It’s time for another short story >:] This one is for Ray, my Round Four HGRP character! If you want to find out more about him or want to know what happens next, then go check out his ref here: https://scratch.mit.edu/projects/545348344! [Enjoy! ^w^ Scroll down to read!] ——————— The first stars twinkled overhead in an indigo sky as a cloaked figure raced through the night. The sound of his paws as they pounded against the gravelly floor of the road barely echoed through the silent town, and the flickering light of the street lamps kept his face hidden in shadow. Ray was /so/ getting in trouble for this. Receiving the typical spanking probably wouldn’t even be the worst of it: he’d be lucky if he didn’t have to skip dinner for the next week. But he had to show them. The bullying was worse than anything his guardians could do to him. You’d think that shoving a bunch of parentless kids in one building would allow them to sort out their differences, to see their own struggles in someone else’s eyes. And you’d be wrong. Because it was torture, and Ray hated it. The figure stopped dead in front of his destination. Once he was sure that no peacekeepers were out on night patrol nearby, a slim front leg reached up to draw back his hood, revealing tufty dark ginger hair that seemed to glow silver under the moonlight, as well as contrasting large blue eyes that darted over the supply stores. A pickaxe that was almost too heavy for him to hold. A large sack to stash the coal. A portable lamp that he held between his teeth as he made for the elevator. It cast a yellow glow on the sooty walls as Ray descended into the mine. . . . “How do I look?” Finch looks up from the flower crown he’s making. It’s only half-done, so his large aqua-coloured eyes widen slightly as he sees I’ve already finished mine. “Like a flower princess,” he says in his soft voice. “Princess Summer...” I say slowly, as if testing out the name. The pleasant scent of the flowers atop my head reaches my nose. I grin, meeting his gaze. “I like it.” Finch glances down at the various plants splayed out in front of him. He looks a bit discouraged. “How did you weave all the stems together so fast? It’s really hard.” “It just takes practice,” I say, giving him a friendly smile. “My moms taught me to make them when I was really small. You’ll be great at it in no time.” I’m glad that this seems to make him feel a bit better. We’ve been each other’s only friend ever since we started school. Finch has an older sister, but she’s not always around to protect him from mean kids. Therefore, I try my best to fill that role in the meantime. I don’t have any siblings, so he’s the closest thing I have to one. We both get picked on sometimes: me, it’s because of my weird orange fur. No one else in District Twelve looks like me, not even my parents. Finch blinks at me gratefully. “Thanks for helping me out, Summer. I’m sure my family will love them. They like flowers too.” “Anytime.” I nudge him happily with my shoulder. “That’s what best friends do.” . . . Ray couldn’t tell how long he’d been chipping away at the rock for. Exhaustion weighed down on his whole body, and sweat dripped down his forehead. Painful blisters had formed on his paw pads as he clutched the pickaxe’s handle. The coal sack was starting to feel bottomless, as if it would never fill itself up. Moths fluttered around the lamp, their shadows cast on the walls of the mine. Occasionally a thin stream of ash would drop from the ceiling, as if to remind Ray that there had been accidents here before. People had died when parts of these tunnels collapsed. It was at that moment that the lamp’s light flickered. For barely a second, all Ray could see was darkness. His heart pounded in his chest as he stared at the lamp, willing it to not let him down. Fear was creeping up his spine and making his blood run cold. It flickered again. And then it went out. . . . It’s all gone. The family photo. My old diary. Everything I brought to the orphanage with me, the day I went home from school alone for the first time. The day the peacekeepers were standing in front of my house. The day they grabbed me and took me away and didn’t explain why. I’ve burned it all. They say she’s crazy. They say she’s one of those who never get over it. They say that those ones will never be the same again. Don’t talk to Summer Leonova, because she’ll scream at you. Don’t touch Summer Leonova, because she’ll hit you. Just leave her alone. The reflection that stares back at me from the mirror feels shattered, even though the glass is intact. She doesn’t blink as my paw clasps around the pair of scissors and I hold it up to her face. Snip. Snip. Snip. Strand after strand of dark ginger hair falls to the floor. Don’t call me Summer Leonova, because she’s gone. . . .
