Brownie
Re: Brownie
Part 1
"Uuuugghh. Nnngghh."
Blinding pain was his first memory. Unbelievable agony that, thankfully, lasted only a moment before quickly easing to a low, dull aching throb, like a toothache. Just a toothache that consisted of his entire body.
Softly panting he simply laid there for a while, resting, while his mind seemed to whirl like a pinwheel. It felt like parts of him had been stretched, while other parts of him had been squished. A quite decidedly odd, and definitely uncomfortable feeling. His tummy was queasy and, making that worse, much worse, was a quickly growing fear. He simply couldn't remember anything, not a single thing.
Well, that wasn't quite true. It was like memory was just there. Just at the tip of his fingers. But every time he tried clutching a memory it slipped away, like trying to grasp a snowflake in the middle of a howling blizzard. And it seemed to get harder and harder the more he tried until, finally, he just gave up for now and lay there, shivering and trembling.
Gradually the pain faded, shifting through dull discomfort until eventually disappearing, although he still felt . . . awkward. Odd. Again he had the most amazing, fleeting feeling of having been stretched and pulled, squished and compressed, as if he'd been taffy or something.
Little by little he started becoming aware of other things, too. He felt chilly, for one. Both the stone he lay atop and the air around him felt clammy and dank and cool. And the air! . . . ugh! It had an awful, noisome stench to it. Wait . . . stone!?
His cheek was resting against gritty stone. Something he noticed quite easily once he'd rolled more onto his tummy, rested his palms flat on that surface then lifted his head up a bit, finally opening his eyes. Raising one hand a moment he pushed his glasses back up his nose and looked around at last . . . and shuddered as he took his first look around.
It was the oddest 'dark' he'd ever seen. It certainly wasn't daylight, that was for certain sure! But it also wasn't night night, either. The only words he could think of that fit was some sort of eerie, gloomy, dismal twilight. As if the gloom itself gave off some sort of creepy, unnatural illumination. And the fog!
That was just as eerie and spooky as the gloom. Thick tendrils of ghastly, nasty-smelling vapor twisted and twined everywhere! And while there wasn't a breeze to be felt, those crepuscular coils twisted and snaked about, almost as if alive.
He couldn't think of a scarier, most depressing and gloomy place if he'd tried. And, honestly, really the very last thing he wanted to do right then was try to think of that!
Suddenly he felt his breath catch, felt his eyes widen like saucers behind his glasses, as he glanced down at his hands. They had to be his hands; they were attached to his arms, after all. And then he noticed his arms, and his mind started whirling again, leaving him feeling dizzy and lightheaded.
One of those elusive memories flitted by, lingering just long enough to confirm what he'd already, instinctively knew. Neither his hands nor his arms were supposed to be brown. A uniform, smooth and unblemished bark brown, except for his nails, which were a somewhat lighter, acorn-ish brown. He slowly pushed up on his knees, staring wide-eyed at his hands, turning them palm-up then palm-down, just staring at them.
And then his jaw dropped even further when he rubbed his fingers against his other arm. It not only looked like wood, it felt like wood, too! Like finely-sanded and highly polished wood. But wood that also felt warm, and alive. Slowly he clambered off his knees and stood up, feeling his legs wobbly from shock, and also feeling oddly . . . unbalanced. As if he wasn't quite used to his legs and arms and body. Which was silly, of course. But that's what it felt like!
He quickly noticed it wasn't just his hands and arms that looked that way. All of him that he could check, save for his fingernails, was that same, uniform color. Like he'd been dipped in stain or something. He suspected his toenails would look like his fingernails but, as he was currently wearing boot moccasins, he couldn't tell. Then that jogged another memory almost loose.
Whatever he was wearing felt . . . odd. Unusual. Why, he couldn't quite say. But they obviously were his clothes, because they did fit him. Perfectly, in fact. First off the boot moccasins. They looked like Indian-style (and for a moment 'Indian' meant something to him before that memory fluttered off lost again) boot moccasins, just of sturdier leather. And brown; what a surprise he thought. Then there was a short-sleeved tunic, the bottom reaching just above his knees with a split at front and back. That, too, was brown, a lighter, warmer color, and felt like coarse linen. Coarse, just not rough; it wasn't like burlap or canvas, but it wasn't as fine-woven as silk. There was a leather belt and a small leather belt pouch, too. Again brown.
Pushing his glasses back up he slowly looked around, wrapping arms around him as he shuddered. He didn't like this place, nope, not at all! And making that worse was having no idea, none at all, of where he was, or why he was there and, most importantly, who he was. But the one thing he was for certain sure about was he didn't want to stay here.
Things quickly disappeared off in that gloomy fog, but what he could see around him wasn't exactly relieving. He was standing atop some sort of, well, road. More of a causeway, actually, since it seemed as much bridge as it did road, twisting and winding it's way over frightening, yawning gullies and chasms and through rolling, bare hills. It wasn't level, either, so he had three choices: walk off the side and into that scary, frightening woods (which didn't at all appeal to him), or plod uphill, or trudge downhill. He was already walking the downhill way before he realized it, almost as if something was urging him along. And since it was easier to walk down than up he just kept plodding along, keeping to the dead center of the rough, cracked and dusty road, and far away from the edges.
As he walked along he slowly became aware of some unsettling things. There were no bushes or shrubs or flowers. There was no grass. There wasn't even weeds! And a road this old, this decrepit, should certainly have weeds sprouting up! That's what weeds did, after all! But all he saw were a few old, dead trees. At least they looked dead. They were bare of leaves, their branches thrusting skeletally up into the air, trunks grayish and hoary with age. He'd have thought they were just bare from winter, except it didn't feel like winter. Plus there were no sign of fallen leaves or other litter. Pausing at one he looked at it closely. Poor thing, it felt more like it was still alive, but just too hopeless and despairing to sprout leaves.
And while there was no sign of life, he just couldn't shake the feeling of eyes upon him. Eyes that meant him no good will. Eyes that gleefully followed him, wicked eyes that patiently waited, knowing he would soon be theirs.
He'd been walking for some time, feeling more and more scared and alone and lost, when he finally jerked to a stop, his ears perking forwards. He'd heard a noise, the very first sound he'd heard save for his own breathing and the scuff of his moccasins. And it was a very odd sound, too. And one that was quickly growing louder, which meant closer.
Within half a minute he jerked again, his mind making sense of the noise, a semi-rhythmic rumble, then grind, then burped cough. It sounded like a engine in very bad need of a tune-up, an engine straining to make its way up the sloped road . . . and towards him.
For a moment he was delighted to hear that, for that meant he'd finally see someone. But no sooner had he recognized that sound than a terrible sense of fear descended upon him. He didn't know why. He couldn't explain it. He just knew, beyond any question, beyond any shadow of a doubt, that he needed to hide. That the very last thing he wanted to happen was to be spotted and seen. He didn't think, he didn't guess; he knew.
Panicked he looked left, then right, then all around, feeling his chest tighten with fear, his heart pound with dread. He had to hide, he had to! But there was nowhere to hide!
Looking back the way he'd came he saw a wizened, bent tree just off the side of the road about a hundred feet away. He was already racing up the road before he'd even thought about it. It wasn't much but it would have to do. His only other choices were jumping off one side of the road and down into a gully or racing off the other side and into that awful, frightening woods, and neither of those appealed to him in the least!
Skidding to a stop he leaped off the road and dashed over to the tree, crouching behind it and pressing tight. It wasn't much but, between the twilight and the gloom, surely whoever (or whatever, he thought with a shiver) it was wouldn't possibly see him as they drove by.
Whoever (or whatever) he'd pictured it could be the reality hit him like a punch to the tummy. He literally gasped, doubling over in shock before shaking like a leaf in one of Stormy's tempests. One, two, three, right in a row, he felt the sledgehammer jolt of disbelieving recognition.
First was the vehicle that coughed and sputtered and belched its way towards him. His eyes rounded spotting that. It . . . it couldn't be! It just couldn't!
But it was, and certainly could be. There was no mistaking the Grunge Buggy for anything else. And that meant . . .
That meant the creature driving it had to be Lurky. And where there was Lurky . . .
