Four Brothers
Oct. 3rd, 2008 02:44 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
veiledndarknessTitle: CinderJack
Author: veiledndarkness
Pairing: None really.
Rating: PG-13
Summary: Bobby's fairytales are more interesting.
Disclaimer: Not mine, no profit made, no harm intended.
1 – Little Red Riding Hood
2 - Cinderella
XX
"Please...?"
Bobby turned the pages back to the table of contents. "Alright, fine, one more story, but then its bedtime, no ifs ands or butts about it."
Jack nodded eagerly and leaned forward again. "Promise," he said. He pointed to another title. "I want Cinderella this time."
"Figures," Bobby snorted. He ignored Jack's pointy elbow jabbing his side again.
"Why'd you say the stories are messed up?"
Bobby flipped to the front page of the new story. "Because they are, or they were. The Grimm brothers wrote down stories, but these are different. They changed a lotta shit to water it down for little fairy boys. Wouldn't make them much money if they scared the snot outta you, now would they?"
Jack chewed on his thumb nail, nodding. "The first one wasn't too scary."
"You should see what they originally wrote," Bobby muttered. He pointed to the title. "So this one is Cinderella or as I call it, CinderJack."
"Bobby..."
'Once upon a time, probably a long time ago, there was a young boy by the name of Jack. He was brought to a home after the death of his parents. He was handed over abruptly to a woman who would be his foster mother. She acted proper and nice to her own spoiled brats, two nasty little girls. But Jack could tell she was only faking it when she was nice to him in front of the worker. He kept his tongue and shied away from the girls.
Sure enough, not long after the case worker dropped him off, the foster mom showed her true colors. She treated the boy poorly, slapping him upside the head every so often and forcing him to do all the cleaning and laundry while she sat on her fat ass. She'd munch on bonbons and watch her 'stories' as she called them.
The boy endured it all, all the scrubbing and cleaning, for he was an uncommonly kind boy, far too forgiving and gentle. He said nothing when the foster siblings were cruel, when God knows they really needed a kick in the ass.'
"Bobby! It does not say ass!"
"What'd I tell you about interrupting?" Bobby grinned, "My story, my words."
'The boy finished his chores each day and sat by the fireplace while they ate their fancy meals. He drew little pictures and designs in the ashes, never minding the way the cinder and soot stuck to his clothes and skin. His foster sisters laughed and pointed at the boy, mockingly naming him CinderJack, not that he paid them much attention. He was too busy drawing and singing under his breath.
One morning, CinderJack sat in the garden behind the house, knee deep in the soil as he weeded the plants for that fall's harvest. He hummed as he did so, wiping his hands off on his dirty shirt. His humming faded away when he saw the foster mother taking her two brats out for a bike ride.
He thought longingly of how nice it must have been, to be able to play and run about, to have such fun while he was stuck with a list of chores. CinderJack sniffed, one tear slipping down his cheek. It splashed onto the ground, startling a small gnome from his slumber.
"I say," the gnome declared. "Do I look like a plant to you? I don't need to be watered!"
CinderJack was startled to put it mildly. He looked around, sure that he was hearing things. "W-What...Who's there?" he called.
"Down here!" the gnome huffed and kicked at CinderJack's shovel.
CinderJack looked down, his blue eyes wide with shock. "What're you s'posed to be?"
"The hell do I look like?" the tiny gnome stood up and tucked his grubby fists on his hips. "I'm a garden gnome and you are the giant who's spilling water all over me."
"I'm not a giant!" CinderJack rubbed his eyes and sniffled, wiping his tears away. "I'm just a little kid."
"Little my ass," the gnome shook his head. "No matter, now why are you dropping water on me? I know I swiped some cherry tomatoes last week but c'mon, it was only two or three."
"I-I'm sorry," CinderJack whispered. "I didn't mean to...I wasn't trying to water you."
The gnome peered up at him. "Your face is wet. Why are you crying, little giant?"
CinderJack sniffed. "I wasn't."
The gnome jumped up and scurried along the shovel. He hopped onto CinderJack's shoulder, sitting comfortably. "Bull, little giants don't cry in gardens. Do they?" he mused, rubbing his dirty white beard, "Bah, anyway. What's eatin' you?"
