Fell Deeds
Chapter 2 Not in Kansas Anymore
A few months passed as I came to grips with my new situation. I had no clue what had gone wrong with the transport but something clearly had. I was a baby. Newborn. Wrinkled little bag of sputum and other wastes just waiting to pop. I'm guessing that the flash I saw was a malfunction in the Machine and I was not sent to Thanos 226 at all. This place had clear blue skies as far as I could tell from the window in this room. Thanos was supposed to have an ever present haze of gray dust darkening its atmosphere. Not Thanos then. Somebody fouled up the works. I decided it was Ted mostly because his grin had annoyed me.
The people I have come to think of as my parents bustle about doing whatever it is people do on this world. My father was a large man. Much bigger than I used to be but looked kinder than I ever had. I admit that is not saying much. Saying someone looks kind when compared to my former visage is like saying a hyena looks cuddly when compared to a crocodile. He was thick of limb and heavily bearded. He had a high forehead with dark brown hair starting to recede above the temples and gray a bit near his ears. His face was craggy with high ruddy cheeks and a prominent nose which had an old scar stretching from the bridge across the right cheek just past his eye. His eyes were deep set and nearly black in color. He seemed to growl more than speak.
My mother is plump little woman with dirty blond hair, blue eyes, and an abnormally huge bosom. She giggled and hummed as she went about her tasks never sitting in one spot long unless sleeping or feeding me. She gave off a conflicting aura of busy calm and tranquility which I found a bit uncomfortable. She would speak to me often which has helped me begin to understand a few of the words she used.
The house itself appears to be made of timber beams and plaster. I do not know how large the house is as Ive yet to leave this room. I see no electronic devices of any kind. Even the few cups and other utensils Ive seen are made of wood or fired clay. The window has glass in it so they have at least that much technology. The smell of baking bread flooded the house most of the day which I enjoyed immensely. I could only hope to be free of my liquid diet as soon as humanly possible.
My situation brought to mind stories Id read as a child which featured similar circumstances. I was reborn as a baby but that is where the similarities end. I was not summoned by wizards, gods, priests, or princesses nor was I reincarnated after saving some girl from being run over by a car or being stabbed by an acquaintance. Nope, Not me. I had the distinct honor of being reborn due to the efforts of half mad military scientists, the prison system, and the ineptitude of one grinning trekkie. Great. Nice start. For the moment I was just glad I had all my limbs. I wondered if I lost so much of myself in transport that only my memories were left. Did my memories imprint upon the first organism they encountered or something? Is that possible? Had I hijacked an innocent child? I tried not to think about it.
Aside from much pissing and shitting of pants I spent the majority of my time sleeping and ...nursing... I am now firmly of the opinion that the real reason children do not remember these earliest years is due to the trauma of being forced to receive sustenance from our mother's fat sweating tits... Its just creepy. I felt somehow violated after every meal. My mother sometimes had guests. They appeared to be other women from the area who had nothing better to do than poke and make those ridiculous goo goo noises at me. My mother beamed with pride in these moments.
After about a year had passed I had become physically strong and coordinated enough to walk around the house. I discovered that my father was a baker which explained the smell of the place. My mother spent her time when not tending to me helping him. She milked one of the three cow in the pasture out back, churned butter, mended clothing, and brewed some sort of alcoholic beverage that my father was all too fond of. The house was fairly large. Constructed of thick rough hewn timber framing, plaster walls, cobblestone and wood floors, and a wood shingle roof. Other than the shop, nursery, and kitchen on the first floor there was a root cellar where my mother did her brewing, and living quarters on the second floor where my parents had their bedroom, den, and study.From the study I could climb onto the heavy wooden table and look out of the window to see the surroundings from the back of the house.
The village or whatever was located in a mountain valley with a few sparse wooded areas and a terraced field here and there. I could see other evidence of a farming community like sheep grazing of the rolling hills and pigs penned near a small cobblestone dwelling. Our house was located on the side of a hill which I could just see over the top of from my position. There was a small river meandering through the valley floor about half a mile from it. I could just make out what looked like a mill perched on the riverside. I guessed it was where my father got his flour. Just as I was about to climb down I saw a girl of about 10 years stagger out of the mill with a sack on her shoulder that must have been half again her own weight. She tripped and fell bursting the sack with a big white cloud. A skinny bald man in overalls came out and started yelling and beating the girl with a length of rope. I sighed and returned to the first floor.
[Its the same in every world I guess]
I learned that my parents are named Bols and Neela. It took a while because A I tend to zone in and out of their conversations as I mentally stumble over the unfamiliar language and B Bols speaks only slightly more often than he bursts into green flames and gives birth to unicorns.
