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(Burn) the Mill (Down)
🕑 Added 2024-08-30 10:09:54 +0000 UTCQuinn's POV, talking with the cookie shop grandmother about Hati
Mouse.
Two. Three.
Squeaking, crawling. Scratching. Gnawing.
I release my knees from the hug and shield my ears. Why are they so loud? Is it the hard wooden floor amplifying their ungodly sounds?
Do they resent life in this godsforsaken town, too?
“Or do you want to drive me insane?” I ask the empty mill room. The critters don’t answer.
I smack my head to make it stop. It doesn’t. It just hurts.
//shut up shut up shut up//
My bones yearn to lie in the shade of the trees but it’s not safe. I can’t.
Instead, I’m here. Amidst the mice and the rats and the dirt and the people.
At least you’re here, too. Close. The fort is so close that I can smell you. I can smell the change in your moods, if you’re happy, sad, enraged. Afraid.
It comforts me. I inhale the scent, ignoring the flour in the air.
The noise of the critters cease as the door opens. “Have you eaten today, dear?” the familiar voice asks. I heard her heavy step from afar, her walking cane clunked loud on the stone. Her presence doesn’t offend me.
“No.” It’s a chore. Why do you have to eat so much to stay alive?
The grandmother lets out a heavy sigh. “You are a handful, you know that?”
I don’t answer. It doesn’t matter what she thinks.
With her bad knees, she bends down to give me a handful of baked goods. Cookies.
It lifts my spirit.
“Thank you,” I say. It’s easy to act polite with her. I even give her a small smile. She’s the only person who manages to make me force a smile in this town. She reminds me of someone I used to know. A long, long time ago.
“Aren’t you visiting your friend today?” she asks.
“No. They’re busy,” I say and perk at the grating sound of my voice. There’s something wrong with it. It’s almost… bitter.
Why would I be bitter? You’re doing your duty. You’re making sure our plans work. You’re absolutely perfect.
The grandmother smiles at me. It’s a weird kind of smile. She’s standing above me, smiling like she knows something more than I do.
It makes my skin tingle with annoyance.
“You act so differently with them,” she says with a smile that can only be described as warm.
“Of course. They’re special.”
“I can see that. Do you want to tell me more about them?”
“You’ve seen them,” I remind the old woman. Her eyesight must be failing her if I have to tell her what she already saw. Or maybe her memory is filled with holes. “They’re radiant.” My dearest friend. Who throws certain kinds of looks at me that I don’t appreciate. It makes me feel some… how.
Some kind of way.
Sad? I’d hope to make you look at me like you used to.
“They’re the only thing that matters in this world,” I add, aiming my words to the wall.
The grandmother shakes her head at my words. I can see it from the corner of my eye.
“What?” I ask, annoyed by her expression of something I can’t understand.
“Maybe you shouldn’t put so much weight on one person’s shoulders alone.” Her tone isn’t careful at all, even if she’s saying the most preposterous things.
‘Maybe you should mind your own business, hag, before I burn your pathetic mill down,’ I want to say. But I don’t. Something in me shuts down, refusing to lash out at the grandma. Instead, I stare at the cookies in my hand.
I crush them into crumbles.
Comments
A sandwich
Poor Grandma does not know how close she is to getting smooshed 😨
Haley Mattos
in other words, Quinn is a poor little meow meow
