching with mild interest as they removed their coats, Claire further disrobing for her night clothes. Watching the raven-headed girl distracted me from noticing Sarah, whom had sauntered her way over to the dresser, probably looking for me in the drawer.
Easily overlooked, I hefted a ball stud earring from under my legs and tossed it out onto the dresser top to bring her attention to me. Once eye contact was made, she gave a half-smile and went back about her business, likely waiting for Claire to sleep. Once the sorceress was asleep (after a good deal of time talking about the night), Sarah came back for me under the pretense of staying awake to read a book for some assignment in her Women's Rights class.
“So how was your night?”
Sarah sighed.
“Miserable. Claire always tries setting me up with boys, but it never works out. I can never talk to them.”
I tilted my head at her from my seated position on the cover of the book.
“I'm a guy, and you talk to me just fine.”
“Yeah, but you don't count. You're...”
I frowned. Did I not count because of my size? How small does a male need to be to no longer count as a man? It was a bit disconcerting, really.
“An ant?”
“... Yeah.”
The answer was hesitant, as if Sarah wasn't so sure that was the right response anymore. With a sigh, I hefted myself to my feet and brushed off my pants.
“Take me back to the farm.”
* * *
“Lassic, bud, wake up.”
I shifted in my sleep, swatting at the intruder who'd come into my “home.”
“Go'way, Thom.”
Thom frowned, and jostled me some more. With irritation I rolled to a seated position, rubbing my eyes.
“The twins are waiting for you on the surface.”
The twins again. They were always trying to hatch some sort of escape plan. I'd long since stopped bothering to tell them that there's no real point in escaping; it's a large world for someone our size. As much as it pained me to say, we were at the mercy of those two women, and safest inside our ant farm.
After stopping by the lavatory chamber, I hefted myself to the surface by rope to meet the twins, Larry and Angela. Unlike the dozens of other people in this godforsaken cage, they'd taken interest in me when Sarah started taking me outside of it for visits. They looked like excavators, carrying packs and helmets, goggles and rope. Who knew where Claire had gotten these things to drop into our farm, but they were somewhat useful nevertheless. For digging, anyway.
“Look, I keep telling you guys, I can't get you out.”
Angela stomped up to me, yanking on my messenger bag which still held my work material from when I'd been taken.
“Don't you want to get back to your little modeling life?”
“I was a journalist,” I said, pulling my bag from her grasp. “Not one of the models.”
“Whatever.”
Yes, “was.” I'd finally come to terms with the fact I may never leave here. Angela and I didn't even necessarily get along. Thom stood leaning against the glass wall, conversing with Larry out of earshot. There went my hope of rescue. My blue eyes tracked back to Angela's honey ones. I wouldn't be surprised if she jumped me the next time Sarah lowered the thread into the farm.
Fortunately, it was several days until Sarah would do just that. Perhaps she felt bad about what she said. It was doubtful, but the way our last conversation had ended in a sour note, it wasn't impossible. Taking a glance around to see if the twins were around, I made a break for the thread, latching on in time to see Angela charging full speed after me, Larry not far behind her, shouting at her to slow down, it was too late. And it was too late, for the thread had lifted me dozens of feet (centimeters?) from the ground by the time the girl reached my position.
“Why don't you ever go out?”
The conversation tonight had taken many twists and turns, but I turned it towards her again. I didn't have much left to tell about myself. Sarah shifted uncomfortably at the question. From what I could tell, she hardly left the dorm unless she needed to, for school, or some shopping, little things.
“I just don't like to. I prefer to just hold down the fort. Keep an eye on the ant farm, make sure my homework is done, keep an eye on my FaceBook.”
I suppose there were those types too. Having a seat on the desktop, I leaned my back against a coffee mug. It had been so long since I'd tasted coffee. I lost track of the days long ago.
“... why is she doing this? Claire. Why does she keep us like this?”
It was a question I'd asked during one of my first meetings with Sarah, and one I'd asked among the others. But I'd never gotten an answer. Maybe, just maybe, I'd be rewarded with one. Sarah tapped her yellow polished nails on the desk, deciding whether or not she should answer me. After a few long moments, she spoke once more.
“An experiment. Claire has always been a spoiled child, and always got her way. Her parents couldn't use magic, and she would threaten to turn them into mice if she didn't get her way. She already had a handful of people in that farm when we started rooming together in freshman year.” I listened intently, leaning forward and studying the female's face. “She started collecting at first because she just could. To see if she could take care of people like pets. It turned out they needed to be the size of bugs to be manageable. Humans are resourceful creatures.
“After a while, she started collecting people, like someone would collect dolls. I still haven't figured out how she chooses, everyone is so different and none of them have a thing in common. But I've never said anything to anyone; I'm afraid she might put me in that farm.”
I chewed my lip, trying to think of a response. In the end, the sorceress was little more than a spoiled brat.
“If only I knew another sorcerer,” I said, “we could do something about her.”
“She's not all bad, really.”
I raised a brow skeptically.
“Neither are skunks, yet no one likes those either.”
We shared a laugh. Talking to Sarah had become so easy, like it had been when I was with Sam. I missed Sam, yes, but I'd come to terms with the fact I'd never be able to be with her again. My world consisted of two big women and a community of people bound to a glass prison filled with sand.
