DISCLAIMER: Do I look like a Hussie-Lipped Satan-Horse to you? Picture by DasWiener on deviantart until I get off my lazy butt and draw something.
I'm posting this with a few other stories and whichever one gets the biggest response is the one that gets continued first. Enjoy!
I'm just a green-skinned girl with some sort of freaky mutation that's just trying to make it through life with my ass of a brother. He's a complete asshole, and I usually try to not be judgmental and find the best in people. Seriously, who wants to kill their sister?
Parents? Long gone. I don't have the vaguest memory of them. I don't even remember who raised us or taught us to walk and talk. Sometimes I think we were just left here to figure it out ourselves.
Where's here? I still have no clue. My brother Caliborn and I have lived in this...I don't know...bunker? For years and we haven't been able to leave until now.
The only connection we've had to the outside world was the internet, but for all we know we could've been on Mars.
We've survived somehow, well I did at least. I have no clue what Caliborn's been doing besides reblogging pictures of cats, ordering really stupid stuff in the mail, and of course, plotting my demise.
The mail came once a month and I learned early on that if there's an unknown crate, do not under any circumstances open it. Never. I almost lost a leg that way and haven't been fond of large green snakes ever since.
Somehow we were supplied with everything we needed; food, clothes, deodorant (thankfully), you name it. I always had a pile of Mike and Ikes and my drawing supplies so I had been content. Until recently.
I had discovered this thing called "shojo" by accident, and I became completely obsessed with it. I started reading it, and drawing it, and then I became obsessed with the idea of a rose petal prince who would come save me from the hell Caliborn put me through. Little did I know that my prince would come, and that they would be absolutely nothing like I expected.
Last week the mail came early. It's usually delivered on the last Sunday of each month through the strange one way mail box/grate thing we have, but it was a Friday. I was excited because I thought that my new copic markers had come in, but it was only a letter addressed to my brother and I. That in itself was a big deal because we had never received any type of letter had stolen it the second it fell through onto the floor and tore it open. Thankfully, he was in a "nice" enough mood to read it aloud.
"Dear Caliborn and Calliope- Ha! My name was first! Blah blah blah. Boring shit. Blah. Hey! People are coming here today! Real fucking people!"
I stared at him blankly, not comprehending at first. "Please leave your guns in the closet." He, unsurprisingly, ignored me and ran off to his room with a glint in his eye, talking rapidly. I only heard Typhus and nitric acid, so I had reason to be scared.
That morning I freaked out more than I ever had in my entire life, which is saying something when you live with Caliborn. I had learned about a race called "Humans" through the internet, which I couldn't have been sure about because the "News" website I stumbled across was blocked the next day.
From what I gathered from the limited articles I could find on them, they are the predominate species on a planet called "Earth." Their skin colors cover a wide range of the spectrum, but none of them have green skin like me. Most of them have hair too, except for some of the men. Sometimes I think that I'm one of them, just with and odd skin condition. Sometimes I think that I'm completely alien. Either way I know that I would never be able to fit into human society.
I spent the entire morning in a rush, putting on my best green skirt and blazer. I didn't know if shoes were something that people normally wore, but I could never find anything that fit my feet so the decision was already made for me and I decided to go without.
Caliborn had never let me read the letter itself so I wasn't sure what to expect. It definitely wasn't the harsh banging on the door around noon. It was followed by some light tapping and I froze then ran to the front of our living space where there was a circular door in the ceiling.
"Are you fucking morons? Obviously we can't open the door or else I would've blown this shitty popsicle joint ages ago!"
I got there right when the door swung open and a woman dropped down, landing numbly and bypassing the ladder attached to the wall. "Call me Snowman," she said elegantly extending a hand. Before I could even begin to wonder about her name a man dramatically fell from the ceiling.
Literally, he dropped over the edge and fell to a heap on the ground. The man let out a string of curses then pulled himself off the found. It was hard to judge his size because the only person I could compare him to was Caliborn and I always tried to avoid him if I could help it.
My eyes went immediately back to the woman "Snowman." It was as if her presence demanded all the attention in the room. Her beauty was striking and her posture was impeccable. I had spent long hours staring at the models on my computer screen and she certainly could've been one of them. Snowman had even mocha skin and was tall and slim with just enough curves. She wore a black glittering trench coat and hat combo that should've been tacky, but she managed to pull it off.
Her dark hair was curled (naturally?) and bounced at her shoulders. She had deep green eyes and seemed to glow, not literally though. Snowman radiated self confidence and authority. I knew from that moment that I wanted to be like her. My appearance was something I was always self conscious about. I always knew deep down that I was a freak because I had never been able to find someone that looked like me. Except for Caliborn. So I tried to make myself look like them. After many failed results of wigs and body paint, I finally gave up.
While I stared at her and my inner monologue ran wild, my brother attacked the unnamed man. He went to punch him with his gun, but got a knife to the thigh in return. CAliborn, being the dramatic idiot that he was, dropped to the floor rolling in mostly faked agony. I couldn't contain my laughter and ended up sniggering behind my hand. I always found it amusing when Caliborn tried to throw bullets at me or clock me over the head with a pistol. I probably would've been shot dead long ago if I showed him how to do it.
"Spades Slick an' I don't want you callin' me nothin'," the man's gruff voice brought my attention back to him. He was larger than Caliborn and didn't look like anything special. He had paler skin than Snowman and some scraggly stubble on his chin. Slick wore all black with a bowler hat and kept shooting glances at snowman. I couldn't tell what kind they were though. It looked like he simultaneously wanted to kiss her and stab her. The only interesting thing about him was a scar that ran across his face and an eyepatch , more mobster than pirate.
Snowman rolled her eyes and put a hand on her hip, then turned to Caliborn and I. "You two are going to high school."