Um, short little fiction piece based off of the characters of Cornelia Funke's book Inkheart and Inkspell. Therefore, none of these characters belong to me. I just started reading inkspell so we will see what happens. The only character that belongs to me is Constance Clay (a name that I tend to reuse a lot.)
Peppermint
He scuffled his feet against the side of the wall, of all the things that have happened throughout the past few years-he couldn't wait to get home. He scratched his chin roughly spitting a piece of peppermint onto the ground. He was supposed to meet him here. He clenched his fists and seemed antsy, jumping at every snip of the branches or crunching of leaves near by.
"Basta—sir—I'm sorry but this is all I thought up." a young man said handing him a sheet of parchment paper. Basta snatched the paper from his grasp and looked over it quickly.
"Yeah, OK, just do whatever you have to do." He threw it back at the young man. This could be his chance to finally go home and be rid of this horrid place. This young boy said that he had read things like fairies from books,-perhaps this was his chance.
The young man cleared his throat. He seemed a little nervous, but then again, who wouldn't be. Basta stood close to him filing his nails with the blunt edge of his knife. The young man thought him too close for comfort, close enough to smell the wretched peppermint on his breath. He finally, after regaining his breath, began to read from the parchment paper.
He soon came to the end of the sheet and looked over at Basta. It didn't work. Basta was still sitting closer than ever, with a dangerous gleam in his eyes.
"I could try again—but sir I don't think it is going to work." the young man said with uneasiness in his shrill voice.
Basta grinned and lunged for the young man grabbing his collar. "You'd best get this right—you TOLD me you could do this!"
"Please Basta, I've never read anyone back into a story before—I'm not sure if I can do it!"
"LIAR!"—
"Excuse me…" a small voice interrupted with a small tap at the door. Both of the men looked up and saw a girl of about twenty standing in the doorway. Her skin fair and her dark curls sweeping down her face. She wore a simple shroud of white cloth across her shoulders and down to her feet. Her eyes were a blue pool of shimmering water covered by long dark lashes.
"Excuse me, but could you tell me where I am."
Basta glared at the young man and pushed him aside. "You have doomed another to this wretched world—I should rip out your throat so you can never speak another word."
The young man scrambled up and left the room in a hurry with his parchment in hand.
"Filthy little twerp!" Basta grumbled to himself as he put his blade back into its sash.
"Excuse me, sir, could you take me home." The girl said once more, hesitant to approach Basta.
"Look girl, I don't even know how to get home—I can't help you, I don't even know where I'm going." He grumbled as he pushed past her into the dark night.
"Please, sir, I don't have anywhere to go, could I please come along with you?"
He turned around. "Look, I don't think you under—," he stopped almost as if he was lost in her eyes, "just don't lag behind." He turned back around and she followed him closely.
"What is your name?" she questioned inquisitively.
He snorted. "My name is Basta." He spit out another piece of peppermint and continued walking. "What about you?" he said still walking through the woods in front of him.
"Constance—Constance Clay," she held out her hand, "pleased to meet you."
He glanced over his shoulder and snorted once more. He nodded. "Constance."
To be continued in Chapter 2. Enjoy kiddies.