My next few meetings with Sarah started taking a turn to nearly always about Claire. What we should do. She certainly needed to be taught a lesson. But how? It was Sarah who came up with the idea of mirrors.
“They use mirrors in magic shows,” she reasoned, “So why not use them against real magic?”
I was skeptical about magic reflecting off mirrors. And frankly, I didn't want to test it. Naturally, it wouldn't be long until we would have to.
* * *
“What are you doing?”
“Um, studying?”
“Spells?”
Claire took the book from Sarah's hands and presented the cover. It was one of her spellbooks. Claire had most of the spells memorized and didn't need the book, and Sarah could do little with it without Claire's magic ink, but still, Claire didn't like Sarah messing with her stuff. She'd never touched it before, why do it now?
“Have you been talking with those bugs? You know you shouldn't do that; they'll fill your head with frivolous nonsense.”
Sarah frowned, making grabby hands for the book.
“I'm just interested in it, okay?”
Claire kept the book just out of reach with a smirk.
“Muggles should just stay in their place.”
Sarah scowled at the term. Claire had plucked it from a book she'd read, and liked to use the term on normal people. That book was comprised of fantasy, while this world was very much real.
“Bubble bubble, toil and trouble, cauldron boil and cauldron bubble.” The brunette wiggled her fingers at her roommate.
“Are you supposed to be mocking me?”
“Yes.”
“You're not very good at it.”
Sarah merely responded by sticking her tongue out at the green-eyed witch. Soon. Very soon. Claire was getting suspicious. Sarah wasn't very good at this whole “secret” thing, either. Oh well. It would all work out in the end, wouldn't it? It had to. Because Sarah was falling in love with one of Claire's experiments.
* * *
“Angela I swear to god if you don't let me go.”
The crazy ex-barista held me hostage inside an unoccupied chamber. I had half a mind to bring the ceiling down on her and tunnel my way out. But she could dig faster than I could. More than ever she'd been harassing and interrogating me. She asked me so many questions about the mousy-haired girl with the purple plastic glasses, I swore I knew Sarah better than the woman knew herself by all the answers I gave. What the hell her problem was with me and that girl, I would never know. Larry would always laugh and say how obvious it was when I would ask, but would never tell me. So I would shrug my shoulders and leave.
“Make me.”
“You defiant little...”
“Little what, Lassic?”
“Gnat.”
Angela hated being called a bug of any kind for any reason. It was a button I liked to press. So when she charged to tackle me, I easily sidestepped and stuck my leg out, causing her to faceplant into the large grains of sand. By the time she gained her bearings and got back to her feet, I was already gone and climbing myself the hell away from that chamber. Crazy women in here, there were. I felt more comfortable talking to Sarah. I looked forward to my meetings with the woman.
It was around this time that our world turned upside-down.
* * *
“What did you do!?”
“It was an accident!”
Sarah stumbled away from the desk where she'd fallen into it, knocking over the ant farm. The top popped off, and sand spilled onto the desktop, many tiny people spilling out along with it. There was a widespread panic among the little ones, and it did nothing but infuriate the witch in the room. Her fingers sparked with a green glow, a sign that she was thiiiis close to hitting something with a spell.
Crawling out of the dirt with a cough, I caught the procession in time to yell Sarah's name. She ducked just in time to avoid being hit by a green flash of light, which hit the desk lamp. The bulb shattered and the lamp itself was blown back. I twisted to avoid the glass shards, dragging myself to my feet and dashing across the surface. If it wasn't one thing, it was another, and I wasn't in the mood to be caught by Angela again.
“The mirror, find the mirror!”
Sarah scrambled. Where was the mirror, where was the mirror. Oh, there! Diving on Claire's bed, she grabbed the hand mirror in time to deflect a spell, ricocheting it into the ceiling and causing a burn mark. Well, at least that worked. But it was a dangerous game of magical ping-pong, and little miss witchy temper tantrum was getting more irritated as the game wore on.
“What have I told you about messing with my stuff, Sarah!”
“Stop making such a fuss, Claire!”
Another spell ricocheted. The bedframe shrunk to the size of a cat bed. A shrinking spell this time. At least Sarah was good at ping-pong. When another spell came again, Sarah swung the hand mirror, and the spell bounce back, this time hitting Claire. With a shriek, Claire jerked backward. Sarah smirked, lowering the mirror. 'That's what you get for throwing a temper tantrum.'
I watched with amusement when Sarah trotted over to Claire, whom had shrunk down to my size, and plucked her from the carpet, screaming and kicking. Dumping out the jewelry tray on top of the dresser, Sarah put Claire down, turning the dish upside-down on top of the ant-sized sorceress and returning to the scene of the crime, the spilled ant farm.
Many of my bretheren had been cheering during the fight. A handful had returned to the farm (some of them genuinely did not want to leave, like Thom). With a victory stance, Sarah dove for Claire's spellbook, licking a finger and tearing through the pages to find the right spell. Grinning wildly when she found it, Sarah found the spell she was looking for. Grabbing her art history notebook, a quill, and the magic ink, she drew a circle on a lined page and returned to the dresser. Claire was enraged, but before the magic could even leave her fingertips, he found herself plucked up and placed in the middle of the circle. It prevented her from using her magic.