"I'm sad...I wish I could go play, an' ride a bike and just be a kid sometimes," CinderJack sighed.
The gnome nodded, stroking his beard thoughtfully. "Well then, I know just the person for you," he clapped his hands, excited. "I tell you what, let's make a deal."
"A deal...?" CinderJack tilted his head.
The gnome grinned. "Uh huh, I know someone who takes in little giants and I know she would just love you. So I get you to her and you bring me along, deal?"
"Why would you want to come along?"
"For cookies of course," the gnome cackled. "We can share the cookies."
CinderJack smiled a bit and scooped the gnome up from his shoulder, holding him in his hands. "But how? I can't leave; my foster mom won't let me go."
"Hey, who's the talking garden gnome here? I'm magically inclined, just so you know," the gnome puffed his chest up and hopped down from CinderJack's hands. "Now let's see...we need a way out of here. Ahh, I know. Go get the wheelbarrow and bring it over."'
"There's no such thing as gnomes!" Jack laughed, keeping his head on Bobby's chest.
"Says who?" Bobby turned the page. "I say so, an' that's all that matters."
'CinderJack scampered over and brought the wheelbarrow to where he'd been sitting. The gnome eyed it and nodded. He cleared his throat dramatically.
"Ahem!" he waved his hands in the air, cracking his knuckles. He spoke gibberish, gesturing feverishly.
CinderJack watched in amazement, his skinny arms wrapped around his knees as the wheelbarrow changed from a dingy old wooden thing into a brand new bicycle, a blue one with a ringer on the handle.
"Wow!" he gasped. "That's so cool! What else can you do?"
"Whoa now, I don't perform on demand," the gnome hopped up Jack's arm again. "C'mon you, we need to bust outta this joint."
CinderJack stood up, brushing loose soil from his body. He climbed on the bicycle shakily, unaccustomed to riding one. "Um...little help, please?"
The gnome looked down. "Oh crap...right!" he twirled his fingers and produced a set of training wheels for him to practice on.
CinderJack smiled and began peddling around the yard, giggling happily. He rode down the driveway and along the sidewalk. The gnome held on to CinderJack's shirt.
"Man, the air feels good up here!" he laughed, his tiny cap whistling in the wind.
CinderJack rode and rode until he was worn out. He looked around the neighborhood uneasily, not having a clue where he was. He bit his lip, ignoring the ache in his limbs and belly.
"Ahh, there's the house!" the gnome pointed to the house on the corner of the street. "The queen lives there."
"A queen...?" CinderJack chewed on his lip more.
"Uh huh, c'mon, we came all this way, let's go in," the gnome urged him.
CinderJack approached the house cautiously. He peered in the window, watching a woman with shining white hair walk past the window. CinderJack ducked down when she came closer, even as the gnome jumped up onto the windowsill.
"Hey! Out here!" he bellowed, jumping up and down. "Gah!" he yelped as CinderJack tugged him down again.
"Shh, she'll hear you," CinderJack whispered.
"That's the point!" the gnome squirmed loose and ran across the lawn to the front door. He kicked at the door, hammering with his fists.
CinderJack froze, torn between wanting to run and needing to need. "Come back here!" he called. He looked up in horror, seeing the woman in the window, looking back at him. He stared at her, overwhelmingly aware of how dirty and terribly skinny he was. He felt tears burn his eyes and he ran away from the window, skidding and slipping on the pavement. He pushed himself up and reached for his bike, hopping on it and peddling away like mad.
The queen opened the door, puzzled by the strange boy in the bushes. She frowned when she saw him fall and then the smart queen Evelyn said to herself, "That little boy does not belong where he is living."
This much she was sure of.'
"Bobby, this story is sad," Jack protested, looking up at him with sad eyes.
"It gets better," Bobby murmured.
'The good queen Evelyn found the gnome on her doorstep, ranting and raving about the small boy. She picked him up with two fingers, eyeing the odd little creature. She listened intently as he told her of CinderJack, of the things he had noticed while living in the garden, for no magical creature is unaware of bad things that happen in the world of men.