"Keep going, keep going oh please just keep going," he whispered, quaking in terror as he hid, that tree suddenly feeling much too small to be any use at all in hiding. He had no idea at all, at all!, how he knew what that was and who they were. But knew them he did, and not for a moment did he question that absolute conviction.
"Stop! Stop! I said stop, lame-brain!" he heard a voice yell out as the Grunge Buggy sputtered by, and he whimpered, pressing tighter against the tree, willing himself to, somehow, go invisible. Or something! With an awful screech the Grunge Buggy fishtailed to a stop, not twenty feet away from him!
"What are we stoppin' for Murky? We're not back at da Pits yet."
"I know that banana brain!" growled who could only be Murky. "That's part of my Master plan!" he sniggered.
Daring a peek around the tree he quickly pulled his head back, wishing he hadn't. For jogging right towards him was Murky!
"Oh right! The Master Plan!" Lurky repeated. "Oh boy oh boy oh boy! The Master Plan!" he chortled. "Uh . . . what's da Master Plan Murky?"
By then Murky had stopped right by the tree, and he was certain he'd been seen. Murky was only five or so feet away, after all! He pushed tighter against the tree, his heart pounding so hard and so fast he was certain Murky could hear it! He kept pushing and pushing, trying harder and harder to mold himself to the trunk and keep from being seen, his eyes tightly closed as if that could help, too.
Then he almost gasped, feeling the oddest, most incredible sensation. His eyes popped open, then widened to saucers. He was staring right at Murky! Right in his eyes, in fact! But Murky wasn't acting at all like he could see him! Which was a very very good thing, he thought with an intense shudder. For Murky wasn't looking at all comical or clownish. Didn't look at all like a buffoon or goof. There was a manic, truly wicked and evil gleam to his eyes. Eyes that glittered with a twisted sense of genius.
He didn't doubt at all, at all, that Murky couldn't invent or create a 'plan' that would ever work or succeed, true. But that was a bit hard to believe when you were unfortunate enough to be staring right into those eyes of his!
Murky lay down on his belly, right at the side of the road, then leaned way over. "What's the first thing that Rainbow brat or those Color Kids do after I've been to Rainbow Land and taken something or someone?"
Lurky scratched his head. "Uhhh . . . uhhhh . . . tricked you and took it back?"
"Grrrrrrrr," Murky growled, a literal growl at that, a ferocious scowl on his face. "No, bird-brain! Not that!" Reaching down he carefully prized a small cobble from the side of the road, revealing a dank, dark hole. He stuffed something small and folded up inside then jammed the cobble back in place. Standing up he dusted his hands off then glared at Lurky.
"The first thing they do is come right to the Pits to get it back. They always do that. And they'll do the same thing this time! Except, this time . . . !" he hopped into the side car, leaning his head back and laughed and laughed. "To the Pits Lurky! We have a welcome to get ready!"
With a grinding of gears Lurky started up the Grunge Buggy, which belched a truly hideous, noxious cloud of exhaust before sputtering it's way up the road and quickly vanishing from sight.
"Whew!"
He gustily exhaled, his legs feeling like jelly. He had no idea how Murky had missed seeing him but he sure wasn't complaining, oh no! He just never would have thought that old tree had been big enough to hide behind!
"Oh wow!"
That was an awed whisper as suddenly he noticed something. Something very important. Something that, quite understandably, he'd overlooked before. He wasn't standing behind the tree. He was standing inside the tree!
He slowly looked around. Yup, no mistake. He was inside the tree. How, he had no idea. But he was. It didn't look, or feel, any different than it did standing in air. We-ell . . . just a little different, he decided after thinking hard on that. The 'air' felt a little bit, well, thicker. Not as thick as if moving through water, no. Nowhere near like that. Actually it was pretty hard to explain and, after a few moments, he simply shrugged and accepted it.
What was harder to accept was the slowly growing feeling of despair and hopelessness. Oh, he'd never see sunlight again. Never. And he was so dry and thirsty. And he'd never bud again, never feel springtime sap coursing through him ever again.
Hey, waitaminnute! Springtime sap? Bud again?
He was feeling the tree!
"I'm sorry," he whispered. "I wish I could help. But I don't even have water or I'd give you some. But don't give up, ok? If I can ever do anything for you I will. Promise."
A feeling like summer sunshine flowed over him for a moment, and suddenly he felt much better. Slowly stepping forwards he walked out of the tree, breathing a sigh of relief. He hadn't been at all sure he could do that (since he'd no idea how he'd managed to step inside to begin with) and was greatly relieved at how easy it was to just walk out.
Then again, walking out of the tree meant walking back into the Pits, which wasn't exactly what he'd chosen if he'd had that choice.
His knees still felt wobbly so he leaned back against the tree, especially since his mind felt just as wobbly. That had definitely been Murky Dismal and Lurky. Even if he hadn't recognized them they'd called each other that. And if they were Murky and Lurky than this was unquestionably the Pits. And that meant . . .
His breath caught in his throat. Then that meant there was also a Rainbow Land. And that was here, too!
Suddenly a wealth of names and images flooded his head. He gave a soft cry and fell to his knees, hands clapped to his head as they swamped his mind. Rainbow Brite. Starlite. Twink. Red Butler. Oh, and a whole host of others! That was bad enough but the truly disturbing, puzzling thing was that he felt he should already know them. Or know of them at any rate. This felt like staring off into a utterly black sky and seeing, one by one, stars appear, and somehow knowing what each one was as it flickered and flared into brilliant life.
Well, if Murky and Lurky were going that way, he reasoned, than rainbow Land should be that way. Pushing off from the tree he gave it a kindly, farewell pat to the hoary, gray trunk then started to clamber up onto the road. He'd feel a lot safer, and a lot less afraid and lost, once he was in Rainbow Land, that was for sure!
But something made him pause.
"The first thing they do is come right to the Pits to get it back. They always do that. And they'll do the same thing this time! Except, this time . . . !"
He remembered Murky's gloating, gleeful laughter. He had something terrible and wicked in mind, and he wondered what, if anything, that had to do with what he'd tucked away and hidden behind that stone.
Honestly, one of the very last things he wanted to do was play around with anything Murky had touched. Whatever was behind that stone was, like as not, some sort of evil, diabolical trap. Nibbling his lip he considered things. If it was meant as a trap, he considered, it was a rather subtle one. After all, it wasn't at all likely anyone would ever notice that stone. Not from up on the road, anyway. And even from down here it was just one stone amongst many. So what was the point?
Taking a deep breath he reached out, lower lip between his teeth as he grasped the stone. Wiggling it back and forth he carefully eased it free, revealing a dark opening. Swallowing hard he reached inside. With his luck it was probably a huge rat . . . or something even worse.
But to his vast relief all he felt was something soft. Taking hold he pulled it out . . .
Then dropped the stone as his jaw dropped . . . as it unrolled . . . as it unfurled into a long, wide rainbow ribbon with a five pointed gold star at one end.
"Uuuugghh. Nnngghh."
Blinding pain was his first memory. Unbelievable agony that, thankfully, lasted only a moment before quickly easing to a low, dull aching throb, like a toothache. Just a toothache that consisted of his entire body.
Softly panting he simply laid there for a while, resting, while his mind seemed to whirl like a pinwheel. It felt like parts of him had been stretched, while other parts of him had been squished. A quite decidedly odd, and definitely uncomfortable feeling. His tummy was queasy and, making that worse, much worse, was a quickly growing fear. He simply couldn't remember anything, not a single thing.
Well, that wasn't quite true. It was like memory was just there. Just at the tip of his fingers. But every time he tried clutching a memory it slipped away, like trying to grasp a snowflake in the middle of a howling blizzard. And it seemed to get harder and harder the more he tried until, finally, he just gave up for now and lay there, shivering and trembling.
Gradually the pain faded, shifting through dull discomfort until eventually disappearing, although he still felt . . . awkward. Odd. Again he had the most amazing, fleeting feeling of having been stretched and pulled, squished and compressed, as if he'd been taffy or something.
Little by little he started becoming aware of other things, too. He felt chilly, for one. Both the stone he lay atop and the air around him felt clammy and dank and cool. And the air! . . . ugh! It had an awful, noisome stench to it. Wait . . . stone!?