I watched with great amusement at the entire procession. Sarah and I had been planning this a hundred different ways over the last few weeks. It was nearly a heart attack when it occurred. Angela and Larry both gripped me tightly in cheer, with Thom smiling from the safety of his ant farm. The remainders would have a lot of rebuilding to do. Shoving off my friends, for now I'd decided to call them that, I fell to a sit on the table, leaning on stray grains of sand.
* * *
Needless to say, when Claire found herself living inside the ruined ant farm, she didn't like the idea of her “experiment” any more. I smirked from my seated position in the chair, looming over the place that was once my prison. Having all the time in the world, Sarah found the spell that reversed the shrinking, and had written until she ran out of ink. News of the sorceress Claire had spread like wildfire when the captives had finally been released to live their lives. Sarah came up next to me, head on my shoulder, overlooking the small figure inside the farm.
“It's not so nice being an ant, now is it?”
She had to be the most beautiful woman I'd ever seen. Long raven hair, ruby lips, emerald eyes. Even in a simple tee and cutoff jeans, she looked like a goddess. That had been, perhaps, when I got put under her bewitching spell. The moment we made eye contact, she smiled, eying the messenger bag at my hip, camera around my neck, and penpad in hand. That smile lured me right to her.
“Hello, miss!” I said, jogging up to where she stood. The people around her parted and blurred into the background; it seemed as if she and I were the only ones on the city block. “The name's Lassic. Lassic Conner. I'm a journalist for a magazine, Kittywalk Fashions. I'm scouting for volunteer amateur models.”
The woman's bright green eyes seemed to look me over. When she deemed me worthy for an answer, she tilted her head and offered an awkward wave.
“Hi, I'm Claire.”
“Well, Claire, would you be interested in doing an interview with me and modeling a few outfits? It'll only take an hour of your time and you get to keep the clothes!”
At the promise of new clothes, Claire's interest sparked.
“Sure... but I'm not very good in photos.”
“It's okay!” I grinned at her, scratching down her name on the notepad. “Just act natural.”
Naturally, I didn't understand how serious she would take “act natural.” No one noticed anything until the cameras started flashing at the outdoor photo shoot I took her to. It was normal for the flashes to leave afterimages in your eyes, but the afterimages never faded; if anything, they grew so bad we were all but blinded. It wasn't until the next day I awoke, and even longer still to realize what happened.
“Hey, you alright, bud?”
I groaned, eyes opening to the blinding light. Putting an arm over my face, I shoved myself to a sitting position, and blinked at my new companion once my eyes adjusted. Green hues continued to tint the edges of my vision.
“Wha... what happened?”
I let him pull me to my feet, and shifted unsteadily on the rocks I was standing on. He merely shook his head, and looked around at the other people here. Some looked like they'd been here for a long time, without bath or proper meals. Some looked scared and confused, some kept their mind on their work. Most of the people were moving around the rocks which seemed to be the whole of the landscape. Crouching, I examined the rocks more closely. By far, they were the most beautiful I'd ever seen, in such a variety of colors. Tans, browns, whites, some were even somewhat transparent and cloudy.
Brushing the dust from my hands, I took a good hard look at my surroundings. The strange rocks, the people. After a moment it hit me that it was dark and light all at once. The light was artificial, but when I looked up, all I saw was darkness. Then, it occurred to me. There were tall, thin walls extending upward on either side, forming a long hall. There were tunnels, from what I could tell, for people were entering and exiting from the ground. The more I learned, the more confused I became. It wasn't until the next day I learned what was really going on, and that brings us up to speed.
Ants. That's what we were. Nothing more than insignificant ants. It took seeing a pair of impossibly large green eyes through the wall of my new prison to learn that. A moment of staring at the eyes led me to realize that who I was looking at was Claire. After gaping at how large she had become, it was then when I had realized it was not her that had become giant, but myself, and those around me, that had become small. Impossibly small. It was not a prison we were in, with a strange rocky landscape, but merely an ant farm, filled with damp sand. Although, as far as I was concerned, it was a prison.
* * *
“Claaaaiiire. I told you you need to stop doing that. You're going to get in trouble.”
“Please. Like I can't charm them into forgetting once I decide to free them. Like an all-expenses-paid trip to Hawaii for these guys.” She tapped the glass, knocking a few people on their asses. “They're just little bugs, Sarah, I've been telling you that.”
Sarah looked at her roommate disapprovingly. When she first found out Claire was a magic user, a sorceress, it had been fantastic. But now, it had become an annoyance. Sure, changing the color of your blouse to match your shoes was fun, but Claire would bring people home to put in her ant farm like pets. Sure, she could get away with it. Magicians were so uncommon that it was easier to believe they'd been abducted by aliens than spirited away.
When Claire left, Sarah sat down on the stool next to the desk that held the ant farm. Claire would be out the rest of the night, doing who-knew-what with others like her. Sarah never asked. Resting her elbow on the desktop, she put her head in her hand and stared absently at the tiny people in the tank. Some of them had been there for as long as she could remember. Claire would find people without homes or people to care for them as permanent residents of her pet collection. It always made Sarah think of Polly Pocket from when she was little, the micro-sized doll with little accessories; the entire dollhouse could fit in the pocket. Back then, anyway.
