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Author's Note: The poem that Lorraine is quoting here is Emily Dickinson's "Emancipation". Between the two of them, Stiles and her only get through the first two stanzas.
Submitting Info:
Stacked with: Hogwarts 2.0 (T05); RAVEN (2025); MC4A (Wi-Yr7)
Individual Challenges: Watts; Red Instead; Spark Plug; Missing Link; Major; Delilah; Feather Head; Stacking Fool; Flashers; Polygon; Single Location; Royal; Blood; Shield; Magical MC [x4]; Old Shoes; Fuse Box; Binger; Cinematic; Alpha & Omega; Small Fry [x2]; Tossed Chum; Elder Berries; Nonhuman MC [x4]; Neurodivergent; Rian-Russo Inversion [x4]; In a Flash; Bucket Listing; The Story Goes On; Eating Cake (Y); Exchange; Outer Limit; Two Cakes (Y); Ship Sails; Lovely Triangles; Bi Bi Bi; Zukes of Hazard; Outer; Zed Era; Hold the Mayo; Rainbow Connection
Hogwarts House: Ravenclaw
Assignment: Term 05 - Assignment 04
Subject [Task (Prompt)] : Graphic Design [Task#3 (someone making a bold declaration)]
Other Hogwarts Challenges: Library [California Wisdom](California USA); Frenzy [SPN#4](Pistol); Center [24 - Ched] (Unrequited Crush); Pokemon [933 - Nacistack](Sea Green); Feb House [5 - St. George](Teal);
RAVEN Challenges: A [24](Embracing); Traits [58](Old); Colors [94](Teal); Items [36](Hair Comb); Settings [17](Cold)
Other MC4A Challenges: Chim [Morwin](Protection; "Shadow" - Livingston; Autistic); Fire [Void]; Garden [Gnome Army (Bowl); Pot Garden (Cold); Statuary (Table); Herbs (Bright); Fall Fires (Parent & Child); Remember (Death)]; Hang [Phrase#01](n/a); Shop [Neuro (Dementia)]; Swap [Furn (Purple Armchair); Bed (Blue Silk Pillowcase); Jewelry (Wooden Hair Comb); Dishes (Wooden Bowl); Bottoms (Purple Maxi Skirt)]
Representation(s): Mieczysław "Stiles" Stilinski & Parents; Claudia Gajos Stilinski/Noah Stilinski; Lorraine Martin & Lydia Martin; One-Sided Puppy Crush; Background Triad; Halloween; ABO AU; Chim Song Prompt
Primary & Secondary Bonus Challenges: Fruit Fly; Second Verse (Ladylike; Not a Lamp; Persistence Still; Spinning Plates; Unwanted Advice; Most Human Bean; Rock of Ages; Bad Beans; Morrigan's Tentacles; Under the Bridge; Esbat; Easy Zephyr); Chorus (Odd Feathers; Wabi Sabi; Fizzy Lemonade; Mouth of Babes; Tomorrow's Shade; Larger than Life; Unicorn; Creature Feature; Turtle-Duck; Sitting Hummingbird; Some Beach; Hot Stuff)
Tertiary & Generic Bonus Challenges: T3 (Terse; Toad); O3 (Oath); HoSE (Obscure); SHoE (Terse; Onus); AD (Association; Assumption); TY (Ntaiv; Enfant); Wings (n/a); Share (Dragoman; Augur); DP (Terse; Yearn)
Space Address (Prompt): WiB 5D (Shivering); Vocab 3C (Embrace)
Word Count: 872 words
(Ø)
Emancipation
(Ø)
Lydia Martin was a princess.
Literally.
She was dressed in a puffy costume that was mostly teal tulle. Cream lace were attached in wavy rings over the full skirt. Two rows of pearl braced either side of what was a child's version of a corset laced with a sea green ribbon. Her bright red hair was braided into a crown around her head with another sea green ribbon. A wooden hair comb with a sea turtle carved into the arch is tucked into the back.
