500-word Drabble: Fox's Pearl
Note: Didn't get this done in time for last week's purestofprose (sorry, katden), but I decided to finish it anyway.
While napping by a lake one day, Fox woke up to see - too late! - that her pearl was rolling away into the water. A fox's pearl is the collected breaths of all her lovers' last gasps, her soul and source of power. Without it, she would die. She dove into the water. The pearl sank into the black depths like a setting moon.
The first layer of the lake was cold as knives, the hunting ground of witch balls the size of boars, each of them made of brass and glowing orange from within. Fox transformed into an old woman, unafraid of her past or sinking, but she was surrounded by hatred. Inside the witch balls were swarms of insects, buzzing or throwing themselves again the metal like they were living bullets, their blots of shadow pressing towards her. Soon, they would break their cages and attack.
"I'm not afraid and I'm not sorry," she told her past enemies, and to prove it she reached out and banged her fist on a witch ball like it was a gong. The reverberation killed the insects and all the witch balls sank like boulders.
The second layer of the lake thick as marmalade, filled with schools of eyes - one for blue eyes, one for green, another for brown, leaving the hazels to swim between them freely. She transformed into a young woman too energetic to be slowed by friction or pressure, but she was surrounded by stares. The eyeballs leered or teared or squinted angrily at her. Any moment now, they would shove themselves down her throat until she choked.
"I'm not afraid and I'm not sorry," she told her past friends, and to prove it she reached out and crushed several of them like grubs. The rest turned into bubbles and burst.
The third layer of the lake warm as a sweater, and she was finally on the sandy floor. Standing in front of her was a handsome wolf who was much larger than a young girl. All around her were small mounds of dirt, as if many holes had been dug out and many items buried.
"I'm your true love," he told her. She took a step towards him, then hesitated. "You'll never find your pearl again without me," he said smugly. "Better kiss me now so I can become a man for you and help find it before it's too late." He grinned to show her his thick, harmless teeth.
She looked at the mess and looked at him. Then she transformed back into a fox.
"I'm not afraid and I'm not sorry," she said, and smiled to show him her sharp, strong fangs.
The wolf shrank back. "You'll regret it. You have no enemies, you have no friends. Without me, you won't find it."
Fox scratched behind her ears and ignored the brute until he turned back into a smelly bomber jacket. Once he was gone for good, she began to excavate for her soul.
While napping by a lake one day, Fox woke up to see - too late! - that her pearl was rolling away into the water. A fox's pearl is the collected breaths of all her lovers' last gasps, her soul and source of power. Without it, she would die. She dove into the water. The pearl sank into the black depths like a setting moon.
The first layer of the lake was cold as knives, the hunting ground of witch balls the size of boars, each of them made of brass and glowing orange from within. Fox transformed into an old woman, unafraid of her past or sinking, but she was surrounded by hatred. Inside the witch balls were swarms of insects, buzzing or throwing themselves again the metal like they were living bullets, their blots of shadow pressing towards her. Soon, they would break their cages and attack.
"I'm not afraid and I'm not sorry," she told her past enemies, and to prove it she reached out and banged her fist on a witch ball like it was a gong. The reverberation killed the insects and all the witch balls sank like boulders.
The second layer of the lake thick as marmalade, filled with schools of eyes - one for blue eyes, one for green, another for brown, leaving the hazels to swim between them freely. She transformed into a young woman too energetic to be slowed by friction or pressure, but she was surrounded by stares. The eyeballs leered or teared or squinted angrily at her. Any moment now, they would shove themselves down her throat until she choked.
"I'm not afraid and I'm not sorry," she told her past friends, and to prove it she reached out and crushed several of them like grubs. The rest turned into bubbles and burst.
The third layer of the lake warm as a sweater, and she was finally on the sandy floor. Standing in front of her was a handsome wolf who was much larger than a young girl. All around her were small mounds of dirt, as if many holes had been dug out and many items buried.
"I'm your true love," he told her. She took a step towards him, then hesitated. "You'll never find your pearl again without me," he said smugly. "Better kiss me now so I can become a man for you and help find it before it's too late." He grinned to show her his thick, harmless teeth.
She looked at the mess and looked at him. Then she transformed back into a fox.
"I'm not afraid and I'm not sorry," she said, and smiled to show him her sharp, strong fangs.
The wolf shrank back. "You'll regret it. You have no enemies, you have no friends. Without me, you won't find it."
Fox scratched behind her ears and ignored the brute until he turned back into a smelly bomber jacket. Once he was gone for good, she began to excavate for her soul.