These people had micro-sized tools and clothes, even some of their own animals, all shrunk down to ant-sized. It was like its own ecosystem. Despite the verbal protests, Sarah would pass time watching the little people work; carving out tunnels and building little home units. Some people looked happy. Some looked desperate to survive. They did get fed; it wasn't as if survival was hard. Folding her arms, Sarah rest her head on them on the desk, eye-level with the sand behind the glass. As she watched, she could see one tiny person pressing up against the glass, and she moved her face closer, pushing her glasses to the tip of her nose to identify it as male.
He waved his arms frantically at her. She frowned slightly. He had coppery-brown hair, and appeared to be in his late twenties, not much older than herself. Tapping uneven painted fingernails against the surface of the desk, she watched him for a period of time. Sarah had never really taken an interest in Claire's collection, beyond scolding her for collecting in the first place. Perhaps she should take part. At the end of the day, they were human, just like her.
Looking around the room, Sarah started digging through drawers. Most of the people in there didn't notice they were in an ant farm. Not so soon, anyway. They fight among each other, scared. Wondering where they are. Who those other people are. How they got there. Why they were there. But this guy was pounding against the glass, trying to garner the attention of the girl on the other side. Finding what she was looking for, a sewing kit, Sara smiled and began unspooling some green thread. It could be her little secret, playing with Claire's pet farm. Rather morbid, really, when she stopped to think about it.
Moving back to the glass, Sarah gently poked where the tiny male stood, then gestured for him to go to the end of the tank. The food holes were there. Popping open the latch, Sarah lowered the thread to the man in the tank.
* * *
“Oh thank god.”
I was overjoyed. I'd been noticed. I'd been acknowledged. No one else had paid attention to the two females on the other side of the glass, but they were all I watched. However when asked about what I was doing, my replies produced less desirable results. Rather than ignoring the girls on the other side of the glass, they seemed to fear them. Quite understandable, really, given the circumstances, but to be downright ashamed? I work in fashion, I know how to read expressions. I guess I just hadn't been there long enough to know why.
For now, I would dismiss that fact. It could be found out later. My focus was instead on the rope that was being lowered. The others ignored it, even shied away from it. But not me. I ran headlong, tripping now and then on the loose grains of sand. Finally reaching it, I grabbed hold with all of my might, and felt my feet leave the ground.
When my head came free of the ant farm, my heart all but stopped. Inside of the farm, many of the things there were shrunk down to a comfortable size. But this room was massive, as if I was on the set of Honey, I Shrunk the Kids. I clung to my thread-rope even tighter. An edge of panic filled me as I soared across the desktop, hanging literally by a thread, and landed rather ungracefully on the surface.
Every instinct told me to run, get out of here, escape. But it was my logic that kept me rooted. What could a man half-an-inch tall accomplish? I'd more likely be eaten or stepped on before I got to anyone that could help me. Even then, the only one that could help me was a sorcerer, and to date, I've only met one. So for now, I looked up, staring at the large murky-blue eyes hidden behind purple plastic glasses frames.
In return, Sarah looked down upon the small man. Unlike her roommate, Sarah couldn't perform magic. It was a rare genetic mutation, not even hereditary. It was a one-in-a-million chance to be born with it, and Sarah was not so lucky. It did not stop her from longing. Setting down the thread, she looked for a magnifying glass. Locating it in a drawer, she set the flat edge on the desk, and looked at her new source of entertainment, me.
He seemed as if he had been well-off when Claire found him. He was dressed well, and carried a bag with him. Perhaps a college student or something? She couldn't be sure. Sarah gently poked the tiny man, and inadvertently knocked me onto my ass as a result. My angry reaction earned a smile, and if anything, that pissed me off even more.
“So who are you supposed to be, little flea?”
I growled at the insult. It wasn't as if I chose to be so fricken' tiny.
“Lassic Conner. I work for Kittywalk Fashions. You've heard of it, haven't you?”
“Mm-hmmm.”
“So you see, it's important that I get back there as soon as possible.”
“Sorry to burst your bubble, sweetheart, but I doubt you'll be back any time soon.”
Sarah watched with interest as I cursed, kicking her finger in anger. She barely felt it. She watched me a moment longer. 'This Lassic was kind of cute, in his own right,' Sarah thought to herself. Sarah had trouble talking to boys, but it seemed when they were the size of an ant, she had no trouble at all. It just figured, didn't it?
A noise outside the room caught Sarah's attention. With a curse, she scooped me into her hand with an index card and sat on her bed, looking rather nonchalant when Claire entered the room. I clung tightly to the inside of her hand, holding my footing in the creases of her palm. Peeking through a gap in her fingers, I watched that witch enter the room.
“Did you forget something, Claire?”
Claire eyed her roommate. Her emotions were always plain on her face. She did something she wanted to hide. Probably got into the ink used for writing spells again. It was imbued with Claire's own magic; it was quite possibly the only way a non-sorcerer could utilize magic. Of course, that was under the pretense that they knew any spells, and Sarah was pitiful at poetry. Moving to her side of the room, Claire plucked a green blazer from her chair.
“Yeah, just this. Don't forget to feed the ants, Sarah.”