She stopped long enough to slip her hooded cape on and pocketed the gnome, walking briskly in the direction that CinderJack had taken off in. Many hours later, she found herself before the house.
"You're certain this is it?" she asked the sleepy gnome.
He yawned and scratched himself someplace unmentionable before nodding. "Yep, he should be out in the shed, that's where they put him to sleep."
Queen Evelyn frowned deeply and walked past the house, into the back yard. She stopped in front of the shed, spotting a discarded wheelbarrow on its side, the shed door slightly ajar.'
"Why'd the wheelbarrow change back?" Jack piped in.
"Wait an' see," Bobby huffed, exasperated.
'She leaned in and opened the door, revealing CinderJack, who was huddled on his pile of rags. The gnome hopped out of her pocket and landed on CinderJack.
"Wake up! Wake up! Look who I found!" he chanted, tugging on CinderJack's fingers.
CinderJack opened his eyes, peering up at the kind face of the queen. "I...I'm sorry I spied!" he cried, edging away from her. "Please, I meant no harm!"
The queen knelt down before him, offering her hand to him, palm up. "Jackie," she said in a voice so soft and warm. "Don’t be afraid...there's no more bad things waiting for you. You're safe now."
CinderJack took the offered hand after a moment, letting her help lift him out of the shed. She smiled, wiping his face clean of soot and soil with her handkerchief. "There...what a handsome boy you are. Come; let's leave this place."
And Jack took her hand, walking past the wheelbarrow. The gnome hopped onto Jack's shoulder. "And me too," he said. He looked to Jack. "Sorry, my magic isn't forever, just temporary."
"We'll get you a nice bike to ride," Queen Evelyn assured Jack.
He smiled, holding tightly to her hand as they left the yard. Jack didn't look back.'
Jack sniffled, wiping at his eyes. Bobby set the book to the side and hugged him close, wiping the few tears with his thumb. "Not a queen," Jack whispered. "More like an angel."
Bobby smiled slowly and rubbed Jack's back until he calmed. "Damn right."
"Will you read to me tomorrow night?" Jack asked a few minutes later.
"Yeah, only this time I pick the story."
XX
Author: veiledndarkness
Pairing: None really.
Rating: PG-13
Summary: Bobby's fairytales are more interesting.
Disclaimer: Not mine, no profit made, no harm intended.
1 – Little Red Riding Hood
2 - Cinderella
XX
"Please...?"
Bobby turned the pages back to the table of contents. "Alright, fine, one more story, but then its bedtime, no ifs ands or butts about it."
Jack nodded eagerly and leaned forward again. "Promise," he said. He pointed to another title. "I want Cinderella this time."
"Figures," Bobby snorted. He ignored Jack's pointy elbow jabbing his side again.
"Why'd you say the stories are messed up?"
Bobby flipped to the front page of the new story. "Because they are, or they were. The Grimm brothers wrote down stories, but these are different. They changed a lotta shit to water it down for little fairy boys. Wouldn't make them much money if they scared the snot outta you, now would they?"
Jack chewed on his thumb nail, nodding. "The first one wasn't too scary."
"You should see what they originally wrote," Bobby muttered. He pointed to the title. "So this one is Cinderella or as I call it, CinderJack."
"Bobby..."
'Once upon a time, probably a long time ago, there was a young boy by the name of Jack. He was brought to a home after the death of his parents. He was handed over abruptly to a woman who would be his foster mother. She acted proper and nice to her own spoiled brats, two nasty little girls. But Jack could tell she was only faking it when she was nice to him in front of the worker. He kept his tongue and shied away from the girls.
Sure enough, not long after the case worker dropped him off, the foster mom showed her true colors. She treated the boy poorly, slapping him upside the head every so often and forcing him to do all the cleaning and laundry while she sat on her fat ass. She'd munch on bonbons and watch her 'stories' as she called them.
The boy endured it all, all the scrubbing and cleaning, for he was an uncommonly kind boy, far too forgiving and gentle. He said nothing when the foster siblings were cruel, when God knows they really needed a kick in the ass.'
"Bobby! It does not say ass!"
"What'd I tell you about interrupting?" Bobby grinned, "My story, my words."
