Well, hello friends!
So here is another Tumblr inspired one, found on the dash of Muirin007. I was thinking about it today and it cracked me up. So naturally, I had to write it. *shrug*
Enjoy!
It was midnight when it happened.
The moment after it happened, Erik sat in horror. He could hardly believe what had just come out of his mouth.
The gypsy camp was silent. All the occupants had retired to their wagons, exhausted after another day's work. They were somewhere in Germany, the last major town being Frankfurt. His strange song had enchanted and frightened hundreds of crowds. His throat felt raw, almost as raw as the skin on his back. He knew his voice was overworked and strained, but he couldn't help himself.
The fifteen year old sung himself lullabies on the worst nights. He had learned them by listening to some of the gypsy women who had children while in camp. He was fascinated that somebody would care about another being enough to sing them to sleep. When he was ten, he had asked one of the women to sing to him. She had declined, horror filling her face. Strangely, she had never told his Master.
At the thought of him, Erik stood on his toes and peeped inside the wagon, making sure his bag was in place. Master was passed out on the floor. The day's earnings were scattered around him, and his hand bore a large cut. The reason was made clear soon enough, a broken whiskey bottle lay at his feet.
Ouch, thought Erik. That will sting tomorrow. He'll be in a horrid mood, with the whiskey wasted.
An even worse thought came to mind. What will Master say if my voice does that…thing…again? What will he do?
Erik sat back down. He opened his mouth, ready to see if the thing remained.
The first few notes flowed clearly, and Erik relaxed. Perhaps he was just over-
Croak!
His voice went up an octave and his vocal cords stung a bit. His eyes widened in panic and he rubbed his throat. He tried a scale. Do, Re, Mi, Fa- and it happened again!
His voice! It…it was broken! What else could be the reason why it had made such an ungodly sound?
Ungodly…like the rest of him. Erik actually felt his eyes start to burn. His voice was the one beautiful thing about himself. It was the only thing that gave him hope, that one day he would leave this place, that one day he would be loved.
So, this is how it would end for him. What would Master do? No longer could he hope to sing for the crowds, scrambling to find some pity in their eyes. Now all he would hear was the jeers of the crowd as they laughed and screamed at his face.
He fell into an uneasy sleep.
In his dream, he was walking down an old path. All his demons trailed along behind him. At one point he turned around and faced them.
"Hello, my old friends. It seems I am defeated at last. My last hope for beauty is gone."
The demons cheered.
He woke up in a cold sweat, noting that the sun was slowly rising. Some of the women were already leaving their wagons. Erik caught sight of the healer, Natasha. He wondered if she would help him. She had, in the past, regarded his face as a challenge. "Madame," he asked, then turned beat red. It had happened again.
The Healer heard him. And she heard the crack. The corners of her mouth twitched.
"Is your Master awake, corpse?" she hissed. Erik double-checked, then shook his head, scared to speak again.
Natasha crossed the clearing and stood a few feet away. "Is he drunk again?" She asked. Erik nodded. But when the woman started for the door, he leapt at her, his ankle chain clanging against the bars of his cage.
"Silent! What's the matter with you?" Erik pointed to his throat.
Natasha clucked her tongue at him. "Can't talk?"
"I can." He said, and it didn't happen. Yet.
Natasha was beginning to get irritated. "Then what do you want me here for, corpse?"
"You see-" and it happened again. "There's a toad in my throat, Madam. Did somebody curse me?" It happened throughout his sentence.
Natasha just stared, her mouth twitching. She looked him over: a skinny teenage boy, with pants far too small for him, a hand on his throat, with a ragged bag covering his head.
She couldn't hold it in any longer.
"A toad! That's a good one, boy!" She cried with laughter, her remaining teeth shaking slightly.
Erik felt slightly annoyed, and also worried. Even if her laughter didn't wake up Master, if she died here and now, he would be in serious trouble.
"Please, Madam, can you fix me?" He pleaded.
"Fix you? Oh, you poor, ignorant corpse!" She laughed even harder. "Dear, you're stuck like this."
Erik felt real, true panic then. His voice? It would do that forever? His words would never flow in the only beauty he had, only more ugliness? His voice would match the rest of him?
It was, to him, a fate worse than death.
"Forever?" he squeaked.
Natasha wiped tears of mirth from her eyes. "What? Oh, no boy. But you're growing up, so your voice is gonna change."
"Change?"
"Calm yourself. It will only get a bit deeper. Haven't you heard of puberty, boy?"
Judging by the baffled look on his face, he hadn't.
"It's just turning you into a man. The cracking will stop soon."
Pure fear was etched over his face, and then anger replaced it.
"I want it to stop." He growled.
Natasha howled. "Stop puberty! Stop yourself from growing! Good luck, corpse; you're already over 5"6. You can't change nature, boy."
"No." he hissed, rubbing his face through the cloth. "You can't."
Natasha got what he was hinting at and was silent. Then Erik spoke again:
"How will I earn coins now? My voice is a large part of our act."
Natasha snorted. "They'll have more time to mock your hideous face, then."
A wail came from the boy, unnerving Natasha. She had never liked the corpse-like figure, and wasn't sure why she was talking to him-it-now. But she knew she had to shut it up, or else it's Master would be displeased with her. And having one of the most powerful men in camp displeased with her would not benefit her in any way.
"Oh, alright! I'll have a talk with that Master of yours later about all this."
His wails stopped immediately, though some sniffing still could be heard. "Really?" he asked in a hopeful tone.
"Of course. You'll blame me somehow if I don't. Now, shut up and go to sleep, ye' hear?"
The boy nodded and dropped down on his side.
As she neared her wagon, she heard the boy's voice by her ear.
"Many thanks, Madam!"
Erik thought over the incident again. He hoped that it would go away soon.
That was a fate he would only want on his worst enemies!
The boy fell asleep, smiling slightly, with the image of his Master trying to sing with a cracked voice in his mind.
So, amigos. Thoughts? I know how many people read these, but I get so little reviews. How the heck am I supposed to get better if y'all don't tell me what I'm doing wrong? Team effort, folks.
Anyways, if you wanna see this keep going, drop me a review or PM me. If now, I'll just keep it as a one-shot.
Until next time!
~Aria