Sarah nodded, hands clasped in her lap. She let out a breath of relief when the sorceress left, and opened her hands. I looked around at the room from the palm of the girl holding me. Was this girl an enemy or ally? I couldn't be sure. But a glance at the ant farm revealed a mass of people watching from the side. Apparently this wasn't something that occurred often. I felt slightly smug, compared to the people in the farm. But that feeling just as quickly ebbed away. What if I was going to be used in some weird science experiment? Suddenly things got that much scarier. Until now, I hadn't fully absorbed the ramifications of the situation.
I clung to the woman's thumb helplessly. I had half a mind to beg her to put me back into the ant farm. Holding her hand up to eye level, Sarah looked at me. She studied my diminutive form a little more, then stood, walking back over to the farm. It seemed that I didn't need to beg, and I grabbed tight to the thread when it was offered, allowing myself to be lowered back into the prison.
Once my feet hit the uneven, rocky terrain of sand, I ran. There was nowhere to run, really, but it was the best way to shake my nerves. I liked to run. So I ran. Unfortunately, I wasn't able to see the tunnel until I tripped over it, and I found myself tumbling downwards into a curving hole. Instinctively I covered my head and curled up, waiting for my body to stop moving. When I did stop falling, I flopped my limps outward, staring blankly upward at the sandy ceiling. It was fascinating, really, that it didn't hurt nearly as much as it should of. Perhaps the old saying “the bigger you are, the harder you fall” had meaning after all.
“Well, this sucks.”
* * *
A week passed before I spoke to Sarah again. Sure, I'd seen her now and again, looking through the clear plastic walls at us. Overhearing the girls talk about us taught me why the others felt shame. Claire more than Sarah, they thought us weak. Small and insignificant, our meager existences were meaningless. Even me, a rather headstrong individual, lost the will to fight. Those girls were right, we were insignificant. Weak. Powerless. In my entire life, I'd never felt so helpless. And that was only the first week.
Naturally, I didn't let that show when I felt those massive eyes overshadowing me as I worked, helping move around the sand. Everyone needed to dig out their own cavity to sleep in. I would remain a defiant bastard for as long as I needed to towards these women. I wasn't broken, just bent.
Sitting in my cavity cross-legged, I frowned, one hand on my knee and the other scraping sand away from the wall. Wet sand was dirty and that made it a bit difficult to see through the plastic, but I managed, and would watch the girls. They paid us no mind, especially Claire, and it was a free show every time they got dressed. Not like there was anything else to do here, anyway.
I missed Sam. I didn't tell you much about Sam, did I? Short and choppy dishwater blonde with hazel eyes, we'd been dating since high school. She was everything in a girl a man could want. I loved her. So much. She'd been away on work-related business. She was supposed to come home this week. How will she feel, I wondered, to learn that good ol' Lassic's been MIA for the last eight days? Even if I managed to escape here, what could she do with a man less than an inch tall? Assuming I didn't get stepped on before getting to her. Who knew how long that witch would keep me here, and I was helpless to do anything but wait out my sentence in this cage. It made my heart ache.
That was why I couldn't give up. I had to persevere. I had to keep trying. And I had to keep trying to draw attention to myself. Somehow, I needed to earn the favor of these women.
* * *
“Look at him, he's so cute.”
“Mmm-hhhmmm.”
Sarah looked on absently as Claire poked at the farm. The new arrival tried way too hard. Every time someone sat down to observe or feed them, he'd press up against the side, banging his tiny little fists. Claire smirked at his futile efforts.
“Eventually the little insect will learn his place.”
Sarah swore she could see the frown on the male's expression. He had a lot of spunk. The girl would give him that. Brushing her mousy hair behind her shoulder, Sarah watched Claire grab her purse.
“Sure you don't want to come?”
“Short on cash this week.”
“You know I can—”
“You know how I feel about that, Claire. It's still stealing.”
The raven-haired girl shrugged her shoulders.
“To each her own.”
When Claire left, Sarah dug for the sewing kit again, withdrawing a red thread this time.
* * *
Part of me considered ignoring her. But a larger part of me wanted to escape. So when the red thread was lowered, I dashed towards it and grabbed hold. It was a game of cat and mouse, but I was more than willing to play.
“So to what do I owe the pleasure of this visit, Sarah?”
There was no answer as I was lowered down to the desktop. I dropped to a cross-legged sit, right hand never releasing the thread. I watched the girl purse her lips at me. Frankly, she made me miss Sam all the more. Idly, I wondered if I'd ever see her again. Sam always gave me that look when I came home late from work. 'You should have called,' she'd say.
“Looking for someone to talk to.”
This time it was my time to purse my lips. Why not talk to Claire, or to someone who doesn't hate her? But I lacked in much choice. She could easily crush me with her pinky finger alone. It was a trust exercise I was forced to participate in.
“What's your favorite food?”
“...Eh? Oh, um...” I blinked at the random question. “Chicken?”
I watched the girl nod, and tilted my head.
“Yours?”
“Twizzlers.”
…Did candy count as a favorite food? I wouldn't argue. It wouldn't hurt to have someone to talk to, I supposed. The others in the farm didn't make for good conversation. Though that could also have been because I didn't want to be friendly with any of them. I didn't want to feel like I was starting to fit in. To belong mixed in with them. Like it or not, I belonged to the world Sarah and Claire lived in, and that was the world I needed to be interacting with.