His cheek was resting against gritty stone. Something he noticed quite easily once he'd rolled more onto his tummy, rested his palms flat on that surface then lifted his head up a bit, finally opening his eyes. Raising one hand a moment he pushed his glasses back up his nose and looked around at last . . . and shuddered as he took his first look around.
It was the oddest 'dark' he'd ever seen. It certainly wasn't daylight, that was for certain sure! But it also wasn't night night, either. The only words he could think of that fit was some sort of eerie, gloomy, dismal twilight. As if the gloom itself gave off some sort of creepy, unnatural illumination. And the fog!
That was just as eerie and spooky as the gloom. Thick tendrils of ghastly, nasty-smelling vapor twisted and twined everywhere! And while there wasn't a breeze to be felt, those crepuscular coils twisted and snaked about, almost as if alive.
He couldn't think of a scarier, most depressing and gloomy place if he'd tried. And, honestly, really the very last thing he wanted to do right then was try to think of that!
Suddenly he felt his breath catch, felt his eyes widen like saucers behind his glasses, as he glanced down at his hands. They had to be his hands; they were attached to his arms, after all. And then he noticed his arms, and his mind started whirling again, leaving him feeling dizzy and lightheaded.
One of those elusive memories flitted by, lingering just long enough to confirm what he'd already, instinctively knew. Neither his hands nor his arms were supposed to be brown. A uniform, smooth and unblemished bark brown, except for his nails, which were a somewhat lighter, acorn-ish brown. He slowly pushed up on his knees, staring wide-eyed at his hands, turning them palm-up then palm-down, just staring at them.
And then his jaw dropped even further when he rubbed his fingers against his other arm. It not only looked like wood, it felt like wood, too! Like finely-sanded and highly polished wood. But wood that also felt warm, and alive. Slowly he clambered off his knees and stood up, feeling his legs wobbly from shock, and also feeling oddly . . . unbalanced. As if he wasn't quite used to his legs and arms and body. Which was silly, of course. But that's what it felt like!
He quickly noticed it wasn't just his hands and arms that looked that way. All of him that he could check, save for his fingernails, was that same, uniform color. Like he'd been dipped in stain or something. He suspected his toenails would look like his fingernails but, as he was currently wearing boot moccasins, he couldn't tell. Then that jogged another memory almost loose.
Whatever he was wearing felt . . . odd. Unusual. Why, he couldn't quite say. But they obviously were his clothes, because they did fit him. Perfectly, in fact. First off the boot moccasins. They looked like Indian-style (and for a moment 'Indian' meant something to him before that memory fluttered off lost again) boot moccasins, just of sturdier leather. And brown; what a surprise he thought. Then there was a short-sleeved tunic, the bottom reaching just above his knees with a split at front and back. That, too, was brown, a lighter, warmer color, and felt like coarse linen. Coarse, just not rough; it wasn't like burlap or canvas, but it wasn't as fine-woven as silk. There was a leather belt and a small leather belt pouch, too. Again brown.
Pushing his glasses back up he slowly looked around, wrapping arms around him as he shuddered. He didn't like this place, nope, not at all! And making that worse was having no idea, none at all, of where he was, or why he was there and, most importantly, who he was. But the one thing he was for certain sure about was he didn't want to stay here.
Things quickly disappeared off in that gloomy fog, but what he could see around him wasn't exactly relieving. He was standing atop some sort of, well, road. More of a causeway, actually, since it seemed as much bridge as it did road, twisting and winding it's way over frightening, yawning gullies and chasms and through rolling, bare hills. It wasn't level, either, so he had three choices: walk off the side and into that scary, frightening woods (which didn't at all appeal to him), or plod uphill, or trudge downhill. He was already walking the downhill way before he realized it, almost as if something was urging him along. And since it was easier to walk down than up he just kept plodding along, keeping to the dead center of the rough, cracked and dusty road, and far away from the edges.
As he walked along he slowly became aware of some unsettling things. There were no bushes or shrubs or flowers. There was no grass. There wasn't even weeds! And a road this old, this decrepit, should certainly have weeds sprouting up! That's what weeds did, after all! But all he saw were a few old, dead trees. At least they looked dead. They were bare of leaves, their branches thrusting skeletally up into the air, trunks grayish and hoary with age. He'd have thought they were just bare from winter, except it didn't feel like winter. Plus there were no sign of fallen leaves or other litter. Pausing at one he looked at it closely. Poor thing, it felt more like it was still alive, but just too hopeless and despairing to sprout leaves.
And while there was no sign of life, he just couldn't shake the feeling of eyes upon him. Eyes that meant him no good will. Eyes that gleefully followed him, wicked eyes that patiently waited, knowing he would soon be theirs.
He'd been walking for some time, feeling more and more scared and alone and lost, when he finally jerked to a stop, his ears perking forwards. He'd heard a noise, the very first sound he'd heard save for his own breathing and the scuff of his moccasins. And it was a very odd sound, too. And one that was quickly growing louder, which meant closer.
Within half a minute he jerked again, his mind making sense of the noise, a semi-rhythmic rumble, then grind, then burped cough. It sounded like a engine in very bad need of a tune-up, an engine straining to make its way up the sloped road . . . and towards him.
For a moment he was delighted to hear that, for that meant he'd finally see someone. But no sooner had he recognized that sound than a terrible sense of fear descended upon him. He didn't know why. He couldn't explain it. He just knew, beyond any question, beyond any shadow of a doubt, that he needed to hide. That the very last thing he wanted to happen was to be spotted and seen. He didn't think, he didn't guess; he knew.
Panicked he looked left, then right, then all around, feeling his chest tighten with fear, his heart pound with dread. He had to hide, he had to! But there was nowhere to hide!
Looking back the way he'd came he saw a wizened, bent tree just off the side of the road about a hundred feet away. He was already racing up the road before he'd even thought about it. It wasn't much but it would have to do. His only other choices were jumping off one side of the road and down into a gully or racing off the other side and into that awful, frightening woods, and neither of those appealed to him in the least!
Skidding to a stop he leaped off the road and dashed over to the tree, crouching behind it and pressing tight. It wasn't much but, between the twilight and the gloom, surely whoever (or whatever, he thought with a shiver) it was wouldn't possibly see him as they drove by.
Whoever (or whatever) he'd pictured it could be the reality hit him like a punch to the tummy. He literally gasped, doubling over in shock before shaking like a leaf in one of Stormy's tempests. One, two, three, right in a row, he felt the sledgehammer jolt of disbelieving recognition.
First was the vehicle that coughed and sputtered and belched its way towards him. His eyes rounded spotting that. It . . . it couldn't be! It just couldn't!
But it was, and certainly could be. There was no mistaking the Grunge Buggy for anything else. And that meant . . .
That meant the creature driving it had to be Lurky. And where there was Lurky . . .
"Keep going, keep going oh please just keep going," he whispered, quaking in terror as he hid, that tree suddenly feeling much too small to be any use at all in hiding. He had no idea at all, at all!, how he knew what that was and who they were. But knew them he did, and not for a moment did he question that absolute conviction.
"Stop! Stop! I said stop, lame-brain!" he heard a voice yell out as the Grunge Buggy sputtered by, and he whimpered, pressing tighter against the tree, willing himself to, somehow, go invisible. Or something! With an awful screech the Grunge Buggy fishtailed to a stop, not twenty feet away from him!
"What are we stoppin' for Murky? We're not back at da Pits yet."
"I know that banana brain!" growled who could only be Murky. "That's part of my Master plan!" he sniggered.
Daring a peek around the tree he quickly pulled his head back, wishing he hadn't. For jogging right towards him was Murky!
"Oh right! The Master Plan!" Lurky repeated. "Oh boy oh boy oh boy! The Master Plan!" he chortled. "Uh . . . what's da Master Plan Murky?"
By then Murky had stopped right by the tree, and he was certain he'd been seen. Murky was only five or so feet away, after all! He pushed tighter against the tree, his heart pounding so hard and so fast he was certain Murky could hear it! He kept pushing and pushing, trying harder and harder to mold himself to the trunk and keep from being seen, his eyes tightly closed as if that could help, too.
