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“HIYA!”
The veritably ancient carriage creaked loudly, as if to cry out in pain as it stumbled over another rough patch of road. The chocobos pulling it grunted in solidarity. Blythe Pellbrook winced at the thought of having to make repairs to the cart. The poor thing had a tendency to crumble at even the slightest of pressures, and the chocobos were in full gallop today. Still, Blythe lingered on the thought.
Anything to stop thinking of the rubbery, rotting stench leaking out of her stomach. The scent of a drowned man.
Anything to stop thinking about the festering brand of her older brother burning through her flesh.
“HIYA!” Garrick cried again, with a crack of his watery whip. Mama tried to wrap her healing vapors around Blythe’s wound again, but the cart rumbled, making the cloud quiver as it slid from one side of Blythe’s abdomen to the other.
“Steady the cart, Garrick!” Mama hollered. She immediately returned to her soft voice, addressing Blythe. Mama stroked her daughter’s blond hair, moving it out of the little girl’s eyes. “Hold on, girl. You’re a strong one.”
The night was cold, but Blythe couldn’t stop sweating. Oswin wiped her brow again with his handkerchief, flashing another reassuring smile.
Blythe looked out the window wordlessly, too weak to thank Oswin. This was the farthest Blythe had ever been from home, though she was sure her older brothers had ventured further for training. The rolling hills were a quiet shade of lavender, the first wisps of sunlight sighing onto the horizon. The trees began to grow taller, yet more pleasant. The trees back home stretched for the clouds as if they were the hands of starving children, begging for salvation, their withered branches cracked and deformed under their own weight. But these trees were pretty.
“Where are we going, Mother?” Garrick shouted behind him, “We aren’t even heading towards Arcadia.”
“Just shut up and drive the damn cart!” Aldrich bellowed, “She’s getting worse.”
Mama shot Aldrich a glare, but didn’t yell at him. That was probably scarier than anything else that was happening to Blythe.
“The normal doctors can’t help her,” Mama shouted back, “But there’s a specialist who can.”
“And what sane man would be awake at this time of night?” Garrick grumbled beneath his breath.
The cart shuddered again as it roared past a stone slab. Blythe seemed to be the only one to notice. In her last moments of consciousness, Blythe tried to remember all those reading lessons she did with Mama. What did that sign say?
The cart released one, final creak of resignation as Garrick pulled the lever to brake the poor thing. The chocobos shook their heads in displeasure, the one on the left almost immediately collapsing to rest its tired legs. There was a dreamlike quality to this place, which betrayed the seriousness of the emergency. Something about fluorescent lights flushing your face at the break of dawn fills you with a sense of calm. After all, it was rare to find a building in the rather rural plains, let alone one with windows that let out a blinding, lifeless shade of yellow.
Ignoring the fascinating aesthetic of this 21st century clinic in a medieval landscape, Aldrich and Oswin threw open the carriage doors. Aldrich sprinted forward for the front door as Mama grasped tightly onto Blythe’s limp body with both arms, afraid to let go. Mama rushed after her oldest son, Oswin and Garrick close behind.
“We need a doctor!” Aldrich shouted, having kicked open the glass and steel door.
The Pellbrook children looked around in fascination. They were standing in a completely empty reception area. The floors and ceilings were lined with dull white linoleum, and the plaster walls were cheaply painted to look like wood. Steel beams were hanging from the ceiling, the insides carved out to house bulbs of absolutely stunningly bright light. The boys got headaches just from looking up. Garrick almost bumped into a bench of steel and cheap, blue leather.
Mama Pellbrook, confused by why her children stopped running, shouted, “Get out the damn way!”
Aldrich, alarmed, stepped to the side to let Mama rush forward, still gripping onto Blythe bridal-style. The Pellbrook boys snapped out of their reverie and ran after her.
Mama seemed to know where she was going. She turned left, entering a short corridor. Of the two pine doors at the end, she kicked down the one to the right, which was helpfully labeled “Physician”.
Inside, they found a man who appeared to be eating a bagel, despite his face being completely covered by a mask. The room looked much like the reception area they were just in. The left and right walls were lined with a cornucopia of grey plastic cupboards. The back wall was instead occupied with an uncomfortable-looking bed, wrapped in the same blue leather from outside. One sheet of paper, as long as it was thin, laid almost uselessly on top of the bed.
“Oh!” the doctor said, “Ariel Pellbrook. What a pleasant surprise- And children! Goodness, you have a full litter of-“
The physician’s eyes seemed to land on Blythe’s pale and limp body, which Mama slammed down on the paper-leather bed. Mama turned to the man, somehow glaring desperately.
“Please,” Mama gasped, “Help her.”
The man hesitated for one second. In the next moment, the bagel seemed to vanish as the man (who seemed to have instantaneously donned some blue latex gloves) drew bandages and some tiny steel tools.
“What happened to her?” the man said.
“Who the hell is this supposed to be?” Garrick asked incredulously. The physician seemed.. disappointingly normal, except for the strange mask.
“My name is Dr. McNinja,” the man snapped back, “I’ll be your doctor for the evening. I feel like that was pretty obvious. Now…”
Dr. McNinja took a pair of scissors and, in an impossibly deft motion, widened the hole in Blythe’s tunic, revealing the full nature of the injury. A green rot fizzled and writhed around her wound, as if a thousand tiny insects were crawling underneath her skin. Yet, despite how chaotically the rot seemed to twist, they never ventured outside of what was clearly a brand: a circle with a tidal wave inside.
“…what the hell happened to her?” Doc repeated.