Our random conversation continued on for a few hours; I even got some chicken. Watching her scribe with a quill pen and the plate shrinking to a comfortable size was more than fascinating. But she insisted to me she was not a sorceress, merely using the magic ink. I was skeptical, but I chose to believe her. For now. I didn't know much about sorcery as it was. If I had any hope of escape, I needed to befriend the enemy.
I met with Sarah many more times. She'd share stories of boys and dogs and colors; girlish things that I had little particular interest in. That was until she started on the topic of clothes. It was that one common interest that hit us off, and it turned to me looking forward to talking with Sarah. Some days she couldn't talk at all, some days she had all the time in the world. But on all accounts, it was when Claire was not home. On one such occasion, however, we ran into... difficulties.
“Sarah, do you want to go out tonight?”
Sarah jarred to a full stop, having introduced me to the new additions in her closet. I'd helped her coordinate more than one outfit on occasion (I do work at a fashion magazine, after all), and now was one of those times. I found myself literally thrown into a pit of darkness, and tumbled into a pile of unfolded undergarments. Shaking the stars from my eyes, I began to crawl through the sea of cotton threads and lace to the light that came from the crack.
“Out where?”
Claire raised a brow at her roommate, who seemed startled when she walked in. Sure, Claire had come home early, but...
“Have you been playing with that Lassic again?”
“Psh, no. No way.”
Oh, that was convincing. Claire gave a half-smirk. Sarah had never really shown an interest in her little insect collection until now. Well, when she'd first seen it, yeah, but the excitement had worn off over time. It was cute, how her roomie was showing interest again. For now, Claire would allow it. She didn't pay much attention to the people in the farm, anyway. As long as they were all there.
Sarah stood, a little stiff, and turned toward her closet, looking at her clothes to decide what to wear. She'd reorganized a lot thanks to my intervention, and selected a cute yellow ruffle top with faded denim capris.
“Where are we going?”
“To meet some boys. You need to get out of the dorms sometimes, Sarah.”
There was a groan. “But if I left, who would take care of your bugs?”
“They're bugs. They can watch themselves for a few hours.”
Ugh, that helpless feeling again. I was still crossing the field of panties, and by the time I reached the front of the drawer, I could hear the door open and the girls exit. 'You didn't have to leave me in here,' I thought to myself. I longed for Sam again. The news station had noticed my absence by now. “Serial Killer” they said. I wasn't the first person to go missing, clearly, and they assumed it was either one person or one group committing the same crimes. Well, they weren't wrong, but the mysterious vanishings weren't caused by a group of serial killers, but instead by a female college student.
With a sigh, I dug my fingers into the wood grain and slowly climbed my way out of the drawer. What I wouldn't give for a proper shower. Reaching the top, I seated myself at the edge of the the drawer, allowing my legs to dangle, and stared outward to the desk that held the ant farm. I could see movement, all the dozens of other people that had been taken. I had not made a single friend within the glass prison. But there were a few people I could work together with. Larry, Angela, and Thom, to name a few.
Larry and Angela were siblings. They used to work together at a coffee shop before they came here. Thom was a homeless veteran, getting on in his years. Frankly, Thom was happy to live there, provided with warm shelter, meals, and company. It wasn't a luxurious life, but compared to the streets of Manhattan, it was home.
I rest my elbows on my knees. Frankly, I doubted I'd be able to get down without killing myself. The outside world thought I was dead. I lived in an ant farm, governed by two girls, whom acted as our gods, whom constantly berated us and referred to us as “bugs” or “insects” or “ants.” Sarah showed kindness to me, yes, but only to me, and only sometimes at that. Clearly, I had time to rethink my life.
I had been here at least three months. Dead to the outside world, no doubt Sam had started moving on. She was a pretty and smart girl. I let out a loud sigh, sweeping the room. Even if I could somehow make it to the desk, I wouldn't be able to climb back into the ant farm and retreat to my little cubby. Getting to my feet, I balanced on the edge of the drawer and made my away around the perimeter, climbing onto the top of the dresser. It was fascinating, really. All the things I'd never given much thought to before were very real now. Dust was big enough to trip over. Rings were the size of splash pools. I could go lancing with earrings. Making my way to the jewelry box, I climbed inside a dish, finding a comfortable niche against a round hoop earring and relaxing to await Sarah's return.
* * *
It was dark when the door opened. I shook my sleepy head—when had I fallen asleep?—and watched the women come back into the dorm. I sat up, watching with mild interest as they removed their coats, Claire further disrobing for her night clothes. Watching the raven-headed girl distracted me from noticing Sarah, whom had sauntered her way over to the dresser, probably looking for me in the drawer.
Easily overlooked, I hefted a ball stud earring from under my legs and tossed it out onto the dresser top to bring her attention to me. Once eye contact was made, she gave a half-smile and went back about her business, likely waiting for Claire to sleep. Once the sorceress was asleep (after a good deal of time talking about the night), Sarah came back for me under the pretense of staying awake to read a book for some assignment in her Women's Rights class.
“So how was your night?”
Sarah sighed.
“Miserable. Claire always tries setting me up with boys, but it never works out. I can never talk to them.”
I tilted my head at her from my seated position on the cover of the book.
“I'm a guy, and you talk to me just fine.”
“Yeah, but you don't count. You're...”