Then he almost gasped, feeling the oddest, most incredible sensation. His eyes popped open, then widened to saucers. He was staring right at Murky! Right in his eyes, in fact! But Murky wasn't acting at all like he could see him! Which was a very very good thing, he thought with an intense shudder. For Murky wasn't looking at all comical or clownish. Didn't look at all like a buffoon or goof. There was a manic, truly wicked and evil gleam to his eyes. Eyes that glittered with a twisted sense of genius.
He didn't doubt at all, at all, that Murky couldn't invent or create a 'plan' that would ever work or succeed, true. But that was a bit hard to believe when you were unfortunate enough to be staring right into those eyes of his!
Murky lay down on his belly, right at the side of the road, then leaned way over. "What's the first thing that Rainbow brat or those Color Kids do after I've been to Rainbow Land and taken something or someone?"
Lurky scratched his head. "Uhhh . . . uhhhh . . . tricked you and took it back?"
"Grrrrrrrr," Murky growled, a literal growl at that, a ferocious scowl on his face. "No, bird-brain! Not that!" Reaching down he carefully prized a small cobble from the side of the road, revealing a dank, dark hole. He stuffed something small and folded up inside then jammed the cobble back in place. Standing up he dusted his hands off then glared at Lurky.
"The first thing they do is come right to the Pits to get it back. They always do that. And they'll do the same thing this time! Except, this time . . . !" he hopped into the side car, leaning his head back and laughed and laughed. "To the Pits Lurky! We have a welcome to get ready!"
With a grinding of gears Lurky started up the Grunge Buggy, which belched a truly hideous, noxious cloud of exhaust before sputtering it's way up the road and quickly vanishing from sight.
"Whew!"
He gustily exhaled, his legs feeling like jelly. He had no idea how Murky had missed seeing him but he sure wasn't complaining, oh no! He just never would have thought that old tree had been big enough to hide behind!
"Oh wow!"
That was an awed whisper as suddenly he noticed something. Something very important. Something that, quite understandably, he'd overlooked before. He wasn't standing behind the tree. He was standing inside the tree!
He slowly looked around. Yup, no mistake. He was inside the tree. How, he had no idea. But he was. It didn't look, or feel, any different than it did standing in air. We-ell . . . just a little different, he decided after thinking hard on that. The 'air' felt a little bit, well, thicker. Not as thick as if moving through water, no. Nowhere near like that. Actually it was pretty hard to explain and, after a few moments, he simply shrugged and accepted it.
What was harder to accept was the slowly growing feeling of despair and hopelessness. Oh, he'd never see sunlight again. Never. And he was so dry and thirsty. And he'd never bud again, never feel springtime sap coursing through him ever again.
Hey, waitaminnute! Springtime sap? Bud again?
He was feeling the tree!
"I'm sorry," he whispered. "I wish I could help. But I don't even have water or I'd give you some. But don't give up, ok? If I can ever do anything for you I will. Promise."
A feeling like summer sunshine flowed over him for a moment, and suddenly he felt much better. Slowly stepping forwards he walked out of the tree, breathing a sigh of relief. He hadn't been at all sure he could do that (since he'd no idea how he'd managed to step inside to begin with) and was greatly relieved at how easy it was to just walk out.
Then again, walking out of the tree meant walking back into the Pits, which wasn't exactly what he'd chosen if he'd had that choice.
His knees still felt wobbly so he leaned back against the tree, especially since his mind felt just as wobbly. That had definitely been Murky Dismal and Lurky. Even if he hadn't recognized them they'd called each other that. And if they were Murky and Lurky than this was unquestionably the Pits. And that meant . . .
His breath caught in his throat. Then that meant there was also a Rainbow Land. And that was here, too!
Suddenly a wealth of names and images flooded his head. He gave a soft cry and fell to his knees, hands clapped to his head as they swamped his mind. Rainbow Brite. Starlite. Twink. Red Butler. Oh, and a whole host of others! That was bad enough but the truly disturbing, puzzling thing was that he felt he should already know them. Or know of them at any rate. This felt like staring off into a utterly black sky and seeing, one by one, stars appear, and somehow knowing what each one was as it flickered and flared into brilliant life.
Well, if Murky and Lurky were going that way, he reasoned, than rainbow Land should be that way. Pushing off from the tree he gave it a kindly, farewell pat to the hoary, gray trunk then started to clamber up onto the road. He'd feel a lot safer, and a lot less afraid and lost, once he was in Rainbow Land, that was for sure!
But something made him pause.
"The first thing they do is come right to the Pits to get it back. They always do that. And they'll do the same thing this time! Except, this time . . . !"
He remembered Murky's gloating, gleeful laughter. He had something terrible and wicked in mind, and he wondered what, if anything, that had to do with what he'd tucked away and hidden behind that stone.
Honestly, one of the very last things he wanted to do was play around with anything Murky had touched. Whatever was behind that stone was, like as not, some sort of evil, diabolical trap. Nibbling his lip he considered things. If it was meant as a trap, he considered, it was a rather subtle one. After all, it wasn't at all likely anyone would ever notice that stone. Not from up on the road, anyway. And even from down here it was just one stone amongst many. So what was the point?
Taking a deep breath he reached out, lower lip between his teeth as he grasped the stone. Wiggling it back and forth he carefully eased it free, revealing a dark opening. Swallowing hard he reached inside. With his luck it was probably a huge rat . . . or something even worse.
But to his vast relief all he felt was something soft. Taking hold he pulled it out . . .
Then dropped the stone as his jaw dropped . . . as it unrolled . . . as it unfurled into a long, wide rainbow ribbon with a five pointed gold star at one end.
-
Chibi Rachy
- Posts: 2533
- Joined: Thu Jan 22, 2009 1:51 am
- Location: West Virginia
- Contact:
Re: Brownie
It seems like a good start!
I would be interested to see where you take this and what happens. Keep on writing...there is a serious need for Rainbow Brite fanfic authors for sure. Are you considering posting it on fanfiction.net at some point?
I would be interested to see where you take this and what happens. Keep on writing...there is a serious need for Rainbow Brite fanfic authors for sure. Are you considering posting it on fanfiction.net at some point?
"If you're obsessed with your yesterday then you're destined to repeat it." - Ariel of Icon for Hire
-
TheWendybird
- Posts: 768
- Joined: Mon Feb 23, 2009 3:17 am
- Location: Neverland!
- Contact:
Re: Brownie
I like! Keep it up!
*~*~Krista~*~*
Mrs. Starvoyager as of 11/22/09 :D
"Hail Stormy full of fury! Rainbow is with Thee!"
Mrs. Starvoyager as of 11/22/09 :D
"Hail Stormy full of fury! Rainbow is with Thee!"
Re: Brownie
Thank you both for your kind words! Hopefully you'll continue enjoying things as they develop!
If I had any idea what fanfiction.net was I'd answer.Chibi Rachy wrote:Are you considering posting it on fanfiction.net at some point?
Re: Brownie
There was no possible way this could be what it looked like, he thought with astonishment and awe. But it had to be. It just couldn't be anything else. Murky might be able to create colored things (he'd made a Rainbow Brite robot once, after all, for example) but there was just no way he could duplicate the, well, 'feel'. And there was just something about this belt that he knew, just knew, meant it was the real one.
He was actually holding Rainbow Brite's magical Color Belt!
For a moment it seemed as if the gloom of the Pits had faded and vanished. There was no doubt he felt immensely cheered up even though he was still stuck in the Pits! But that euphoria rapidly faded as he held the belt over upturned palms and stared at it. If he had the belt . . . then that meant Rainbow Brite didn't. And if she didn't have the belt . . .
A terrible shudder went through him at that. There was no way, never ever ever! Rainbow Brite would willingly surrender her belt. Which meant that Murky had somehow taken it from her. Again. And that never meant anything good.
Now why he would have hidden it as he had instead of keeping it and taking it back with him to the Pits puzzled him. But more important right now than figuring out puzzles was returning Rainbow's belt to her as quickly as he could. Rolling up the Color Belt he tucked it into his belt pouch for safekeeping. Figuring out the puzzle could come later, when there was time for that. So he started jogging down the road, opposite the direction Murky and Lurky had gone. He ran, then jogged, then walked when his side got a stitch, but he never stopped moving. He'd no idea just how far it was to Rainbow Land but hoped it wasn't much further. All it would take is for Murky or Lurky to take a peek back along this road and spot him and his goose would be cooked!
