Oliver Madison Crewey's Story

Nothing compared to the soothing sound of earth beneath Ollie's boots. After parking her bike next to a tree and covering it with the tarp, she'd set out through the forest, backpack in hand, stocked with a lunch of fruit and sandwiches, a blanket, several machine parts, a construction manual for a miniature robot figurine, and tools.

Swinging the bag lazily, Ollie shifted into a skip-step, not fully skipping, but not at all walking. She hummed a cheerful tune, running her fingers across the tree trunks. She was at ease within the depths of the forest, peacefulness radiated around her. Her feet carried her to the edge of a lake, where she sat down to spread out her blanket before unloading the rest of her pack. Ollie collapsed onto her back, picking up a sandwich and cracking open the construction manual. Ollie nibbled casually on the ham and cheese as she read, putting headphones in and setting her iPod to shuffle.

Jolting awake with a start, Ollie sat up, nearly knocking her book into the lake. Her face itched and tickled, as if bugs were crawling all over it. Wiping a face across her cheek, she was surprised (and disgusted) to see it coated heavily in ants, squirming in a horrid attempt to free themselves from her grasp. They were everywhere: on her backpack, her face, her hair; it occurred to Ollie that she'd fallen asleep with her sandwich on her face and her lunch wide open, obviously attracting the miniature demons to her blanket. It also occurred to Ollie that they were still everywhere.

With a squeal, she took off her sweatshirt to reveal a navy and white stripped bathing suit as she began an arial attack on the bugs with the shirt. Hopping from foot to foot around the blanket and proving to herself that no matter what she might think, she was absolutely terrified of bugs.

"Why did I even choose to come to the stupid lake after that stupid trip here?" She hissed, now dumping all of her stuff out of the pack.

When the ants proved to be too much of a problem, she, after smothering another squeal with her free hand, picked up the half eaten food and tossed it several feet away from her belongings, slipping out of her shorts and boots, and diving into the cold lake.

"I guess I'm awake now." She grumbled, securing a float on her back.

The cold chill of the lake sent shivers down Ollie's spin, tingling her fingers and toes. Her short brown hair fanned out around her head but when it began to tickle her shoulders and neck, she swam back to shore, dug a hat from the recesses of her bag, and, after furiously shaking it to be sure there were no bugs, tucked the wet strands inside as best she could. She could tell it looked sloppy, so instead she took it off, shook her head a bit to get the wet hair back in its rightful place, and put the hat on backwards, its flat rim pointing towards the ground. The ants had cleared away from what she could tell, so, she slipped back into her shorts and boots, but not before emptying the contents of her pack, shaking everything off, and putting everything back so she could make her way back to her bike.

Her toes felt slimy and cramped in her boots and Ollie made a mental note to dry her feet before ever trying to wear boots. She enjoyed the scenery though. It was unlike life on the road; picturesque, breathtaking. There were downfalls to the scenery, like the irritating feeling of bugs crawling across her skin, despite the fact that there was probably nothing there at all. It made her think about all of the little skin crawling things that were more or less a fragment of the imagination. At least on her precious motorcycle, the wind was too ferocious for her to hear her own thoughts, much less daydream. It didn't matter much to her, because she was often sure that her mind played tricks on her, like, for instance, she was positive she could see a boy sitting by the edge of the lake cleaning the hooves that extended from the furry mass of his legs. The closer she got, the more realistic it looked. She felt compelled to at least say hi.

Someone's obviously never heard of a razor, she thought, picturing a razor getting tangled in the thick fur and giggling foolishly.

"You look like you've had a rough day," Ollie said, plopping down beside him. It briefly occurred to her that she probably looked a mess, but it was nothing compared to his dirty shirt and the hatred and anger that radiated from his persons.

L E O P O L D • P R A T T

“You look like you’ve had a rough day.”

Leopold looked up with an expression equivalent to that of a drowning man who had just been told he’s slightly damp and gave the newcomer a onceover. “Yeah, well you’re not so hot yourself, honey.” He scoffed and returned to glowering at his hooves. Leo’s ears swiveled towards the sound of a body dropping beside him and arched a thick, inquiring brow. When the girl made no move to leave, Leopold sighed and let his prickly aura deflate, “He just doesn’t understand how mad he makes me. Or maybe he does and gets a kick out of seeing me all riled up. The sick bastard.” He fumed, ears twitching irritably, “That douche-canoe had the fucking gall to flick dirt on my face! Right below my eye!” He jabbed a painted nail at the spot for emphasis and let out a frustrated snarl. “Sometimes I just want to pound his smug little face into the mud, he just makes me so mad, ya know?” He sighed heavily, body sagging, “Gods, I hope his karma is a bitch.”

Inhaling deeply he let out a sharp breath and a considering hum, “Ya know, that actually felt way better than blogging.” He flicked his gaze over the young woman again. The small smile of appreciation vanished as quickly as it appeared, replaced by a frown and a sigh. "Honestly, sweetie," Leopold lifted a limp strand of hair from her face, "Ever heard of conditioner?"