The veritably ancient carriage creaked loudly, as if to cry out in pain as it stumbled over another rough patch of road. The chocobos pulling it grunted in solidarity. Blythe Pellbrook winced at the thought of having to make repairs to the cart. The poor thing had a tendency to crumble at even the slightest of pressures, and the chocobos were in full gallop today. Still, Blythe lingered on the thought.
Anything to stop thinking of the rubbery, rotting stench leaking out of her stomach. The scent of a drowned man.
Anything to stop thinking about the festering brand of her older brother burning through her flesh.
“HIYA!” Garrick cried again, with a crack of his watery whip. Mama tried to wrap her healing vapors around Blythe’s wound again, but the cart rumbled, making the cloud quiver as it slid from one side of Blythe’s abdomen to the other.
“Steady the cart, Garrick!” Mama hollered. She immediately returned to her soft voice, addressing Blythe. Mama stroked her daughter’s blond hair, moving it out of the little girl’s eyes. “Hold on, girl. You’re a strong one.”
The night was cold, but Blythe couldn’t stop sweating. Oswin wiped her brow again with his handkerchief, flashing another reassuring smile.
Blythe looked out the window wordlessly, too weak to thank Oswin. This was the farthest Blythe had ever been from home, though she was sure her older brothers had ventured further for training. The rolling hills were a quiet shade of lavender, the first wisps of sunlight sighing onto the horizon. The trees began to grow taller, yet more pleasant. The trees back home stretched for the clouds as if they were the hands of starving children, begging for salvation, their withered branches cracked and deformed under their own weight. But these trees were pretty.
“Where are we going, Mother?” Garrick shouted behind him, “We aren’t even heading towards Arcadia.”
“Just shut up and drive the damn cart!” Aldrich bellowed, “She’s getting worse.”
Mama shot Aldrich a glare, but didn’t yell at him. That was probably scarier than anything else that was happening to Blythe.
“The normal doctors can’t help her,” Mama shouted back, “But there’s a specialist who can.”
“And what sane man would be awake at this time of night?” Garrick grumbled beneath his breath.
The cart shuddered again as it roared past a stone slab. Blythe seemed to be the only one to notice. In her last moments of consciousness, Blythe tried to remember all those reading lessons she did with Mama. What did that sign say?
Dr. McNinja
General Physician
“We don’t hire night janitors.”
General Physician
“We don’t hire night janitors.”
The cart released one, final creak of resignation as Garrick pulled the lever to brake the poor thing. The chocobos shook their heads in displeasure, the one on the left almost immediately collapsing to rest its tired legs. There was a dreamlike quality to this place, which betrayed the seriousness of the emergency. Something about fluorescent lights flushing your face at the break of dawn fills you with a sense of calm. After all, it was rare to find a building in the rather rural plains, let alone one with windows that let out a blinding, lifeless shade of yellow.
Ignoring the fascinating aesthetic of this 21st century clinic in a medieval landscape, Aldrich and Oswin threw open the carriage doors. Aldrich sprinted forward for the front door as Mama grasped tightly onto Blythe’s limp body with both arms, afraid to let go. Mama rushed after her oldest son, Oswin and Garrick close behind.
“We need a doctor!” Aldrich shouted, having kicked open the glass and steel door.
The Pellbrook children looked around in fascination. They were standing in a completely empty reception area. The floors and ceilings were lined with dull white linoleum, and the plaster walls were cheaply painted to look like wood. Steel beams were hanging from the ceiling, the insides carved out to house bulbs of absolutely stunningly bright light. The boys got headaches just from looking up. Garrick almost bumped into a bench of steel and cheap, blue leather.
Mama Pellbrook, confused by why her children stopped running, shouted, “Get out the damn way!”
Aldrich, alarmed, stepped to the side to let Mama rush forward, still gripping onto Blythe bridal-style. The Pellbrook boys snapped out of their reverie and ran after her.
Mama seemed to know where she was going. She turned left, entering a short corridor. Of the two pine doors at the end, she kicked down the one to the right, which was helpfully labeled “Physician”.
Inside, they found a man who appeared to be eating a bagel, despite his face being completely covered by a mask. The room looked much like the reception area they were just in. The left and right walls were lined with a cornucopia of grey plastic cupboards. The back wall was instead occupied with an uncomfortable-looking bed, wrapped in the same blue leather from outside. One sheet of paper, as long as it was thin, laid almost uselessly on top of the bed.
“Oh!” the doctor said, “Ariel Pellbrook. What a pleasant surprise- And children! Goodness, you have a full litter of-“
The physician’s eyes seemed to land on Blythe’s pale and limp body, which Mama slammed down on the paper-leather bed. Mama turned to the man, somehow glaring desperately.
“Please,” Mama gasped, “Help her.”
The man hesitated for one second. In the next moment, the bagel seemed to vanish as the man (who seemed to have instantaneously donned some blue latex gloves) drew bandages and some tiny steel tools.
“What happened to her?” the man said.
“Who the hell is this supposed to be?” Garrick asked incredulously. The physician seemed.. disappointingly normal, except for the strange mask.
“My name is Dr. McNinja,” the man snapped back, “I’ll be your doctor for the evening. I feel like that was pretty obvious. Now…”
Dr. McNinja took a pair of scissors and, in an impossibly deft motion, widened the hole in Blythe’s tunic, revealing the full nature of the injury. A green rot fizzled and writhed around her wound, as if a thousand tiny insects were crawling underneath her skin. Yet, despite how chaotically the rot seemed to twist, they never ventured outside of what was clearly a brand: a circle with a tidal wave inside.
“…what the hell happened to her?” Doc repeated.
1063 / 10000 words