Turning a sharp corner he abruptly came to a stop, his feet actually skidding. He wasn't the only one to come to a screeching halt either. He found himself face to face with a vibrantly red-headed boy who was leading a mixed group of other kids and sprites. And again as recognition hit him he felt his legs grow wobbly, felt his mind start spinning.
"Who are you?" the boy asked, belligerently standing there and blocking the path, fisted hands on his hips and looking for all the world as if he was defending the group. Which is what he was doing, he realized. "And what are you doing here?"
It really didn't help that the sprites behind him were nervously chattering away. Their voices were high-pitched and their words overran each other. "Who is that?" "What is that?" "Is he dangerous?" "Murky's not there too, is he?" "What should we do?" "What's going on?"
He clapped hands over ears again, partly to quiet that shrill, unexpected din, and partly in the vain but hopeful attempt of getting his head to stop swimming and spinning. 'You'd think I'd be getting used to repeated shocks by now,' he thought.
"Well?" the boy who could only be Red Butler impatiently pressed while the rest of the Color Kids protectively huddled together along with the small group of chattering sprites.
"I . . . I—," he stuttered. Who was he, after all? He couldn't remember! "I—," don't know is what he started to say, but instead what came out was, "I'm Brownie."
Red snorted, looking even more impatient if that was possible. "And what are you doing here?"
"I don't know!" Brownie wailed. "I . . . all I remember is waking up. Back there," he gestured up the road. "I don't remember anything else. Well, not really," he amended.
"Not really?" a soft voice piped up from the group. Glancing past Red, Brownie noticed Violet peeking around Buddy Blue. "What do you remember? Do you have amnesia? Oh, well, if you did you wouldn't remember having that I suppose."
Red cut her off with a chopping motion of one hand, and about then Brownie realized something else: he was staring eye to eye with Red Butler. And that just didn't seem or feel right, although the moment that sensation occurred to him that, too, just like his memories, seemed to evaporate.
"A likely story!" came an officious voice, as the most beautiful horse he'd ever seen (which, considering he couldn't remember much at all, was also, for now, the first horse he'd seen; even so, there was just something about this one that, well . . . yanno?) pushed his way to the fore and stood next to Red. "You probably can't remember anything because Murky just made you. Hmf! Like we'd fall for that!"
This was all coming at him way too fast. His head was hurting again, this time bad enough that little sparkles of light were flashing in his eyes, and his tummy, well . . . his tummy was all achy-queasy too. "No! No, he didn't!" he managed to groan out, clutching his head again. "I don't know why I'm here or much of anything else, but one thing I know for sure is Murky didn't make me."
"We don't have time to chat!" Buddy called out from the group. The sprites were still chattering away and making Brownie's head ache even more, and he was desperately trying to think. It was like there was something in the back of his head, something really important, that needed to come out but for the life of him he was too confused and stunned and disoriented to think clearly. "We have to get Rainbow's belt back, and soon! We only have until nightfall, and not even Moonglow can stop the night from coming on time!"
Like that a sudden pain struck Brownie, right behind the eyes. With a groan he sank to his knees. "Wait, please!" he managed to whimper. "I've got her belt!"
Red snorted. "Yeah, ri-iiiight. Tell us another one. Someone we've never seen, who just happens to look like a Color Kid," he disdainfully snorted again, "—if you could call brown a color, that is; Lurky probably thinks it is, after all— and just happens to have 'no memory', just happens to have Rainbow's belt. That's just a bit too many 'just happens' for me! If that's the best Murky can come up with this time, this won't be any trouble at all. Come on everyone!" Red called out, waving them to go on with him.
"No, wait! I'm telling the truth! Just look!" Brownie fumbled in his belt pouch for the Color Belt tucked inside. But Red wasn't having any of this.
"Starlite! Watch him! Don't let him follow. Once we get far enough ahead you come gallop and catch up with us."
Starlite tossed his head, his glorious rainbow-hued mane shimmering even there in the Pits. "I'll make sure he doesn't follow. No creature or invention of Murky Dismal's will get past the most magnificent horse in the universe!"
There was nothing Brownie could do or say. All he could do was stand there and helplessly watch everyone race up the path. He begged with Starlite; he pleaded and implored. But Starlite had the (proverbial) bit in his teeth and was having none of it. Brownie even told Starlite what little he'd overheard of Murky's plans.
"The first thing they do is come right to the Pits to get it back. They always do that. And they'll do the same thing this time! Except, this time . . . !"
"Don't you see Starlite? He expects them to go there! He wants them to go there! And they don't have to because what they're looking for isn't there! It's here!"
Reaching back inside his belt pouch he withdrew the Color belt. "See?" he cried, holding it up. Surely Starlite should recognize it!
Alas for Brownie, Murky was quite known for counterfeiting things. Perhaps if a Sprite, or a Color Kid, had found the belt in similar circumstances, things would be different. But they hadn't, and so they weren't.
Well, there was no point in further pleading he dully realized. Starlite wasn't listening, and that was that. He glanced up at the sky, trying to see how close to nightfall it was, but the Pits was too gloomy to reveal anything of the sky above. Brownie had no idea at all what importance nightfall had concerning the Color Belt, but what he did know was asking Starlite would be pointless.
Rolling the belt back up he carefully stored it back in his belt pouch before turning away and starting back down the path. He didn't bother saying goodbye to Starlite although, before he took more than a couple of steps he did turn around and softly murmur, "Good luck. I hope you won't need it but I'm pretty sure you will." Starlite lifted his nose regally in the air, disdainfully snorted, reared up then galloped off.
Well, he thought, at least with all seven Color Kids heading up the path, along with a . . . just what did you call it? A spangle of sprites? Well, somehow he didn't think he needed to worry about Murky spotting him now!
What he was worrying about was reaching Rainbow Land in time. He still didn't know how far away that was. Or where, exactly, it was. And then it wasn't just reaching Rainbow Land but getting to the Color Castle after that. Assuming that's where Rainbow Brite was, of course.
He was already tired and quickly getting winded again. Darn it, why couldn't he be as athletic as Buddy Blue or Patty O'Green? He bet neither of those two would get winded from a run like this! Pausing a moment to catch his breath —and rub the stitch in his side— Brownie wished he had a horse. Softly, sadly sighing, he remembered having a horse once. Although the memory of where and how and why was fleeting, quickly disappearing like all the others, this time the actual memory of his horse stayed with him. Oh that would go over well, he thought. I can just picture their expressions if I had a horse! Jeez!
Still, he couldn't get the image of his horse out of his mind. He remembered him like it was yesterday. Remembered grooming him. Riding him. Although the memories were sorta foggy in places. Actually, foggiest where it came to remembering himself, and much clearer when it came to remembering his hors—
*Wham*
Rounding a corner at a jog he ran right into something. Ran into it so hard he bounced back, landing on his rump. Ran into it so hard his nose felt broke and he saw stars. Actual, literal stars, too, he realized! Tiny twinkling stars that circled his head, gradually fading.
Groaning he sat up, gently touching his tender nose. Then felt his eyes widen as he found himself staring at a pair of brown, furred legs. He looked up. And up. And up. Then his breath caught as his eyes locked onto a pair of huge, very deep, liquid brown eyes.
"Sssssam?" he stuttered, pushing himself up. "Is . . . is that you?" he whispered, sounding awestruck and stunned.
A huge blocky head lowered down, then a velvety soft nose gently touched Brownie's chest. The horse —for that's what was standing there— softly whickered, sounding almost amused.
A long time ago (or so those flickering, fleeting memories seemed to indicate) he'd once owned a horse. A big, handsome bay Belgian, with wheaten, flaxen mane and tail. He'd had only two noticeable spots to his coat: a small cream-colored star (not an actual five-pointed star like you might find here, just a small round spot) on his forehead and another, slightly larger oval one on his left flank. Brownie's eyes widened and widened as he slowly stood up, throbbing nose totally forgotten as he stared at the horse before him. It simply couldn't be Sam. But if it wasn't him, it was his identical twin or a perfect duplicate.
