Vinegar Bees
flowers & teeth.
A different lake altogether greeted her in the shallow layer of dreams she plumbed amid the clouds. It was a bright lake, sun-dappled and undulating gently, the air damp and summer-sweet around her. Waist-deep she stood in the water, her jacket fanning out around her hips. The water was lukewarm, like a glass left out to sit in an airy room.
Another girl faced her, a tiny sprite of a girl—but she stood atop the surface of the water rather than beneath it, and so even in her smallness, she towered above Maylee. A twee little ribbon dotted each end of her braided pigtails, and her flouncy sundress did not move with the wind.
Maylee could not bring herself to meet the girl's eyes. "What do you want?" she asked bitterly, painfully.
The girl did not look at her, her glassy eyes pointed obscurely ahead. "Mama?" she whispered, a tinny voice that echoed off the surface of the water. "Mama, there's a monster in my closet."
Maylee gritted her teeth, her fists clenching at her sides. "Stop it," she hissed, fighting to keep her voice steady. "I'm not your mother. We don't have a mother."
The girl blinked. "Mama," she called out softly, and then her voice grew with each repetition: "Mama, mama, mama—"
Maylee tried to raise her hands to cover her ears, but she found them rooted to the water, unwilling to move. In perhaps some sort of feeble compensation, she squeezed her eyes shut.
"Mama, mama, he's going to eat me—"
"Enough," Maylee lashed out, wrenching her eyes open only to feel the familiar sting of tears on her cheeks.
"Stop crying, Maylee," the little girl said suddenly, low and sharp like the chill of an icy bath.
"I'm not—" Maylee protested weakly, and then she realized the water level was rising rapidly, her tears feeding a quickly-swelling tide.
"Stop crying, Maylee," the little girl said again. As the water rose, she rose, too, her bare, grass-spotted feet always hovering just above the surface of the water. In vain, Maylee tried to reach for her ankles, to find some kind of purchase amid the inexorable tide.
"Help, please," Maylee cried hoarsely, throwing her head back as the water level lapped around her neck.
For the first time, the little girl tipped her head down, her dark brown eyes void of light as she met Maylee's gaze.
"We've been through this, Maylee," she said flatly. "Stop crying."
And then water rushed in through Maylee's mouth and nose.
Maylee awoke with a start, covering her mouth to stifle the reflexive, hungry gasp for air. They had landed.
Disoriented, she glanced around the unfamiliar interior of the jet until she settled on the now-familiar (or, at least, as familiar as she was going to get in this situation) faces of Shia and Evelyn.
Carefully, slowly, she took mollifying breaths through her nose, savoring the sensation of lungs filled to capacity.
You can be scared, she repeated to herself, a familiar mantra, but don't let it show.
Maylee remained mostly quiet as she followed Shia and Evelyn off of the plane. As Shia thanked Evelyn for the amenities of the private jet, Maylee prepared to awkwardly offer her own gratitude, but her voice cut off in surprise when Shia thanked her, too.
Her? But she hadn't actually done anything—
"Hopefully, we can correct what is wrong with the moon and you may both return home sooner rather than later."
Maylee bit her tongue, her fists tightening at her sides.
"Don't worry about it. Whatever is going on with the moon, it... it's bigger than whatever life I had back home."
If you could call it home. Still, Maylee hoped Ms. Baker was at least doing all right. If whatever sinister condition had afflicted her was on behalf of those gentlemen following Maylee, perhaps her departure from town had guaranteed the older woman's safety.
She hoped so.
When Shia had mentioned a driver, she hadn't been particularly expecting a limousine and a sharp-dressed, butler-looking type.
"Um... thanks," she mumbled to the driver, unsure how she was supposed to address him. She lowered her gaze uncomfortably as she shuffled into the limousine, propping her messenger bag up once again on her lap. She didn't even own a car, opting instead to use her bike to get around—it was jarring how thoroughly everything had changed in less than a day.
