I'm perfectly normal, thank you for your concern
Mallelia Camilla St. James
14th Street and Park Avenue
New York City, New York
3:59 p.m
I walk through the sea of people, careful not to touch anyone. Sure, I look hella weird sidestepping and dodging the occasional elbow, but I learnt the hard way not to get too close to a human. For their own safety.
In a city like New York, thatβs almost fucking impossible. Iβve lived here my entire life, and I love it. Wouldnβt change it for the world. I get high just being around so many people. The feeling... itβs indescribable. Kinda like I feed off the energy.
But then, thatβs prolly cause Iβm not a hu...
Nvm.
Ion got time for this, honestly. If I donβt get to the apartment on time, Marisol will take that as a perfect opportunity to throw her chancleta at me (cause I look like a fvcking spider, smh.)
I mean, I would fight back, but I have a thing against hurting defenceless humans, and besides, itβs just a slipper.
Sheβs gonna throw her slipper at me, pull my hair, and tell me how difficult it is to take care of 12 kids. We should be grateful, really, because she took us in when no one wanted us. We should be grateful because she busts her ass working to take care of us, because she loves us.
Yeah.
No.
All this is coming from a woman who makes it a point to tell us that the only reason weβre living with her is for the cheques the government sends.
Like thanks, Blondie, we couldnβt figure that out.
In the sick and twisted black hole known as her mind, we owe her. We owe her everything. No one cares about little shits like us, no one cared before she came along, so she owns us. Crazy.
But fr I gotta get home like, now. If Iβm not home before 5, sheβs gonna lock the door. That means I wonβt get any food to eat, as Iβm the one preparing said food. Neither will my sisters, if Iβm late.
Theyβre industrious little chickens, though; theyβd be able to steal some candy and soda from Marisolβs room, and I know I can trust the triplets to feed Jordan and take care of the younger ones.
Iβd have to go to work at Screw hungry, and when I return from my shift around 12, the door will still be locked.
Ion know what type of guardian would lock her ward out of the house in Highbridge, for crying out loud - but I guess that shows ya how much she cares.
Iβm sure youβve realised by now that everything Iβve said has happened before.
Iβm thinking of ways I could crush Marisol and sprinkle her ashes down the toilet, when my dragon sticks his head out of my bag. In public.
Yes, I have a dragon. And yes, heβs bite-sized.
*Giggles in delirium.*
Iβm not weird, you are.
Itβs not like my baby to risk blowing his cover, especially during the day. His eyes, which are usually the colour of molten lava, are a deep shade of onyx, showing that someone isnβt too happy.
βMelia, Iβm hungry.β
Zeiryth is kinda like my spirit guide animal... thingy. Heβs absolutely gorgeous. Deep black all over, with the cutest set of horns. Theyβre poisonous, though, so be careful when you hold him.
And yes, he talks.
Heβs always been around, I guess. Holding him was my first memory. I know what youβre about to ask. Canβt your guardian see that you have a pet dragon following you everywhere?
No, she canβt. She canβt see him, because he doesnβt want her to. My sisters can, however.
βIβm talking to you, Melia.β he sneezes and a delicate fireball escapes.
I catch it and watch as it dissolves in my palm. His flame can hurt everyone except me, which comes in handy during allergy season. The downside is Iβm the only one who can put his fire out, like at all, so if we ever get separated and heβs in a bad mood...
βI know, I know. Weβre almost at the apartment, just hold it in.β
βIf you donβt get me food soon, Iβll be snacking on your tote bag. It looks worn out. Prolly the fact that the hag found it behind a dumpster and gave it to you.β
βUm. Rude much? At least I have a bag.β
βGet. Me. Food. And youβre entitled to much, much more than clothes from the Salvation Army and bags found in the trash.β
βSure, Your Winged Majesty. Whatever you say.β
Ever since I turned 12 heβs been going on and on about how the time is coming, we shall rise, the darkness exists first blah blah blah. I just ignore him, I mean, I donβt have the heart to tell my talking pet dragon that heβs acting weird.
Unknown P.O.V
A nondescript grey van, no number plate, is parked on the side of the street facing traffic.
βDo you have eyes on the target?β
A female, covered from head to toe in oversized clothes exchanges hot dogs for the pieces of paper their kind find so valuable with the impatient queue of humans in front of her. She watches the girl talk to her dragon.
βAffirmative, target acquired.β
A male wearing a pair of tinted glasses plays a tune on his sax. Heβs not actually blind, his eyes are just a deep shape of blood red, and he canβt have the humans panicking.
Though looking at their race now, theyβd assume heβs wearing contacts. Humans are so blind. He could walk the streets with his fangs on full display and theyβd think heβd gotten surgery.
He doesnβt want to risk it though, so he added a walking stick to the outfit back at HQ. He couldnβt add a guide dog to the whole setup, animals hate him, so he had to ask his pΓΉca to shift into one for this particular mission. His pΓΉca, who is staring at a girl talking to her dragon about... a being named Megan Thee Stallion? And her industrial knees?
The girl with the dragon flips a coin into the bowl placed in front of him.
He watches her walk away.
βTarget acquired and confirmed.β
The shadow in the van nods once. βGood. Operation 12SJ001 commences as of now.β
************
Hi guys welcome to your world of cringe.
*smiles with extra cringe energy*
I'm sorry, I'm nervous.
Hope you liked it. Drop a comment telling me how you feel, what you think about it and alladat.
Some things I need to clear up, though:
First of all this story is set in New York, and I havenβt even beenππ so excuse me if my locations are a bit weird. My dyscalculic ass tried to understand the geography of New York with all its numbers and stuff and said dyscalculic ass failed.
Second, chancleta is Spanish for flip-flops, βnvmβ is text abbreviation for the phrase βnever mindβ, and 'fr' is text abbreviation for the phrase 'for real'.
So feel free to correct me if I got anything wrong or ask questions if you donβt understand. Hope youβre having a good one, ILY!
QOTC: Whatβs your sun sign?
Iβm an Aquarius βββ