He was pacing back and forth across the room that served as the bakeries selling floor. Every second or third thumping step was accented by a grunt or muttered curse. Seemed he was in a bad mood. My mother Neela said something that seemed to calm him after which he settled his great bulk into a sturdy wooden chair that creaked under his weight. Bols began tapping his foot in impatience after a moment causing my mother to sigh before shuffling off to continue whatever it was she was busying herself with. I stood near the counter staring at Bols . After a moment he noticed me, took a deep calming breath before displaying a big toothy grin.
The tale has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation.
[The hell?!]
His teeth were... Amazing to say the least. Huge white slabs each the size of my hand crowded his mouth but what really set them apart where the four big fangs that jutted up from his lower jaw. Id never noticed before as the great bear of a man spent most of his time working and said little when he was around me. I then noticed that his ears were slightly pointed and the nails on his fingers where abnormally thick and long.
[Ok.... That is different]
He seemed to pick up on my observations and grumbled something that I could only understand a little of. I picked out the words "Rock" and "Half" as well as my own name. He snorted at the confused look on my face and was about to say more when a knock came at the door. Bols clamped his teeth shut as he lurched to his feet. He stomped over and swung the door open wide startling the person on the other side.
[ah]
I recognized this one. It was the girl from the mill Id seen earlier from the window. She was younger than I thought. Perhaps 5 or 6 years of age. Her thread-worn tunic and short pants were sweat stained and smudged with flour in places. Her arms and legs were thin and bruised and the left side of her face was red. She had a mop of unkempt black hair tied back with an old bandanna to keep it out of her face. She was a cute little urchin under the grime and bruises. She got over her shock and stooped to lift the heavy looking sack at her feet. Bols stopped her and lifted it as easily as if it were filled with helium instead of flour. He then pulled the girl inside with his other hand and closed the door before lumbering into the back rooms with the sack. I watched him go then turned to the girl who stood staring at her feet nervously in the center of the room looking much like an abandoned puppy.
I walked over and stood directly in front of her. She took a half step back and averted her eyes from my gaze. She wasn't very much taller though she was clearly older than I. Her height was perhaps 6 or 7 inches above my own. I took another half step forward which caused her to back away again. I admit that I was starting to enjoy her reactions. I kept moving toward her until she had backed herself into the wall. Now she looked frightened and near panic. I reached out a hand and flinching back she squeezed her eyes shut as if bracing herself for a hit.
[Wow.... This kid has it rough}
I started dusting the dirt and flour from her clothing with my small infants hands. The girl stood rigid against the wall not daring to move or breath. After a while I Stepped back and stared up at her. She just stood there shivering slightly with eyes shut and lip quivering.
[So afraid of everything...shit.......]
She reminded me of my youngest cousin back in Louisiana....before my uncle went nuts and played chicken with a freight train while she and her mother were tied up in the trunk of his car. She too was a frightened little creature but I always liked the kid. She dint cry at the sight of me which was a rarity. Seeing this child react like this put me in an oddly protective mood. I reached over and grabbed her hand but she remained rigid. I attempted to pull her away from the wall to a chair but no luck. It was like she was glued to the plaster. I then noticed something odd. She had two slight bulges under her bandanna and what seemed to be a....tail?
A tail. A real tail wrapped around her waist in an attempt to hide it. Tail..... I couldn't stop myself. I grabbed it.
"Kaaah!"
She screamed out as I pulled her long black tail out from under her tunic. She seemed to lose all strength and nearly fell over. It was a strange thing to see. A tail. Long and dark with a leaf shaped tip that squirmed around curling itself around my hand.
[Neat]
She slumped to her knees gasping while keeping her eyes firmly closed. I then used my other hand to touch her bandanna where the two bumps were. They felt hard. Interesting. Her tail continued to squirm around my arm the tip lightly slapping against my wrist. It tickled a bit so I stopped rubbing her head and gripped the leaf shaped tip of her tail in my hand and squeezed it softly. She gasped and her eyes shot open.
Our eyes finally met and I froze. Purple eyes. They seemed to suck me in, captivate, and calm me all at once. I thought I saw swirling silvery flecks of light dancing within her pupils. She looked absolutely terrified now and her eyes began to tear up. I thought for sure she was going to cry. I released her tail and patted her on the head like I used to do with my cousin. She was doubly shocked by my action and again went rigid but looking more confused than afraid. I heard gasps from behind me. I turned to see my parents looking at us with amazed expressions on their faces. I turned back around to look at the girl and saw she was back to looking afraid. I patted her again sensing that this was all somehow my fault before walking back out of the room.
[Think I did something bad there... Maybe touching a girls tail is harassment here or something.]
I heard Bols and Neela whispering excitedly between themselves as I climbed the stairs to the second floor. I thought to keep my interactions with others to a minimum until I master the language. I hated this feeling of impotence that came from not understanding the words of those around me. I needed to start talking soon. That should speed up the learning process. Once I get that down Ill ask about things like horns, tails, and over-sized teeth.