'The boy finished his chores each day and sat by the fireplace while they ate their fancy meals. He drew little pictures and designs in the ashes, never minding the way the cinder and soot stuck to his clothes and skin. His foster sisters laughed and pointed at the boy, mockingly naming him CinderJack, not that he paid them much attention. He was too busy drawing and singing under his breath.
One morning, CinderJack sat in the garden behind the house, knee deep in the soil as he weeded the plants for that fall's harvest. He hummed as he did so, wiping his hands off on his dirty shirt. His humming faded away when he saw the foster mother taking her two brats out for a bike ride.
He thought longingly of how nice it must have been, to be able to play and run about, to have such fun while he was stuck with a list of chores. CinderJack sniffed, one tear slipping down his cheek. It splashed onto the ground, startling a small gnome from his slumber.
"I say," the gnome declared. "Do I look like a plant to you? I don't need to be watered!"
CinderJack was startled to put it mildly. He looked around, sure that he was hearing things. "W-What...Who's there?" he called.
"Down here!" the gnome huffed and kicked at CinderJack's shovel.
CinderJack looked down, his blue eyes wide with shock. "What're you s'posed to be?"
"The hell do I look like?" the tiny gnome stood up and tucked his grubby fists on his hips. "I'm a garden gnome and you are the giant who's spilling water all over me."
"I'm not a giant!" CinderJack rubbed his eyes and sniffled, wiping his tears away. "I'm just a little kid."
"Little my ass," the gnome shook his head. "No matter, now why are you dropping water on me? I know I swiped some cherry tomatoes last week but c'mon, it was only two or three."
"I-I'm sorry," CinderJack whispered. "I didn't mean to...I wasn't trying to water you."
The gnome peered up at him. "Your face is wet. Why are you crying, little giant?"
CinderJack sniffed. "I wasn't."
The gnome jumped up and scurried along the shovel. He hopped onto CinderJack's shoulder, sitting comfortably. "Bull, little giants don't cry in gardens. Do they?" he mused, rubbing his dirty white beard, "Bah, anyway. What's eatin' you?"
"I'm sad...I wish I could go play, an' ride a bike and just be a kid sometimes," CinderJack sighed.
The gnome nodded, stroking his beard thoughtfully. "Well then, I know just the person for you," he clapped his hands, excited. "I tell you what, let's make a deal."
"A deal...?" CinderJack tilted his head.
The gnome grinned. "Uh huh, I know someone who takes in little giants and I know she would just love you. So I get you to her and you bring me along, deal?"
"Why would you want to come along?"
"For cookies of course," the gnome cackled. "We can share the cookies."
CinderJack smiled a bit and scooped the gnome up from his shoulder, holding him in his hands. "But how? I can't leave; my foster mom won't let me go."
"Hey, who's the talking garden gnome here? I'm magically inclined, just so you know," the gnome puffed his chest up and hopped down from CinderJack's hands. "Now let's see...we need a way out of here. Ahh, I know. Go get the wheelbarrow and bring it over."'
"There's no such thing as gnomes!" Jack laughed, keeping his head on Bobby's chest.
"Says who?" Bobby turned the page. "I say so, an' that's all that matters."
'CinderJack scampered over and brought the wheelbarrow to where he'd been sitting. The gnome eyed it and nodded. He cleared his throat dramatically.
"Ahem!" he waved his hands in the air, cracking his knuckles. He spoke gibberish, gesturing feverishly.
CinderJack watched in amazement, his skinny arms wrapped around his knees as the wheelbarrow changed from a dingy old wooden thing into a brand new bicycle, a blue one with a ringer on the handle.
"Wow!" he gasped. "That's so cool! What else can you do?"
"Whoa now, I don't perform on demand," the gnome hopped up Jack's arm again. "C'mon you, we need to bust outta this joint."
CinderJack stood up, brushing loose soil from his body. He climbed on the bicycle shakily, unaccustomed to riding one. "Um...little help, please?"
The gnome looked down. "Oh crap...right!" he twirled his fingers and produced a set of training wheels for him to practice on.
