Contracts With the Void

"Dear Lugus:

it's been a while since you suddenly left me with the company of your —problematic— daughter. But let's start with something more romantic: How are you? Is adventure going wherever you go? Do you still crave for those romantic, lusty nights we used to spend at the porch of that rusty cabin, next to that stinky swamp you like so much to fish in?

You likely do. And I know you are probably not living any adventures. Being a successful and busy stockholder like you is such a boring job. But I'm not writing you this letter to flatter you or your work and success, nor for confessing to you about how my carnal instincts yearn for your body and mind so much. This is not about us.

I'm writing to you because of your beloved daughter. We've already settled up that she's not the most —mentally stable— person, but ever since you left she has been acting stranger than ever. Remember her old habit of escaping the residence to God-only-knows were in the dead of night? There has not been a single week when she doesn't unexpectedly disappear, nor a single week when your watchmen have not caught her trying to sneak out.

I understand that I'm not her real mother, but she is being ruder to me than ever. She doesn't follow rules, and last week I found those pagan books we already forbidden her right under her bed. Hell, she still carries around those stupid, stuffed dolls like she was still six years old. She also dropped out of school. The other students don't like her and she's not easy to make friends with.

I'm suspecting there's something wrong, both physically and obviously mentally with her. She hasn't even had her first period! any girl of her age is already a young lady! and she is so short compared to that elegant and seductive height of yours. She looks like a child and acts like one, but sometimes she has the sharp tongue of the oldest wench in Merry Oaths.

I'm just asking you to reply ASAP because I don't know what to do with her. It's emotionally and physically exhausting trying to set her on track while being the fine and delicate wife of Mr. Lugus Land, one of the most important gentlemen in the town. If you don't reply, pardon me, but I will take my personal, special measures to correct her into a decent life of education.

A warm hug, a long kiss, and my best wishes to you, my sweet dear.

–Your beloved and devoted wife; Carol Land.

P.S: Remember that old couple that resided near where the forests and the swamps meet? Their house burned down and they died inside a few days ago. I just hope Vanilla doesn't make any weird ideas and gets in trouble once more.

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"Your beloved and devoted wife." Vanilla mocked her words with that fake sweetness her stepmother was so good yet bad at faking.

"Of course, I'm not gonna get in trouble." She crumbled that letter decorated with French engravings and tossed it into her bin.

"Well, seems like my dear, beloved mommy Carol cares so much about me." She grinned with irony.

She let herself fall onto her red bed made of duck feathers. That dark, woody room with a discrete scent of moss, located at the bottom of the residence was her personal sanctuary. It was the place where she could forget about the scoldings of Carol, the mockery of the townsfolk, or the place where she could simply immerse herself into a good novel or in the insights of her telescope.

"Rowie, are you still here?" She stared at the beamed ceiling. There was a spider dancing with her web.

Rowie jumped to the bed. He was her puppy and only friend in that place full of lunatics known as Merry Oaths, a grim town of gothic houses surrounded by a vomit of swamps and a spiderweb of trees where not even the sun was confident enough to show daily.

Rowie was a white pup with a black patch on his right eye that extended up to his right ear. Being still a puppy, he was small like Vanilla, but he would grow up to be a big dog, being a mix of Dalmatian and Labrador Retriever.

"Good boy," She scratched his neck and sat at the edge of the bed. "Do you know what we're going to do tonight? Yes. We're going to that house that burned down last week and we're going to find out what did really happen."

Rowie stared at her, giving the impression of understanding what his human companion just said.

It had not been more than six days ever since the house of a humble fisher suddenly burned down and he and his family met their tragic end.

What was so interesting about some accident on the other side of the town? Rumors said that the man was meddling with witchcraft, something that gave Merry Oaths' poor reputation an even worse name.

The town was struggling with maintaining its current population. Myths and legends regarding the small community were a common thing Vanilla took a liking to investigate; spending long nights outside home and reading as much as she could books of paganic content and other taboo topics.

