Wild Card Wednesday is a challenge between us. Each will provide a prompt to the other. That prompt will allow us 1000 words or so to complete the challenge.
Since today is my birthday, Aaron Hall geniusly prompted me with: A Poisoned Birthday Cake. Enjoy.
There was a shuffling sound followed by a clunk. Riffraff shoved his big, round, eyeball closer to the crack in the closet door. He peered out and saw the tall squeaky-voiced one. It had just put a glass of clear liquid on the table near the tiny one’s bed. It was leaning over to…what is it doing? It was sucking the little one’s face off! Oh, wait, no—it’s okay. He heard the tall one say, “goodnight,” and the light clicked and they were in darkness.
Darkness was what Riffraff liked best of all. He liked some things, and hated a great deal more. He enjoyed darkness and fire as well as garbage and the smell of dead things rotting. But most of all, he liked darkness.
Once he was sure that the little thing wasn’t going to get out of bed he shut his eyes tightly and made his hairy body dematerialize through the closet floor. When he regained his shape—hunched over and broken looking—he was hidden within the pantry, surrounded by cans and bags of stuff these creatures called food. Riffraff had once tried to eat one of the tin cans, it nearly sliced his mouth wide open. He never tried again.
Riffraff pushed ever-so-softly on the pantry door. It was one of those doors with hinges in the middle so when pushed, it folded inward. The tall one was just coming down the stairs. It’s finger flipped a switch on the wall and, click, a new light came on in the kitchen. It was bright. Riffraff hated brightness. He winced and recoiled back, further into the pantry.
The tall one, using its squeaky voice did something that Riffraff had once heard someone refer to as singing. It was when one talked in an odd sort of way. Holding out some syllables longer than others, raising and lowering one’s voice at what seemed to be random times. He wasn’t completely sure what the purpose of it was, it sounded to him like it was invoking an incantation of some sort, but nothing happened when the spell was completed.
The long-haired creature grabbed a small black contraption off of the counter and pointed it like a wand into another room. Riffraff heard another click and then a loud booming noise. Someone was talking in the other room. Others were laughing! He looked. No one was there! Perhaps this long haired, impossibly tall, creature was performing a spell of some sort. A witch. Riffraff hadn’t expected to meet anyone of such great power when he’d taken this assignment to murder the tiny one.
He had received the assignment the same way he received all assignments. A small envelope filled with paperwork and pictures. Along with it, a square-shaped box that showed a glowing set of numbers—time and date. When Riffraff pressed the button on the small box he would find himself falling through the very fabric of time and space. The first couple of trips he had landed hard, once almost breaking his leg. But as the years passed and Riffraff experienced the sensation enough, he learned to control his descent. It actually became quite a pleasant ride.
“It’s true though,” Riffraff heard the deep voice speaking from the next room, “Donald Trump really is making jobs—even now—for the middle class.”
Riffraff heard the cacophony of voices making some kind of a “booooooooo” sound.
“Yeah, yeah,” the voice continued, “it’s true. He’s paying them to come to his rallies!”
There was a violent eruption of laughter that came afterward. How many hundreds of people were in this home? Riffraff began to worry that this task was going to be harder to pull of than previously expected.
“In related news,” the man continued, “we have our current President here with us.”
The voices raised a great and mighty shout of victory.
“It was kind of him to take time off of rigging the election to be with us.”
Riffraff turned his attention back to the tall one in the kitchen. The choir of voices from the other room roaring with sounds of shock and horror. They continued to speak, but Riffraff didn’t have time for them. He had a job to do, and he was convinced that the others were preoccupied enough with their engagement to worry about what he and the creature in the kitchen were doing.
The witch had already pulled out a white liquid from the fridge as well as what appeared to be a container filled with unborn animal babies in a sort of protective shell. Riffraff’s kind gave birth to their children live, but he believed these things were called eggs. The tall one turned and was now heading directly for him. As it stepped closer, Riffraff panicked. He searched frantically for a place to hide. The door opened wide. With a soft poof sound, Riffraff dematerialized. The creature closed the closet door, leaving Riffraff unnoticed. Immediately, Riffraff rematerialized and he held his hairy side with one clawed hand. Each time he disappeared and reappeared took a great deal of his power away. It was actually painful. He didn’t have much strength left and he would need to use his abilities at least once more to leave this place and return to the underworld.
He watched as the witch’s hand stirred a bunch of ingredients into a large bowl. It then poured in contents from the box it had grabbed from the pantry, stirring wildly the whole time. The witch is making a potion!
There was a faint song playing in the distance—a sort of chiming sound. The tall one heard the sound as well. It put down the spoon and bowl and ran upstairs. Riffraff poofed upstairs and followed the witch.
“Hello?” the creature said into a rectangular unit placed against its ear. It then sat on the bed and continued talking to the device.
“Yeah, it’s Greyson’s birthday tomorrow. I’m making his cake right now. He’s going to love it.”
Ah, this potion was for the little one’s day of birth! The answer had presented itself.
Riffraff took advantage of the witch’s temporary distraction. He dematerialized back into the kitchen, looked around cautiously to be sure than none of the others had found their way into the room. They were still laughing and joking next door. He was sure that the coast was clear. He snuck out of the closet, popped open a small vial that he had kept hidden in his cloak. The liquid inside was blue and had the appearance of something very hot. It sort of bubbled inside the vial.
He poured the lot of it into the mixture on the counter and stirred it up. Confident that the poison would be eaten by the entire household, he closed his eyes tight and poofed away.
Another job completed, he thought as he zoomed through time and space.