CinderJack smiled and began peddling around the yard, giggling happily. He rode down the driveway and along the sidewalk. The gnome held on to CinderJack's shirt.
"Man, the air feels good up here!" he laughed, his tiny cap whistling in the wind.
CinderJack rode and rode until he was worn out. He looked around the neighborhood uneasily, not having a clue where he was. He bit his lip, ignoring the ache in his limbs and belly.
"Ahh, there's the house!" the gnome pointed to the house on the corner of the street. "The queen lives there."
"A queen...?" CinderJack chewed on his lip more.
"Uh huh, c'mon, we came all this way, let's go in," the gnome urged him.
CinderJack approached the house cautiously. He peered in the window, watching a woman with shining white hair walk past the window. CinderJack ducked down when she came closer, even as the gnome jumped up onto the windowsill.
"Hey! Out here!" he bellowed, jumping up and down. "Gah!" he yelped as CinderJack tugged him down again.
"Shh, she'll hear you," CinderJack whispered.
"That's the point!" the gnome squirmed loose and ran across the lawn to the front door. He kicked at the door, hammering with his fists.
CinderJack froze, torn between wanting to run and needing to need. "Come back here!" he called. He looked up in horror, seeing the woman in the window, looking back at him. He stared at her, overwhelmingly aware of how dirty and terribly skinny he was. He felt tears burn his eyes and he ran away from the window, skidding and slipping on the pavement. He pushed himself up and reached for his bike, hopping on it and peddling away like mad.
The queen opened the door, puzzled by the strange boy in the bushes. She frowned when she saw him fall and then the smart queen Evelyn said to herself, "That little boy does not belong where he is living."
This much she was sure of.'
"Bobby, this story is sad," Jack protested, looking up at him with sad eyes.
"It gets better," Bobby murmured.
'The good queen Evelyn found the gnome on her doorstep, ranting and raving about the small boy. She picked him up with two fingers, eyeing the odd little creature. She listened intently as he told her of CinderJack, of the things he had noticed while living in the garden, for no magical creature is unaware of bad things that happen in the world of men.
She stopped long enough to slip her hooded cape on and pocketed the gnome, walking briskly in the direction that CinderJack had taken off in. Many hours later, she found herself before the house.
"You're certain this is it?" she asked the sleepy gnome.
He yawned and scratched himself someplace unmentionable before nodding. "Yep, he should be out in the shed, that's where they put him to sleep."
Queen Evelyn frowned deeply and walked past the house, into the back yard. She stopped in front of the shed, spotting a discarded wheelbarrow on its side, the shed door slightly ajar.'
"Why'd the wheelbarrow change back?" Jack piped in.
"Wait an' see," Bobby huffed, exasperated.
'She leaned in and opened the door, revealing CinderJack, who was huddled on his pile of rags. The gnome hopped out of her pocket and landed on CinderJack.
"Wake up! Wake up! Look who I found!" he chanted, tugging on CinderJack's fingers.
CinderJack opened his eyes, peering up at the kind face of the queen. "I...I'm sorry I spied!" he cried, edging away from her. "Please, I meant no harm!"
The queen knelt down before him, offering her hand to him, palm up. "Jackie," she said in a voice so soft and warm. "Don’t be afraid...there's no more bad things waiting for you. You're safe now."
CinderJack took the offered hand after a moment, letting her help lift him out of the shed. She smiled, wiping his face clean of soot and soil with her handkerchief. "There...what a handsome boy you are. Come; let's leave this place."
And Jack took her hand, walking past the wheelbarrow. The gnome hopped onto Jack's shoulder. "And me too," he said. He looked to Jack. "Sorry, my magic isn't forever, just temporary."
"We'll get you a nice bike to ride," Queen Evelyn assured Jack.
He smiled, holding tightly to her hand as they left the yard. Jack didn't look back.'
Jack sniffled, wiping at his eyes. Bobby set the book to the side and hugged him close, wiping the few tears with his thumb. "Not a queen," Jack whispered. "More like an angel."
Bobby smiled slowly and rubbed Jack's back until he calmed. "Damn right."
"Will you read to me tomorrow night?" Jack asked a few minutes later.
"Yeah, only this time I pick the story."
XX