She got up, reached for the worn-down wardrobe in front of her bed, and put on her leather coat and boots; those were the clothing she felt most comfortable with while going outside. It was not like she disliked her dresses and shoes made of golden strings and British lace, but she didn't feel like she had anyone worthy of wearing them for.

Maybe her father, but it had been more than seven never-ending months of summer and spring since the last time she saw him.

"Vanilla, are you there?" It was Carol's deep voice from the other side of the door.

"...Yes," She rolled her eyes. "I'm leaving soon."

Carol didn't ask. She opened the door and got inside. Its darkness smelled like dust and rotten wood. "Did you see the letter I left on the table this morning?"

"...No idea."

"Nevermind." The tall, blonde woman sighed. "Tonight we have dinner with those British doctors that just moved to the town. I want you to make yourself presentable and expect them at the main lobby."

"I'm sorry, but I'm going to return late tonight." She put her stuff into her leather bag.

"Vanilla, I've talked with you so many times. Could you obey me for just once?" She stressed the word "once". It was more of a command than a question.

Was there any point in arguing with Carol? Previous times she tried to, she would get scolded and punished. Carol didn't accept any reasons other than hers; that was something Vanilla had to learn while living with her. She was a waste of neurons.

"Fine. I'm just going to retrieve some books from the library and I'll be back. Alright?" She feigned a smile.

"I want you back before 9 p.m." She kept making visual contact. "I'm gonna punish you if you exceed yourself for a single minute. Am I clear?"

"Yes, Carol." She stared intenser than her with her dark, glossy eyes. Carol felt like they perforated right into her soul.

The woman stood there, unable of responding for a second. Despite Vanilla not representing any threat, her presence always made her feel some unease she could not explain.

"...Stop calling me just Carol. Show some respect for me," She reached for the door. "Oh, and make your hair up. Aren't you embarrassed about going outside like that?" She abruptly closed the door behind.

"Of course mom, I'll be back." She taunted and put a big, red ribbon on her unbrushed hair. "Don't worry Rowie," She smiled at him. "we're not losing this out."

He left out a small bark, like if he affirmed what Vanilla said. She finished getting herself ready and opened the door. Rowie crossed outside wagging his whitetail.

"Oh, one more thing," She quickly returned. "Where is my cat plushie? Oh, right here," She dragged out a cardboard box from below her bed. "We're going to need a weapon in case something happens. Mr. Fluffy Ball will be perfect."

Other people would laugh at her, trying to protect herself with a ragdoll. Except that her dolls were the only thing effective against the creatures she used to fight while going on her bizarre explorations. 

The local people were unaware of the perpetual danger that inhabited amidst them. Merry Oaths hid many things that science considered as "impossible", something that Vanilla knew very well, but her skepticism still tried to deny. How could something so real yet so absurd exist? 

The sky was cloudy and grey outside of the Land Residence, something typical of the region that gave every local folk a romantic feeling for the sun and clear, warm days. Vanilla crossed the withering down yard, got inspected by the stone gargoyles of the arched entrance, and stepped outside.

The cobblestone roads were moist, and the gothic architecture of the neighborhood's houses stared with their bay windows. Vanilla began her way to the house she was looking for, right at the east edge of the town.

"Hey you, nice ribbon, eyebags," A voice she recognized and made her stomach nauseous stopped her, two blocks further from her house, where St. Adelaide street connected perpendicularly with the one-way street of St. Anthony of Kyiv.

The two connecting streets were desolate, besides some crows cawing in their leafless trees. Vanilla turned around her head, looking at one of the figures that gave her disgusting and uncomfortable feelings.

It was one of her old classmates that used to bully her before she dropped out of school. She was accompanied by another two of her ex-classmates, leaning between two V-8's 1932. They dressed in those clothes made of pierced denim that were so popular among youths. Cheap tobacco and malt liquor smells flooded the radius around them. Rowie growled and hid behind Vanilla's legs.

"Oh, Rox, may I help you with something?"

"I was just wondering where you got those boots, didn't you find a pair that was, say, six sizes smaller?" Her mates laughed. Their eyes had that oblivious malice Vanilla already recognized very well between her peers.