"Sam?" Brownie whispered, reaching up a small trembling hand and gently cupping the blocky muzzle before him. The horse softly whickered, almost as if replying. Which was really silly, after all.
There was no comparison between Sam and Starlite save both were horses. Where Starlite was lean and fleet and, well, magnificent, Sam was huge and bulky and blocky. He was a draft breed after all. In fact, Belgians looked like slightly smaller versions of Clydesdales. They even had feathers over their hooves, although not as thick and heavy. But for all that massiveness there was a grace to him as well. No one would ever confuse his size with clumsiness or ungainliness.
Just how big he was suddenly became apparent when Brownie really looked at Sam. A fleeting memory flickered for a moment, one where he was standing alongside his horse, his head just about level with Sam's withers. Well, that certainly wasn't the case now! Now, the top of his head didn't even reach the bottom of Sam's barrel! How the heck was he supposed to mount??
Assuming he should mount, he abruptly stilled. Running (literally; Brownie rubbed his sore, tender nose) into the horse he used to have like this just seemed too . . . convenient? What if this was a trick of Murky's? Some sort of trap? Maybe anyone who desperately needed something and thought of it would have it appear? That sounded like something Murky would think of. Although, well . . . it also sounded like something too clever and complicated for Murky to actually pull off and succeed.
Then again, Brownie really didn't know all that much about Murky. All he had to go by were the stories someone had told him, once, and very long ago. Brownie blinked at that, then frowned and stamped his foot as that memory vanished as quickly as it had appeared. Darnnit, he was getting really tired of that!
Sam butted his head gently against Brownie's chest as he stood there dithering, and without thinking about it he reached up and started scratching just behind Sam's jaw. Sam's eyes softly closed and he gave a blissful sigh, and that abruptly jerked Brownie back from his musings. That was exactly where he liked being scratched the best, and not even Murky Dismal would have known that. Somehow —and he didn't have any idea how or why, not at all— this really was Sam!
Tipping his head way way back Brownie looked way up. He might have settled the issue whether this was really his horse or not, but he still had the problem of figuring out how to get way the heck up there on Sam's back! However did Rainbow manage mounting Starlite??
Sam gave an amused snort then, quite gracefully, lowered himself down, forelegs first, until he was kneeling. "Oooo! Thanks!" Brownie happily said, eyes lighting up. "That'll be a big help!" And it was, too, although he still had to clamber and climb his way up onto Sam's back. Once atop, though, two more not-so-trivial matters became apparent. The first was that Sam was a rather big horse. And big didn't mean just tall; it meant wide, too! Brownie simply couldn't sit astraddle at all. His legs stuck out in front, draped against Sam's neck and dangling down in front. Not exactly the most comfortable or secure of perches!
Especially when you considered matter number two. Which was, more accurately, two and three. For Sam, of course, didn't have a saddle. And while Brownie had ridden his horse bareback quite often, he hadn't done so at the size he now was. And complicating that was Sam's roached mane, which was trimmed very short and resembled a bristle brush rather than a long, glorious mane like Starlite's. There wasn't very much at all to hold onto, and when Brownie looked to the side, then down . . . and down . . . and down . . . he swallowed very hard, audibly gulping. It was a very long way down! Much longer than he remembered!
Sam softly whickered, lifting up a dinner-plate sized hoof and gently setting it back down again. There was no mistaking the meaning: 'Are you ready yet?' Well . . . no, not really. But sitting way up here wasn't getting him any closer to Rainbow Land so, with another deep swallow, Brownie nodded. "Let's go boy," he tremulously whispered, clutching the little bit of mane left at the very base.
This isn't too bad, Brownie thought, as Sam slowly turned about until facing down the road then started slowly walking. "Eep!" he squeaked, clutching tighter as Sam slowly shifted into a sitting trot, then increased to an extended one. Poor Brownie started bouncing up and down, struggling to find his balance and post along with the motion. He didn't have to struggle long, however, for Sam kept accelerating, shifting into a (thankfully!) much smoother canter. But while it was smoother . . . it was also much, much faster!
Ta-Ta-Tum! Ta-Ta-Tum! Ta-Ta-Tum! The sounds of hooves were a rhythmic tattoo pounding against the road, and Brownie took one look at the speed they were moving and squeaked again, tightly closing his eyes and, leaning forward, wrapping arms even tighter around Sam's massive neck. Please don't gallop, please don't gallop! he mentally chanted, with utter fervent sincerity. Sam whickered again, an amused but kindly sound.
Because his eyes were as tightly closed as Murky Dismal's heart Brownie didn't see the first glimpse of Rainbow Land appear at the end of the road. In fact, it wasn't until Sam cantered past the roiling mists at the end of the Pits and into Rainbow Land itself that Brownie was aware they'd reached there. But even with his eyes closed he realized they'd made it.
The moment they passed the border suddenly he felt his spirits lift. He felt the warmth of golden sunlight on him, smelled the fragrance of flowers that abundantly bloomed everywhere in a wealth and riot of color. And when he did open his eyes at last . . .
"Oh my!" he breathed, an awed whisper of wondrous joy and delight. Never, ever could he have imagined this! It was beyond words, beyond description: Rainbow Land truly needed seeing to be believed!
Sitting up he gazed around in wide-eyed enchantment, forgetting in the moment his precarious perch. He gazed all around as scenery whipped by, his eyes drinking everything in like a dry sponge dipped in a pail of water. Oh, this was all so marvelous! Clapping his hands he caroled in joy.
Then suddenly that elation vanished, whipped away and replaced by dread. That had to be the Color Castle up ahead. It simply couldn't be anything else. But that wasn't what had alarmed and dismayed him. No, it was the looming, roiling, seething mass of cloud overhead the Castle that had his throat abruptly tighten. That, and a quick glance at the horizon, where the sun was sinking. It didn't look very long at all until night would fall it seemed. He swallowed hard, clutched Sam tighter and urged him even faster, pressing down his fear of that, more concerned with reaching the Color Castle —and Rainbow Brite— in time. He had no idea what that awful cloud of Murky's was supposed to do, but whatever that was it couldn't possibly be good! Although . . .
Although the closer they came to the Castle (and by now Sam was moving very very fast!) the odder that cloud looked. It was quite brooding, threatening even. It just didn't look, well, menacing? Still, Brownie was quite sure it didn't belong there. And so, quite obviously, it was a sign of something dreadfully wrong.
Hopefully, whatever it portended, once he found Rainbow Brite and returned her belt everything would be fixed!
He was actually holding Rainbow Brite's magical Color Belt!
For a moment it seemed as if the gloom of the Pits had faded and vanished. There was no doubt he felt immensely cheered up even though he was still stuck in the Pits! But that euphoria rapidly faded as he held the belt over upturned palms and stared at it. If he had the belt . . . then that meant Rainbow Brite didn't. And if she didn't have the belt . . .
A terrible shudder went through him at that. There was no way, never ever ever! Rainbow Brite would willingly surrender her belt. Which meant that Murky had somehow taken it from her. Again. And that never meant anything good.
Now why he would have hidden it as he had instead of keeping it and taking it back with him to the Pits puzzled him. But more important right now than figuring out puzzles was returning Rainbow's belt to her as quickly as he could. Rolling up the Color Belt he tucked it into his belt pouch for safekeeping. Figuring out the puzzle could come later, when there was time for that. So he started jogging down the road, opposite the direction Murky and Lurky had gone. He ran, then jogged, then walked when his side got a stitch, but he never stopped moving. He'd no idea just how far it was to Rainbow Land but hoped it wasn't much further. All it would take is for Murky or Lurky to take a peek back along this road and spot him and his goose would be cooked!
Turning a sharp corner he abruptly came to a stop, his feet actually skidding. He wasn't the only one to come to a screeching halt either. He found himself face to face with a vibrantly red-headed boy who was leading a mixed group of other kids and sprites. And again as recognition hit him he felt his legs grow wobbly, felt his mind start spinning.
"Who are you?" the boy asked, belligerently standing there and blocking the path, fisted hands on his hips and looking for all the world as if he was defending the group. Which is what he was doing, he realized. "And what are you doing here?"
