“…First off, you should know that you’re not the only one making a sacrifice here,” Jack began. “There’s only one way that I know of to make a new author, and that’s for an existing author to gift them the starting materials: an Odsplut, and an implement to practice with.
“You can practice with my book, but I could hardly give you a new piece of my Odsplut, with the way things are now…fortunately, you brought Gin’s, and it’s agreed to give itself up for you.”
The Caramel Odsplut chirped proudly from inside Dreadli’s cupped hands.
She looked at it, surprised and a bit ashamed. “…’Give itself up’??” she asked. “Will it…have to die…?”
Jack scratched his head. “I wouldn’t call it ‘dying’, exactly…although this version of it will cease to exist. The way it’ll look and act as your Odsplut will be entirely up to you.”
Dreadlilocks frowned. “I…maybe I’m just being silly, but…I feel kind of bad about taking it over. It’s done so much to help me…”
“It’s doing this to help you, too. I mean, you heard it screeching before…it insists. And I promise, you’re not going to hurt it.”
“Well…what do I have to do?”
“Eat it.”
“…What…??”
“I could try to explain, but we don’t exactly have all the time in the world…yet. So just eat the thing so we can get started.”
A case of theft: this story is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.
Dreadlilocks bit her lip, then took a deep breath. She took one last look at the swaying, hummingbird-shaped blob.
Then she squeezed her eyes shut, kissed it lightly on its face, and quickly swallowed it whole.
~~
The next thing she knew, Dreadli found herself waking up in an old, familiar place.
It was a little one-room house, with a few pieces of humble wooden furniture pushed up against the walls. She herself was seated in a chair that was a bit too big, in front of a dying hearth that filled the dark cottage with a warm, dreamy, amber-colored atmosphere.
She shifted her arm, and felt a sharp pinprick. Then she looked down and saw that she was underneath a half-finished quilt, covered in needles and pins.
“Isn’t it about time you got into bed, pumpkin…?” a voice said from behind.
Dreadli looked up and turned around.
Mama Bear was standing by the stove, holding a couple of mugs on a tray. “…I haven’t been able to sleep,” she said. “But it’s plain to see that you aren’t having the same problem…”
She brought the tray over to Dreadlilocks, who could do nothing but stare in disbelief. “Come on, have some tea and get to bed,” she continued. “You can finish the quilt tomorrow…I hope you haven’t hurt your neck, falling asleep in Papa’s chair…”
Tentatively, Dreadlilocks took one of the mugs. “…I’m…fine…” she said quietly, almost in a whisper.
Mama Bear lifted the quilt top, and Dreadli got up from the chair.
“…Your stitching is getting better,” Mama Bear said, holding up the cloth. “I’ll start looking around for some batting for you, and soon we’ll have a wonderful new quilt for the winter~.”
“…But it’s ugly,” Dreadlilocks said, drawing on memories she had all but forgotten. “All the pieces are different sizes, and the stitches keep falling apart…”
“Well, it’s only your first one, pumpkin. You have to learn to walk before you can run…now, if you finish this up, next year I’ll teach you to do a pattern. Alright?”
Dreadli smiled weakly. “…Alright,” she replied.
“So, this is the kind of thing you dream about. Very touching; lots of pathos,” said a new voice from behind.
Dreadli turned around again, this time facing the door. And to her surprise she found Jack standing there, leaning against it.
“…Well, you know what they say; time’s a-wastin’,” he said. “Let’s get to work.”