"She's so flat I wouldn't touch her even with a stick," The young male said. He was overweight and his face was an eyesore to look at. And he had little of a diplomat. Vanilla had observed him before stealing lunch money from smaller kids.

"Vanilla..." A lanky and horse-faced tanned girl mumbled. "Who decided to give you such a stupid name?"

Vanilla's heartbeat trembled in her chest. That was one of the reasons why she disliked going outside. The constant fear of encountering her old bullies and being insulted by cruel kids and drunk men indulged her into a stress state that could steal her mind for long periods.

However, she didn't want to let them do whatever they wanted anymore. She had already suffered from numerous people like them making her childhood miserable.

What could be done, regardless? They outnumbered her three to one and they had a primitive desire for violence. These people were chimps and just like chimps, you had to be careful while interacting with them.

But once they picked on someone lonely and unprotected, they didn't hesitate to fulfill their primal, violent desires. They'd hurt her in any way, just like they had done in the past. She turned back and took a step closer.

"Yes, Rox?" She directed to the girl with short hair that impeded her. "You like my boots, sure? The normal thing, considering your parents are so poor to afford you a better pair of shoes. Isn't your father a drunkard that never works and spends all his money on bars? And isn't your mother that old woman that sells flowers at the market? I pity her. Having such an obnoxious slut like you for a daughter."

Rox's expression changed from a grin to a serious look, with a pair of eyes that pointed like loaded revolvers.

"And you, Eric? Henry? What was your name? It doesn't matter. No one cares about you. You're so fat because you always have to steal cents and food from defenseless children. You wouldn't touch me? you wouldn't touch any girl. I know what you are. Why are you always touching those kids' low parts? Stop hiding your homosexuality and start showing some love for yourself."

The bully's face reddened. But it wasn't because of shame. It was because of being called out in front of his friends, something that no one dared to do until this moment. His blood boiled. His reputation would get crushed if everyone heard what she said.

"My name, stupid? You're one to talk, Jane; such a common name. Couldn't your parents be a little more, original? Not like they cared in any way. You would not be here if they did," The lanky girl showed her donkey teeth and glimpsed at Vanilla with a stare of anger that looked stupid on her equine face.

The trio looked at each other. They would not let such a misfit like Vanilla try to mock them. If they didn't have the words to fight back, it was time to use what always worked for them: Brute force. They'd make sure to make her pay and show her how much a worthless insect she actually was.

"You're fricking dead!" Rox yelled, showing her canine teeth.

Vanilla ran away, with Rowie following behind. But her legs were shorter and she didn't exercise them as much as Rox's. The taller girl pulled her raven hair and put her on the cobblestone floor, between a rusty mailbox and a dried and hollow oak tree.

"You think you're so tough, huh!?" Rox yelled. From the ground, she looked bigger than what she actually was, with the desiccated branches of the trees making a crown around her head. Rowie barked.

Rox tried to get on Vanilla, but Vanilla slammed the sole of her boot on her face as hard as her legs allowed. Rox coated it with both hands and hunched away. Blood and tears started dripping from the middle of her fingers.

Now she was in one of the worst situations she would have preferred not to be. She was on the floor, vulnerable, and they craved to see her spilling her teeth more than ever. If she survived, people would make even more fun of her appearance, with various missing teeth, a crooked nose, and her eyes purple.

Or perhaps they'd start feeling empathy for her. These were the kind of thoughts that generated in her head under stress moments, being so fast yet so slow, as if she was brutally judging herself for her own acts.

Using Mr. Fluffy ball? No. That was not an option. His powers weren't a toy. He was not a gun you could unleash and fill with lead whoever was attacking you. Chaos would be born if someone saw her using a magical plush to leave her bullies made a gulp of blood, broken bones, and mauled skin. She could only hope that someone would approach and do something about it.

Jane, the lanky girl, kicked Vanilla's stomach with her patent leather shoes. Vanilla hunched back from the pain, releasing the air she had left in her lungs. Tears dropped from her eyes.