It really didn't help that the sprites behind him were nervously chattering away. Their voices were high-pitched and their words overran each other. "Who is that?" "What is that?" "Is he dangerous?" "Murky's not there too, is he?" "What should we do?" "What's going on?"
He clapped hands over ears again, partly to quiet that shrill, unexpected din, and partly in the vain but hopeful attempt of getting his head to stop swimming and spinning. 'You'd think I'd be getting used to repeated shocks by now,' he thought.
"Well?" the boy who could only be Red Butler impatiently pressed while the rest of the Color Kids protectively huddled together along with the small group of chattering sprites.
"I . . . I—," he stuttered. Who was he, after all? He couldn't remember! "I—," don't know is what he started to say, but instead what came out was, "I'm Brownie."
Red snorted, looking even more impatient if that was possible. "And what are you doing here?"
"I don't know!" Brownie wailed. "I . . . all I remember is waking up. Back there," he gestured up the road. "I don't remember anything else. Well, not really," he amended.
"Not really?" a soft voice piped up from the group. Glancing past Red, Brownie noticed Violet peeking around Buddy Blue. "What do you remember? Do you have amnesia? Oh, well, if you did you wouldn't remember having that I suppose."
Red cut her off with a chopping motion of one hand, and about then Brownie realized something else: he was staring eye to eye with Red Butler. And that just didn't seem or feel right, although the moment that sensation occurred to him that, too, just like his memories, seemed to evaporate.
"A likely story!" came an officious voice, as the most beautiful horse he'd ever seen (which, considering he couldn't remember much at all, was also, for now, the first horse he'd seen; even so, there was just something about this one that, well . . . yanno?) pushed his way to the fore and stood next to Red. "You probably can't remember anything because Murky just made you. Hmf! Like we'd fall for that!"
This was all coming at him way too fast. His head was hurting again, this time bad enough that little sparkles of light were flashing in his eyes, and his tummy, well . . . his tummy was all achy-queasy too. "No! No, he didn't!" he managed to groan out, clutching his head again. "I don't know why I'm here or much of anything else, but one thing I know for sure is Murky didn't make me."
"We don't have time to chat!" Buddy called out from the group. The sprites were still chattering away and making Brownie's head ache even more, and he was desperately trying to think. It was like there was something in the back of his head, something really important, that needed to come out but for the life of him he was too confused and stunned and disoriented to think clearly. "We have to get Rainbow's belt back, and soon! We only have until nightfall, and not even Moonglow can stop the night from coming on time!"
Like that a sudden pain struck Brownie, right behind the eyes. With a groan he sank to his knees. "Wait, please!" he managed to whimper. "I've got her belt!"
Red snorted. "Yeah, ri-iiiight. Tell us another one. Someone we've never seen, who just happens to look like a Color Kid," he disdainfully snorted again, "—if you could call brown a color, that is; Lurky probably thinks it is, after all— and just happens to have 'no memory', just happens to have Rainbow's belt. That's just a bit too many 'just happens' for me! If that's the best Murky can come up with this time, this won't be any trouble at all. Come on everyone!" Red called out, waving them to go on with him.
"No, wait! I'm telling the truth! Just look!" Brownie fumbled in his belt pouch for the Color Belt tucked inside. But Red wasn't having any of this.
"Starlite! Watch him! Don't let him follow. Once we get far enough ahead you come gallop and catch up with us."
Starlite tossed his head, his glorious rainbow-hued mane shimmering even there in the Pits. "I'll make sure he doesn't follow. No creature or invention of Murky Dismal's will get past the most magnificent horse in the universe!"
There was nothing Brownie could do or say. All he could do was stand there and helplessly watch everyone race up the path. He begged with Starlite; he pleaded and implored. But Starlite had the (proverbial) bit in his teeth and was having none of it. Brownie even told Starlite what little he'd overheard of Murky's plans.
"The first thing they do is come right to the Pits to get it back. They always do that. And they'll do the same thing this time! Except, this time . . . !"
"Don't you see Starlite? He expects them to go there! He wants them to go there! And they don't have to because what they're looking for isn't there! It's here!"
Reaching back inside his belt pouch he withdrew the Color belt. "See?" he cried, holding it up. Surely Starlite should recognize it!
Alas for Brownie, Murky was quite known for counterfeiting things. Perhaps if a Sprite, or a Color Kid, had found the belt in similar circumstances, things would be different. But they hadn't, and so they weren't.
Well, there was no point in further pleading he dully realized. Starlite wasn't listening, and that was that. He glanced up at the sky, trying to see how close to nightfall it was, but the Pits was too gloomy to reveal anything of the sky above. Brownie had no idea at all what importance nightfall had concerning the Color Belt, but what he did know was asking Starlite would be pointless.
Rolling the belt back up he carefully stored it back in his belt pouch before turning away and starting back down the path. He didn't bother saying goodbye to Starlite although, before he took more than a couple of steps he did turn around and softly murmur, "Good luck. I hope you won't need it but I'm pretty sure you will." Starlite lifted his nose regally in the air, disdainfully snorted, reared up then galloped off.
Well, he thought, at least with all seven Color Kids heading up the path, along with a . . . just what did you call it? A spangle of sprites? Well, somehow he didn't think he needed to worry about Murky spotting him now!
What he was worrying about was reaching Rainbow Land in time. He still didn't know how far away that was. Or where, exactly, it was. And then it wasn't just reaching Rainbow Land but getting to the Color Castle after that. Assuming that's where Rainbow Brite was, of course.
He was already tired and quickly getting winded again. Darn it, why couldn't he be as athletic as Buddy Blue or Patty O'Green? He bet neither of those two would get winded from a run like this! Pausing a moment to catch his breath —and rub the stitch in his side— Brownie wished he had a horse. Softly, sadly sighing, he remembered having a horse once. Although the memory of where and how and why was fleeting, quickly disappearing like all the others, this time the actual memory of his horse stayed with him. Oh that would go over well, he thought. I can just picture their expressions if I had a horse! Jeez!
Still, he couldn't get the image of his horse out of his mind. He remembered him like it was yesterday. Remembered grooming him. Riding him. Although the memories were sorta foggy in places. Actually, foggiest where it came to remembering himself, and much clearer when it came to remembering his hors—
*Wham*
Rounding a corner at a jog he ran right into something. Ran into it so hard he bounced back, landing on his rump. Ran into it so hard his nose felt broke and he saw stars. Actual, literal stars, too, he realized! Tiny twinkling stars that circled his head, gradually fading.
Groaning he sat up, gently touching his tender nose. Then felt his eyes widen as he found himself staring at a pair of brown, furred legs. He looked up. And up. And up. Then his breath caught as his eyes locked onto a pair of huge, very deep, liquid brown eyes.
"Sssssam?" he stuttered, pushing himself up. "Is . . . is that you?" he whispered, sounding awestruck and stunned.
A huge blocky head lowered down, then a velvety soft nose gently touched Brownie's chest. The horse —for that's what was standing there— softly whickered, sounding almost amused.
A long time ago (or so those flickering, fleeting memories seemed to indicate) he'd once owned a horse. A big, handsome bay Belgian, with wheaten, flaxen mane and tail. He'd had only two noticeable spots to his coat: a small cream-colored star (not an actual five-pointed star like you might find here, just a small round spot) on his forehead and another, slightly larger oval one on his left flank. Brownie's eyes widened and widened as he slowly stood up, throbbing nose totally forgotten as he stared at the horse before him. It simply couldn't be Sam. But if it wasn't him, it was his identical twin or a perfect duplicate.
"Sam?" Brownie whispered, reaching up a small trembling hand and gently cupping the blocky muzzle before him. The horse softly whickered, almost as if replying. Which was really silly, after all.
There was no comparison between Sam and Starlite save both were horses. Where Starlite was lean and fleet and, well, magnificent, Sam was huge and bulky and blocky. He was a draft breed after all. In fact, Belgians looked like slightly smaller versions of Clydesdales. They even had feathers over their hooves, although not as thick and heavy. But for all that massiveness there was a grace to him as well. No one would ever confuse his size with clumsiness or ungainliness.
Just how big he was suddenly became apparent when Brownie really looked at Sam. A fleeting memory flickered for a moment, one where he was standing alongside his horse, his head just about level with Sam's withers. Well, that certainly wasn't the case now! Now, the top of his head didn't even reach the bottom of Sam's barrel! How the heck was he supposed to mount??
