Feeling Reborn

Getting the Job Done

I told myself to get it done by today, and holy duckballs, I actually got myself to. I've been pushing this back for way too long.

[Edits made. It's now just a normal middle school.]

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Erratum stared at the mountain of stuff before him.

It was quite a pain to lug everything up three flights of stairs (he didn't trust the elevator), and now that he squished it all through the entrance, he had no idea what to do with the newly-bought 'home essentials'.

Box, after box, after box stacked in front of him. He reached out to the tip of the figurative iceberg and snatched the smallest box out of them all: a desk lamp. Seemed easy enough. According to the manual inside... Gah, who was he kidding, he could barely see shit, let alone fine print on a ten centimetre-long paper.

Most of it was guesswork. Like screwing in a light bulb, or using screws to attach two pieces of wood together. Of course, since he didn't have any tools on hand, Erratum just used his bare hands to smash nails in the proper area, probably terrifying his neighbors in the process, or used his long, bone fingers to screw the rest on. It was effective, really, although it sometimes left traces of dust around the edges, which you couldn't really notice unless you squinted extremely pointedly at one spot out of boredom. Then, you might observe a speck of glimmering Monster dust in the grooves of a screw, or an incredibly fine silver layer around nuts and bolts. Anyway, it wasn't like Erratum was one to invite humans or Monsters alike to his 'humble abode'.

(But then he figured out that it was a lot easier to use his strings and lay back a bit.)

Half a day later, Erratum, Deviate and Nil sat on the olive green couch, embroidered with small white flowers, in the middle of pale, sunny yellow walls and homely ivory carpeting, surrounded by fresh furniture and the smell of drying paint. Several stout oak bookshelves lined the wall, their shelves yet to be filled completely. A tall lamp stood next to them, shedding a golden halo of light across the room, while an olive green a shade lighter than the couch restrained the rays of the setting sun from flowing in. They had bought multiple light gray and black cushions, all of which were piled around them in a snug fort.

Just... Sinking into the fluffy cushions and basking in warmth... A tiny voice in the back of his head chanted how something bad was going to happen (nothing good ever lasts), but... For the children. (Who were fast asleep) Erratum will not move. Like a good fath- guardian.

At least, until the doorbell rings.

Instantly, his eyes snapped open (when had he closed them?) and the now-pinpricks bore a hole through the door, magic manifesting at his fingertips.

He tread slowly towards the door, bare feet clacking against the cold dark wood floor..

Carefully, he twisted the brass doorknob and tugged it open, just a crack. A familiar heart-faced human, dark eyes pitifully darting around-meeting anywhere but the skeleton's mismatched eye sockets, revealed herself at the door, a long violet gift bag and a slip of paper in hand.

Ah. T'was the girl who cried 'kidnapper'.

Erratum raised a bone brow at her. Subtly, he dimmed his glowing blue magic and opened the door wider.

She fidgeted with a strand of her short brown hair before squeaking out a timid, "Hi...". Once that one word was out, she realized that she had underestimated the total awkwardness of the situation for her, and a light blush formed across her cheeks.

She cleared her throat. "I, uh... Would like to apologize for earlier... What I said was totally uncalled for, and I, um, would like to make it up to you with, um, this?... It's chocolate... Not that it will atone for that incident, but, um... Oh, geez, let me start from the top."