"Ain't so tough now?" She tangled her hands in Vanilla's hair and used it to lift her body. Burning pain made her swear that her skull was about to get ripped apart from her scalp. Desperate and impotent, she tried to set herself free by scratching Jane's hands,

"C'mon, let's show this trash where it truly belongs." She smirked.

Rox's eyes were red, and her nose could not spitting blood away. Anger killed her self-control. She would make sure such a piece of trash like Vanilla would never be able of walking again.

"What are you doing? Stop right there!" A man yelled and crossed the corner between the two wasted streets.

The two incoming authoritative and wide figures made the hooligans panic and step back. Jane untangled her hand from the black spider Vanilla's hair was and her skull bonked against the polished and cold cobblestone.

She rubbed and pushed the back of her head, trying to stop the burning pain that made her eyes shut. Rowie approached and licked her pale hands.

"Officer, look at what this girl did to our friend!" Jane signaled at Rox, covered with blood "She tried to steal from us!"

"Get up, girl. Now." He ordered Vanilla.

She got up how she could. Her face was irritated and her hurtful expression had her eyes watering down. Her hands were still on her head's rear.

"Look at my eyes. Are you okay?" He inquired. The small girl sobbed and trembled. Sigh... more youngsters thinking they were smarter than him...

She raised her head and put her messy black hair out of her wet and pale face. She stared at him with her ebony, enormous eyes, and they stabbed right through his corneas. He felt bafflingly disconcerted for a second.

His companion got closer. He was bald and shorter, but he looked like he carried double the musculature. He put his .38 out of his leather belt and pointed it at them.

"Stay right where you are kids, or I'm gonna be forced to fill you with lead." The trio stepped back, putting their hands behind their heads.

"...Tell me, who are your parents?" The taller officer asked Vanilla. She hesitated for a moment, drawn away by her hopeless thoughts from the physical world.

"Lugus Land... My father is Lugus Land."

"Mr. Land?" The second police officer whistled. "Seems like you kids are in serious trouble. C'mon. Follow me to the car. You're going to spend some hours at the station."

"Believe us, official! She almost killed our friend, look at her!" Jane exclaimed.

"You're free of making a report. At the station. Now start walking to that car in the next street. Quick. I don't have your time." The muscular officer ordered.

"I swear you're going to pay for this Vanilla, you are dead!" Rox shouted.

"You're gonna spend some extra hours for disturbing public order, girl. Start walking."

While being escorted in the cracked and muddy sidewalks, the hooligans looked back at Vanilla, staring at her as if they looked at someone who just beat their mothers up. If Vanilla only had to avoid them or ignore their insults, they now saw her as their enemy. They would actively try to hunt her down.

"Are you okay? Do you want me to take you home?" The officer remaining put his hands on his knees. Reasonable people like him weren't something that Vanilla could find every day in that isolated and devoured by nature place.

"No... I'm fine. I can walk by myself."

"Seriously? It's getting kind of late." He checked his wristwatch. "It's already 5:00 pm. There's only about one hour of sunlight left."

"Yes. I'm being serious... Thanks for helping me out." She gave him a thankful grin.

"Alright, Girl." He straightened up. "Don't be late. We can't save you from every felon that wanders these streets. Send my regards to your father, from Bruce Brown, an old friend."

They waved goodbye and the officer turned around the corner of a worn-down house with planks covering its windows.

The sky was already orange. Vanilla let herself fall on her knees on that lonely, abandoned, alcohol-smelly street of broken apart Victorian and gothic houses, and hugged Rowie tightly into her bosom.

What was she gonna do? Everyone who didn't want to hurt her often despised her presence and launched insults at her. She was helplessly alone in that grim town.

Returning back? No. Although there was still time before those brits she didn't know arrived, her stepmother would just yell and punish her with no dinner. She had to keep going. But what worried her the most was the thought of getting assaulted again and be forced to use Mr. Fluffy Ball, her cat plush.

Although his power could decimate any delinquent she might found, she was still resilient about using it on humans. Its powers were not a toy. But what was she supposed to do if the need arose? This time those police officers saved her life, but it would not be like that forever. Lightning never struck twice.