Assuming he should mount, he abruptly stilled. Running (literally; Brownie rubbed his sore, tender nose) into the horse he used to have like this just seemed too . . . convenient? What if this was a trick of Murky's? Some sort of trap? Maybe anyone who desperately needed something and thought of it would have it appear? That sounded like something Murky would think of. Although, well . . . it also sounded like something too clever and complicated for Murky to actually pull off and succeed.
Then again, Brownie really didn't know all that much about Murky. All he had to go by were the stories someone had told him, once, and very long ago. Brownie blinked at that, then frowned and stamped his foot as that memory vanished as quickly as it had appeared. Darnnit, he was getting really tired of that!
Sam butted his head gently against Brownie's chest as he stood there dithering, and without thinking about it he reached up and started scratching just behind Sam's jaw. Sam's eyes softly closed and he gave a blissful sigh, and that abruptly jerked Brownie back from his musings. That was exactly where he liked being scratched the best, and not even Murky Dismal would have known that. Somehow —and he didn't have any idea how or why, not at all— this really was Sam!
Tipping his head way way back Brownie looked way up. He might have settled the issue whether this was really his horse or not, but he still had the problem of figuring out how to get way the heck up there on Sam's back! However did Rainbow manage mounting Starlite??
Sam gave an amused snort then, quite gracefully, lowered himself down, forelegs first, until he was kneeling. "Oooo! Thanks!" Brownie happily said, eyes lighting up. "That'll be a big help!" And it was, too, although he still had to clamber and climb his way up onto Sam's back. Once atop, though, two more not-so-trivial matters became apparent. The first was that Sam was a rather big horse. And big didn't mean just tall; it meant wide, too! Brownie simply couldn't sit astraddle at all. His legs stuck out in front, draped against Sam's neck and dangling down in front. Not exactly the most comfortable or secure of perches!
Especially when you considered matter number two. Which was, more accurately, two and three. For Sam, of course, didn't have a saddle. And while Brownie had ridden his horse bareback quite often, he hadn't done so at the size he now was. And complicating that was Sam's roached mane, which was trimmed very short and resembled a bristle brush rather than a long, glorious mane like Starlite's. There wasn't very much at all to hold onto, and when Brownie looked to the side, then down . . . and down . . . and down . . . he swallowed very hard, audibly gulping. It was a very long way down! Much longer than he remembered!
Sam softly whickered, lifting up a dinner-plate sized hoof and gently setting it back down again. There was no mistaking the meaning: 'Are you ready yet?' Well . . . no, not really. But sitting way up here wasn't getting him any closer to Rainbow Land so, with another deep swallow, Brownie nodded. "Let's go boy," he tremulously whispered, clutching the little bit of mane left at the very base.
This isn't too bad, Brownie thought, as Sam slowly turned about until facing down the road then started slowly walking. "Eep!" he squeaked, clutching tighter as Sam slowly shifted into a sitting trot, then increased to an extended one. Poor Brownie started bouncing up and down, struggling to find his balance and post along with the motion. He didn't have to struggle long, however, for Sam kept accelerating, shifting into a (thankfully!) much smoother canter. But while it was smoother . . . it was also much, much faster!
Ta-Ta-Tum! Ta-Ta-Tum! Ta-Ta-Tum! The sounds of hooves were a rhythmic tattoo pounding against the road, and Brownie took one look at the speed they were moving and squeaked again, tightly closing his eyes and, leaning forward, wrapping arms even tighter around Sam's massive neck. Please don't gallop, please don't gallop! he mentally chanted, with utter fervent sincerity. Sam whickered again, an amused but kindly sound.
Because his eyes were as tightly closed as Murky Dismal's heart Brownie didn't see the first glimpse of Rainbow Land appear at the end of the road. In fact, it wasn't until Sam cantered past the roiling mists at the end of the Pits and into Rainbow Land itself that Brownie was aware they'd reached there. But even with his eyes closed he realized they'd made it.
The moment they passed the border suddenly he felt his spirits lift. He felt the warmth of golden sunlight on him, smelled the fragrance of flowers that abundantly bloomed everywhere in a wealth and riot of color. And when he did open his eyes at last . . .
"Oh my!" he breathed, an awed whisper of wondrous joy and delight. Never, ever could he have imagined this! It was beyond words, beyond description: Rainbow Land truly needed seeing to be believed!
Sitting up he gazed around in wide-eyed enchantment, forgetting in the moment his precarious perch. He gazed all around as scenery whipped by, his eyes drinking everything in like a dry sponge dipped in a pail of water. Oh, this was all so marvelous! Clapping his hands he caroled in joy.
Then suddenly that elation vanished, whipped away and replaced by dread. That had to be the Color Castle up ahead. It simply couldn't be anything else. But that wasn't what had alarmed and dismayed him. No, it was the looming, roiling, seething mass of cloud overhead the Castle that had his throat abruptly tighten. That, and a quick glance at the horizon, where the sun was sinking. It didn't look very long at all until night would fall it seemed. He swallowed hard, clutched Sam tighter and urged him even faster, pressing down his fear of that, more concerned with reaching the Color Castle —and Rainbow Brite— in time. He had no idea what that awful cloud of Murky's was supposed to do, but whatever that was it couldn't possibly be good! Although . . .
Although the closer they came to the Castle (and by now Sam was moving very very fast!) the odder that cloud looked. It was quite brooding, threatening even. It just didn't look, well, menacing? Still, Brownie was quite sure it didn't belong there. And so, quite obviously, it was a sign of something dreadfully wrong.
Hopefully, whatever it portended, once he found Rainbow Brite and returned her belt everything would be fixed!
Re: Brownie
It's a website for fanfic writers to post their work. And for fanfic lovers to go and read them. It's a huge community, been around for quite a while now, and is a great place to get critical and helpful feedback on your work.Brownie wrote:If I had any idea what fanfiction.net was I'd answer.
"I hope you know what you're doing, Rainbow."
"You still doubt me, after all this time?"
"I don't doubt," Krys said as he paused at the door. "I worry."
-Excerpt from my yet unnamed RB doujinshi.
"You still doubt me, after all this time?"
"I don't doubt," Krys said as he paused at the door. "I worry."
-Excerpt from my yet unnamed RB doujinshi.
-
Chibi Rachy
- Posts: 2533
- Joined: Thu Jan 22, 2009 1:51 am
- Location: West Virginia
- Contact:
Re: Brownie
Yes yes, and a good site too... I joined in 2001 and have been there since. You won't find much feedback in the Rainbow Brite section, as it's so small and there are barely over 100 fics there, but you will find a few readers perhaps. I don't get many reviews, but I do get a lot of views in this fandom. Robert Teague is a well-respected RB fan and he will leave feedback for you there. I think it'd be nice if you did feel like posting it there. There are so very few RB fanfics, and even less that are completely finished.FanChan wrote:It's a website for fanfic writers to post their work. And for fanfic lovers to go and read them. It's a huge community, been around for quite a while now, and is a great place to get critical and helpful feedback on your work.Brownie wrote:If I had any idea what fanfiction.net was I'd answer.
Keep up with your story. I am eager to see where you take it!
"If you're obsessed with your yesterday then you're destined to repeat it." - Ariel of Icon for Hire
Re: Brownie
I'm working on Chapter 3 at the moment. But if you really think this is worth posting on fanfiction.net, I'll register there and repost the chapters there, too. Not really sure if my writing's all that worthwhile though.
-
Chibi Rachy
- Posts: 2533
- Joined: Thu Jan 22, 2009 1:51 am
- Location: West Virginia
- Contact:
Re: Brownie
Trust me, it's good enough. I've seen all sorts, from the good to the bad to the so-terrible-why's-it-even-posted-here? stuff. It's well-thought out so far and seems very promising. Go ahead and post itBrownie wrote:I'm working on Chapter 3 at the moment. But if you really think this is worth posting on fanfiction.net, I'll register there and repost the chapters there, too. Not really sure if my writing's all that worthwhile though.
By the way, I'm DigiExpert on there."If you're obsessed with your yesterday then you're destined to repeat it." - Ariel of Icon for Hire