I frowned. Did I not count because of my size? How small does a male need to be to no longer count as a man? It was a bit disconcerting, really.
“An ant?”
“... Yeah.”
The answer was hesitant, as if Sarah wasn't so sure that was the right response anymore. With a sigh, I hefted myself to my feet and brushed off my pants.
“Take me back to the farm.”
* * *
“Lassic, bud, wake up.”
I shifted in my sleep, swatting at the intruder who'd come into my “home.”
“Go'way, Thom.”
Thom frowned, and jostled me some more. With irritation I rolled to a seated position, rubbing my eyes.
“The twins are waiting for you on the surface.”
The twins again. They were always trying to hatch some sort of escape plan. I'd long since stopped bothering to tell them that there's no real point in escaping; it's a large world for someone our size. As much as it pained me to say, we were at the mercy of those two women, and safest inside our ant farm.
After stopping by the lavatory chamber, I hefted myself to the surface by rope to meet the twins, Larry and Angela. Unlike the dozens of other people in this godforsaken cage, they'd taken interest in me when Sarah started taking me outside of it for visits. They looked like excavators, carrying packs and helmets, goggles and rope. Who knew where Claire had gotten these things to drop into our farm, but they were somewhat useful nevertheless. For digging, anyway.
“Look, I keep telling you guys, I can't get you out.”
Angela stomped up to me, yanking on my messenger bag which still held my work material from when I'd been taken.
“Don't you want to get back to your little modeling life?”
“I was a journalist,” I said, pulling my bag from her grasp. “Not one of the models.”
“Whatever.”
Yes, “was.” I'd finally come to terms with the fact I may never leave here. Angela and I didn't even necessarily get along. Thom stood leaning against the glass wall, conversing with Larry out of earshot. There went my hope of rescue. My blue eyes tracked back to Angela's honey ones. I wouldn't be surprised if she jumped me the next time Sarah lowered the thread into the farm.
Fortunately, it was several days until Sarah would do just that. Perhaps she felt bad about what she said. It was doubtful, but the way our last conversation had ended in a sour note, it wasn't impossible. Taking a glance around to see if the twins were around, I made a break for the thread, latching on in time to see Angela charging full speed after me, Larry not far behind her, shouting at her to slow down, it was too late. And it was too late, for the thread had lifted me dozens of feet (centimeters?) from the ground by the time the girl reached my position.
“Why don't you ever go out?”
The conversation tonight had taken many twists and turns, but I turned it towards her again. I didn't have much left to tell about myself. Sarah shifted uncomfortably at the question. From what I could tell, she hardly left the dorm unless she needed to, for school, or some shopping, little things.
“I just don't like to. I prefer to just hold down the fort. Keep an eye on the ant farm, make sure my homework is done, keep an eye on my FaceBook.”
I suppose there were those types too. Having a seat on the desktop, I leaned my back against a coffee mug. It had been so long since I'd tasted coffee. I lost track of the days long ago.
“... why is she doing this? Claire. Why does she keep us like this?”
It was a question I'd asked during one of my first meetings with Sarah, and one I'd asked among the others. But I'd never gotten an answer. Maybe, just maybe, I'd be rewarded with one. Sarah tapped her yellow polished nails on the desk, deciding whether or not she should answer me. After a few long moments, she spoke once more.
“An experiment. Claire has always been a spoiled child, and always got her way. Her parents couldn't use magic, and she would threaten to turn them into mice if she didn't get her way. She already had a handful of people in that farm when we started rooming together in freshman year.” I listened intently, leaning forward and studying the female's face. “She started collecting at first because she just could. To see if she could take care of people like pets. It turned out they needed to be the size of bugs to be manageable. Humans are resourceful creatures.
“After a while, she started collecting people, like someone would collect dolls. I still haven't figured out how she chooses, everyone is so different and none of them have a thing in common. But I've never said anything to anyone; I'm afraid she might put me in that farm.”
I chewed my lip, trying to think of a response. In the end, the sorceress was little more than a spoiled brat.
“If only I knew another sorcerer,” I said, “we could do something about her.”
“She's not all bad, really.”
I raised a brow skeptically.
“Neither are skunks, yet no one likes those either.”
We shared a laugh. Talking to Sarah had become so easy, like it had been when I was with Sam. I missed Sam, yes, but I'd come to terms with the fact I'd never be able to be with her again. My world consisted of two big women and a community of people bound to a glass prison filled with sand.
My next few meetings with Sarah started taking a turn to nearly always about Claire. What we should do. She certainly needed to be taught a lesson. But how? It was Sarah who came up with the idea of mirrors.
“They use mirrors in magic shows,” she reasoned, “So why not use them against real magic?”
I was skeptical about magic reflecting off mirrors. And frankly, I didn't want to test it. Naturally, it wouldn't be long until we would have to.
* * *
“What are you doing?”
“Um, studying?”
“Spells?”
Claire took the book from Sarah's hands and presented the cover. It was one of her spellbooks. Claire had most of the spells memorized and didn't need the book, and Sarah could do little with it without Claire's magic ink, but still, Claire didn't like Sarah messing with her stuff. She'd never touched it before, why do it now?
“Have you been talking with those bugs? You know you shouldn't do that; they'll fill your head with frivolous nonsense.”