Not even the plastic pumpkin bucket swinging from one arm could ruin how lovely Lydia looked in the setting sun.
Mischief sighed as he watched her climb the wooden steps of a well-lit house to the old man sitting in a purple armchair that looked like it had been dragged outside just for this night. The rickety little table next to him had a weathered look to it but held the large wooden bowl filled with oranges just the same. Lydia gave the man a curtsy as perfect as she was before holding out her bucket. The old man gave her a smile before dropping one of the oranges into the plastic pumpkin.
He could see how Lydia dimpled as she returned the smile before twirling around to hop down the steps to the older lady escorting her. The lady had gone for a similar theme as her young charge. She had black leggings on under a long purple skirt with eight thick strands of royal purple fabric draped over it. She had on a black long-sleeved shirt with a purple vest over the top. Around her neck was a lavender scarf shaped like an eel with a head at either end. Her short white hair had been gelled to stand straight up.
Mischief stumbled a bit when his mother gently nudged him forward towards the sidewalk up to the same porch that Lydia had just visited. He flailed his arms, inadvertently tossing away the fancy blue pillowcase he was using to collect his treats this year. Determined to not lose anything, he dove after it. Mama followed closely behind. Unfortunately, their dramatic display drew the attention of the other trick-or-treaters and their guardians.
Including Lydia in her pretty princess dress.
And Lydia's grandma, already dressed as a sea witch.
Something in the air shifted. The warm evening air suddenly turned cold enough that a few people in the crowd made white mist every time they breathed. Mischief watched as Lydia's grandmother seemed to turn into an ashy version of herself, as if a veil had been dropped over her. Her teal eyes seemed to glow in the dimness of the Halloween night.
They reminded Mischief of the ghost lights in some of Mama's stories, something to draw the unwary off the safe path through a winter wood.
"No rack can torture me," she said as she moved closer. Her eyes stayed fixed on Mischief. The blue-green of the teal irises were like a fire. "My soul's at liberty."
"Lorraine," Mama said in that sharp voice that grownups used when they wanted other grownups to back off. Her fingers dug into Mischief's shoulders as she gripped him to pull him backwards. It hurt but not as much as the frigid air freezing his lungs with every breath.
"Behind this mortal bone," Lorraine continued as if she couldn't hear Mama. Mischief didn't blame her. Trapped by her gaze, he was having trouble remembering the scattered crowd of adults and kids around them. His nose twitched as the strong scent of chrysanthemums and moss filled the air between them. "There knits a bolder one."
"Grandma?" Lydia asked. She had her head tilted as if she was hearing something. Her red hair looked like blood.
Mischief blinked, his mind pulling something out of its depths. He knew what Lorraine was saying. He broke away from his mother's grasp. Lorraine reached out for him, her outstretched fingers like the leafless bones of an oak in winter.
"You cannot prick with saw," Mischief quoted back at her, picking up where she had left off in the poem, "nor rend with scymitar."
Lorraine smiled at him, her lips a bloody slash across the lower half of her face. Her bone-like fingers cupped his face in a gentle but icy embrace.
"Two bodies therefore be," she continued. Her teal eyes moved from his face to over his head where he knew that his mother must be. "Bind one, and the other will flee."
A loud whoop sounded at the same time that a blue and red light flashed across the scene. Lorraine startled backwards, releasing Mischief. A couple of car door slammed as the old woman swooned. Suddenly, a pair of deputies came rushing up the sidewalk. Despite being almost six, Mischief found himself scooped up into his father's arms. The other officer was easing Lorraine to sit on the ground because she seemed too dizzy to stay on her feet.
The warmth of the October night had returned. Everyone seemed to have their normal colors back, no fading or weird highlights. There was no more weird muted tones to sounds, like an echo that couldn't echo.
Whatever had happened seemed to be over.