Thumbnail art by me! All appearing characters belong to me! Content Warning: Implied transphobia, physical and verbal abuse, and toxic influences :,) [Scroll down for Part 2!] ——————— Pitch black. It was pressing in on Ray from all sides like walls. He was blind down here, and he knew he wouldn’t be able to find the exit until the next morning. Ray didn’t dare move. He didn’t make a sound. The noise of falling ash and creaking wooden beams reached his ears. He was shivering in terror. He fumbled around in the dark for the cloak. When his claws grasped it, he drew it over his shoulders and head in a feeble effort to comfort himself. Part of him wanted to sit down in immobile silence and stay like that until someone found him the next day. But he knew, deep down, that there was nothing scary hiding in the blackness. The mine was the same, whether it was lit up or not. He had to be brave. He had to finish the job. So he found the pickaxe, picked it up, and slammed the sharp end into the rock wall as hard as he could. . . . “Get a load of this, guys! Wittle baby Ray’s gonna cry!” It’s a bit hard not to, because I’ve just been punched in the gut several times and now I’m sprawled on the floor, struggling to get up. I glare up at him, my scruffy hair almost covering my eyes. I tell him to go do something quite offensive. All his stupid friends call him Ace. He’s been living here in the orphanage for longer than any of us. His parents died when he was too young to remember them, so now he spends all his time being cruel to those who do. “Ooh, how scary,” says Ace. He grins at me, revealing all his crooked teeth. “Remind me what your parents did for a living? Sell flowers? Pfft, pathetic. No wonder they never made any money.” It’s like every word he says makes me hate him more. “I bet they’d be counting on you to keep up the family business,” he snickers. “I can already imagine you spending your days making flower crowns instead of getting your dainty little paws dirty like the rest of us. You’ll never hold a pickaxe in your whole life.” I’m the only one who doesn’t laugh. I stare straight into his dull yellow eyes, and I break off into an almost mean grin to rival his. “Honestly, with a face like that, I wouldn’t be surprised if you’re here because your parents abandoned you.” Silence descends over all of us. The dumbstruck expression on his face encourages me to continue. “What? First time being insulted?” I pull a mock-pitying face that I know from experience can be very annoying. “Now you know how it feels, huh? You might think everyone’s scared of you, but I’m not.” Ace gestures for the two cats holding me back to let go, and I pull myself back to my feet on shaky legs. With surprising speed for someone so big, he grabs me by the throat and easily lifts me into the air. I try to kick out at him, but my back claws only scrape feebly against his fur. He squeezes tighter, and I gasp for breath. “You’ll regret that, kid,” he murmurs, his terrible breath billowing in my face. He digs his claws into my neck, as if he’s trying to snap it. “Mark my words, you /will/ be scared, when you realize that your sad and lonely life is all you’ll ever know.” And he slams my head into the wall. . . . Ray woke with a start, his head throbbing. It had thumped against the rock wall when he’d fallen asleep without realizing. Dawn light filtered faintly into the cavernous mine, and he blinked sluggishly, his gaze trailing towards the sack. In the dim glow, he saw that he’d practically managed to fill it. The sun was just rising when he emerged from the tunnel, carrying the supplies on aching legs. He breathed out a sigh of relief when he deposited the pickaxe and the broken lamp, and he slung the heavy sack over his shoulders as he made his way back to the orphanage. He clambered through the open window to the boys’ dormitory, and instantly several faces turned to him. “What you got there?” Ace asked, looking at him almost curiously. His gaze travelled towards the sack Ray was carrying as he strolled over to him. Ray dropped it on the hardwood floor, and several pieces of coal spilled out. “Proof for you,” he said, giving him a smug smirk and letting his gaze travel around the room. “I did it. I went to the mine. Before /any of you/.” Ace raised an eyebrow, but there was a hint of satisfaction in his eyes as he spoke. “You always were an idiot, Ray,” he chuckled. “But a brave one. That took guts. I guess I was wrong about you.” He gave him a pat on the back. Somehow, to finally be accepted was all the approval Ray ever needed. “I guess you were,” Ray said with a smirk. He picked up one piece of coal and flung it into the fireplace, making the flames burn a little brighter. . . . Traitors. Every last one of them.