Sarah frowned, making grabby hands for the book.
“I'm just interested in it, okay?”
Claire kept the book just out of reach with a smirk.
“Muggles should just stay in their place.”
Sarah scowled at the term. Claire had plucked it from a book she'd read, and liked to use the term on normal people. That book was comprised of fantasy, while this world was very much real.
“Bubble bubble, toil and trouble, cauldron boil and cauldron bubble.” The brunette wiggled her fingers at her roommate.
“Are you supposed to be mocking me?”
“Yes.”
“You're not very good at it.”
Sarah merely responded by sticking her tongue out at the green-eyed witch. Soon. Very soon. Claire was getting suspicious. Sarah wasn't very good at this whole “secret” thing, either. Oh well. It would all work out in the end, wouldn't it? It had to. Because Sarah was falling in love with one of Claire's experiments.
* * *
“Angela I swear to god if you don't let me go.”
The crazy ex-barista held me hostage inside an unoccupied chamber. I had half a mind to bring the ceiling down on her and tunnel my way out. But she could dig faster than I could. More than ever she'd been harassing and interrogating me. She asked me so many questions about the mousy-haired girl with the purple plastic glasses, I swore I knew Sarah better than the woman knew herself by all the answers I gave. What the hell her problem was with me and that girl, I would never know. Larry would always laugh and say how obvious it was when I would ask, but would never tell me. So I would shrug my shoulders and leave.
“Make me.”
“You defiant little...”
“Little what, Lassic?”
“Gnat.”
Angela hated being called a bug of any kind for any reason. It was a button I liked to press. So when she charged to tackle me, I easily sidestepped and stuck my leg out, causing her to faceplant into the large grains of sand. By the time she gained her bearings and got back to her feet, I was already gone and climbing myself the hell away from that chamber. Crazy women in here, there were. I felt more comfortable talking to Sarah. I looked forward to my meetings with the woman.
It was around this time that our world turned upside-down.
* * *
“What did you do!?”
“It was an accident!”
Sarah stumbled away from the desk where she'd fallen into it, knocking over the ant farm. The top popped off, and sand spilled onto the desktop, many tiny people spilling out along with it. There was a widespread panic among the little ones, and it did nothing but infuriate the witch in the room. Her fingers sparked with a green glow, a sign that she was thiiiis close to hitting something with a spell.
Crawling out of the dirt with a cough, I caught the procession in time to yell Sarah's name. She ducked just in time to avoid being hit by a green flash of light, which hit the desk lamp. The bulb shattered and the lamp itself was blown back. I twisted to avoid the glass shards, dragging myself to my feet and dashing across the surface. If it wasn't one thing, it was another, and I wasn't in the mood to be caught by Angela again.
“The mirror, find the mirror!”
Sarah scrambled. Where was the mirror, where was the mirror. Oh, there! Diving on Claire's bed, she grabbed the hand mirror in time to deflect a spell, ricocheting it into the ceiling and causing a burn mark. Well, at least that worked. But it was a dangerous game of magical ping-pong, and little miss witchy temper tantrum was getting more irritated as the game wore on.
“What have I told you about messing with my stuff, Sarah!”
“Stop making such a fuss, Claire!”
Another spell ricocheted. The bedframe shrunk to the size of a cat bed. A shrinking spell this time. At least Sarah was good at ping-pong. When another spell came again, Sarah swung the hand mirror, and the spell bounce back, this time hitting Claire. With a shriek, Claire jerked backward. Sarah smirked, lowering the mirror. 'That's what you get for throwing a temper tantrum.'
I watched with amusement when Sarah trotted over to Claire, whom had shrunk down to my size, and plucked her from the carpet, screaming and kicking. Dumping out the jewelry tray on top of the dresser, Sarah put Claire down, turning the dish upside-down on top of the ant-sized sorceress and returning to the scene of the crime, the spilled ant farm.
Many of my bretheren had been cheering during the fight. A handful had returned to the farm (some of them genuinely did not want to leave, like Thom). With a victory stance, Sarah dove for Claire's spellbook, licking a finger and tearing through the pages to find the right spell. Grinning wildly when she found it, Sarah found the spell she was looking for. Grabbing her art history notebook, a quill, and the magic ink, she drew a circle on a lined page and returned to the dresser. Claire was enraged, but before the magic could even leave her fingertips, he found herself plucked up and placed in the middle of the circle. It prevented her from using her magic.
I watched with great amusement at the entire procession. Sarah and I had been planning this a hundred different ways over the last few weeks. It was nearly a heart attack when it occurred. Angela and Larry both gripped me tightly in cheer, with Thom smiling from the safety of his ant farm. The remainders would have a lot of rebuilding to do. Shoving off my friends, for now I'd decided to call them that, I fell to a sit on the table, leaning on stray grains of sand.
* * *
Needless to say, when Claire found herself living inside the ruined ant farm, she didn't like the idea of her “experiment” any more. I smirked from my seated position in the chair, looming over the place that was once my prison. Having all the time in the world, Sarah found the spell that reversed the shrinking, and had written until she ran out of ink. News of the sorceress Claire had spread like wildfire when the captives had finally been released to live their lives. Sarah came up next to me, head on my shoulder, overlooking the small figure inside the farm.
“It's not so nice being an ant, now is it?”