"So, um, this Devlin," she said to the others as they joined her in the limo. "I'm guessing he's got plenty of money to spare, too?"
Another girl faced her, a tiny sprite of a girl—but she stood atop the surface of the water rather than beneath it, and so even in her smallness, she towered above Maylee. A twee little ribbon dotted each end of her braided pigtails, and her flouncy sundress did not move with the wind.
Maylee could not bring herself to meet the girl's eyes. "What do you want?" she asked bitterly, painfully.
The girl did not look at her, her glassy eyes pointed obscurely ahead. "Mama?" she whispered, a tinny voice that echoed off the surface of the water. "Mama, there's a monster in my closet."
Maylee gritted her teeth, her fists clenching at her sides. "Stop it," she hissed, fighting to keep her voice steady. "I'm not your mother. We don't have a mother."
The girl blinked. "Mama," she called out softly, and then her voice grew with each repetition: "Mama, mama, mama—"
Maylee tried to raise her hands to cover her ears, but she found them rooted to the water, unwilling to move. In perhaps some sort of feeble compensation, she squeezed her eyes shut.
"Mama, mama, he's going to eat me—"
"Enough," Maylee lashed out, wrenching her eyes open only to feel the familiar sting of tears on her cheeks.
"Stop crying, Maylee," the little girl said suddenly, low and sharp like the chill of an icy bath.
"I'm not—" Maylee protested weakly, and then she realized the water level was rising rapidly, her tears feeding a quickly-swelling tide.
"Stop crying, Maylee," the little girl said again. As the water rose, she rose, too, her bare, grass-spotted feet always hovering just above the surface of the water. In vain, Maylee tried to reach for her ankles, to find some kind of purchase amid the inexorable tide.
"Help, please," Maylee cried hoarsely, throwing her head back as the water level lapped around her neck.
For the first time, the little girl tipped her head down, her dark brown eyes void of light as she met Maylee's gaze.
"We've been through this, Maylee," she said flatly. "Stop crying."
And then water rushed in through Maylee's mouth and nose.
⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯
Maylee awoke with a start, covering her mouth to stifle the reflexive, hungry gasp for air. They had landed.
Disoriented, she glanced around the unfamiliar interior of the jet until she settled on the now-familiar (or, at least, as familiar as she was going to get in this situation) faces of Shia and Evelyn.
Carefully, slowly, she took mollifying breaths through her nose, savoring the sensation of lungs filled to capacity.
You can be scared, she repeated to herself, a familiar mantra, but don't let it show.
Maylee remained mostly quiet as she followed Shia and Evelyn off of the plane. As Shia thanked Evelyn for the amenities of the private jet, Maylee prepared to awkwardly offer her own gratitude, but her voice cut off in surprise when Shia thanked her, too.
Her? But she hadn't actually done anything—
"Hopefully, we can correct what is wrong with the moon and you may both return home sooner rather than later."
Maylee bit her tongue, her fists tightening at her sides.
"Don't worry about it. Whatever is going on with the moon, it... it's bigger than whatever life I had back home."
If you could call it home. Still, Maylee hoped Ms. Baker was at least doing all right. If whatever sinister condition had afflicted her was on behalf of those gentlemen following Maylee, perhaps her departure from town had guaranteed the older woman's safety.
She hoped so.
When Shia had mentioned a driver, she hadn't been particularly expecting a limousine and a sharp-dressed, butler-looking type.
"Um... thanks," she mumbled to the driver, unsure how she was supposed to address him. She lowered her gaze uncomfortably as she shuffled into the limousine, propping her messenger bag up once again on her lap. She didn't even own a car, opting instead to use her bike to get around—it was jarring how thoroughly everything had changed in less than a day.
"So, um, this Devlin," she said to the others as they joined her in the limo. "I'm guessing he's got plenty of money to spare, too?"
maylee song.
hunter | werewolf
Last edited: