literature

[HPM] 2spooky4me

Deviation Actions

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    BEEP BEEP BEEP BEEP BEEP BE-

    Clara groaned, throwing her arm out from under the warm cocoon of blankets that she was currently enveloped in. Her open palm smacked at the source of the racket, finally making contact with the snooze button of her alarm after a few failed attempts. The young woman was normally a morning person, recovering quickly from post-sleep delirium and never one to linger under the covers longer than normal, no matter how cozy they were. When you were a rancher, your day had to always start early no matter what the date was, and sleeping in was a luxury she couldn’t afford right now.

    Yawning, Clara pulled herself up into a sitting position and ran a hair through her hair. It seemed a little more unruly than usual today, but that was probably because she had forgotten to tie it back into a braid. Normally she had to resort to braiding her hair every night before bed or she was convinced it would get a mind of its own and try to strangle her in her sleep. Well, not really. But it seemed that way, sometimes!

    Without much thought she flicked on the bedside lamp, casting the room in a warm light. It was 5:00am, and since it was the middle of January there wasn’t going to be a trace of sun in the sky for a few hours. The rancher pulled back the covers and swung her feet over the carpeted floor of her room, intending to start today like any other day. However, when she tried to step from her bed to the floor she realized that something was very, very wrong.

    Clara let out a shriek, scarcely believing her eyes. Her feet were barely there, looking translucent at best. She could clearly see the white carpet underneath them, and the barest traces of a shadow she appeared to be casting. Nervously she held out her arms, expecting to see the same results. However, they appeared to be as normal as ever.

    Was she still dreaming?! Clara tried pinching herself, but oddly enough she really didn’t feel much of anything. Oh man, she had to be dreaming…

    Experimentally she tried to step off the bed, waiting to sink into the floor. However, such a result didn’t happen. Instead, Clara found herself floating above the floor as she had magnets repelling her from the ground. She hovered a good few inches off the ground, and nervously Clara sucked in her breath. What was going on?!

    Suddenly she heard frantic yips from behind the doorway, and realized with a start that Alaska must have heard her yell from where he had been sleeping. In the colder months he occasionally liked to sleep by the hearth if it was left burning into the night, and the previous evening the Growlithe had fallen asleep quite early in front of the crackling fireplace. She heard the scrabbling of little puppy feet down the hardwood floor approaching the door, and his barks drew nearer in tandem until there was a soft bump on the bedroom’s closed door.

    “I-I’m fine, Alaska,” Clara called out, her voice wavering a bit. But was she really? The rancher tried to take a step forward, but found that her legs didn’t quite work the same way she remembered. Instead, she ended up floating forward almost as if she was ice skating.

    There was a confused whine from the other side of the closed door, and Clara could hear him pawing nervously. “I’ll be out in a minute, I promise,” she told him, trying to appease the little dog so that he wouldn’t worry. There wasn’t much of a response, but a moment later he gave a little bark that seemed to signify that he understood.

    Once she was sure Alaska wasn’t going to try and burn down the door (he almost did, on one occasion where she had a bad dream and woke up screaming in the middle of the night), Clara took a moment to try and calm herself down. Trying to keep a rational mind so that she didn’t lose her head, the rancher’s eyes swept across the little bedroom for something to focus on. That was when Clara noticed the dress that was hanging on the little hook on the back of the bedroom door.

    It was an article of clothing that she had never seen before, and it certainly looked old fashioned. The dress had pale white-lilac sleeves with dark pinstripes the color of eggplant, covered in the front by a dark grey piece of cloth that almost looked like an apron. This section was decorated with fringe on either side for a more elegant appearance. The dress had a banding of dark purple fabric that separated the top half from the portion that looked like a billowing skirt of the same shade, trimmed with what looked like white lace. A small cape rested over the dress’s shoulders, also edged with lace similarly to the skirt and sharing its color. A collar the same shade as the presumed “apron” was visible over it, with a small white bow hanging loosely underneath. Gazing down, Clara also noticed a pair of polished black Mary Janes sitting on the floor underneath a pair of dark stockings that hung below the dress.

    The rancher froze, not sure where it had come from. It certainly wasn’t hers, and nobody she knew had been by recently to leave it as a surprise gift. Normally she left her clothes stored away in her dresser and her shoes by the back door (her boots tended to get rather muddy from working the fields). This was something new.

    She hesitantly approached the attire, inspecting it and prodding at it experimentally. It didn’t seem volatile, at least. Biting the inside of her cheek, Clara decided to take this as some sort of sign. Maybe it was related to her strange floating. She pondered for a few moments, debating with herself. Should she try to put on the dress? What would happen if she did? But what if she just ignored it completely?
            Eventually Clara decided to try it on. Honestly, what was the worst that could happen? She was probably dreaming, anyway. Even if the whole pinching thing hadn’t worked out, it was still the only explanation.

    With this knowledge to reassure her, Clara changed out of her pajamas and into the new clothing that had been given to her. Sure, it wasn’t suitable for ranching, but maybe the dirt wouldn’t matter so much if she could float a few inches above it like she was doing now.

    She grabbed her hairbrush from the dresser that sat next to her bed and doubled as a sort of storage/nightstand once she finished, and set out to untangle her hair a bit before leaving the room. That was when she realized her hair wasn’t quite the same color that it had been when she went to sleep the night before.

    Having such long locks, Clara was able to see that her hair was now a lovely shade of lavender. For the second time that morning, the young woman froze in distress. What was going on?? Now considerably more alarmed, Clara abandoned the hairbrush where she had found it and yanked open the bedroom door, wasting no time in rushing to the bathroom that was down the hall.

    Alaska, who had been sitting patiently just outside the door for her, yelped a bit and skittered backwards, alarmed by the sudden action. The puppy, already confused, was made further so by the appearance of an unfamiliar person leaving Clara’s room. Hmm, he had never seen her before, but she sure smelled familiar… Alaska gave a few barks, hurrying forward to follow as she flew into the bathroom.

    Clara, meanwhile, made a beeline for the sink so that she could peer into its reflective surface. What she saw didn’t improve her mood in the slightest. Glowing red eyes stared back from her reflection, and two pointy purple ears stuck up from the top of her head, pressed flat in alarm. Her hair appeared to be defying gravity, as a few strands floated around her of their own accord as if caught in some nonexistent breeze.

    Clara’s mouth fell open in horror, and that was when she caught a glimpse of sharp, lethal-looking teeth that had taken the place of her normal buck teeth and average incisors and molars. She wanted to scream, but it was like her breath had been snatched away and all she managed was a little squeak of surprise.

    She was missing her big ears and long tail. Turning to the side, she could see that there appeared to be a small translucent nub of a tail that resembled a Deerling’s in size and shape in place of her normal ratlike tail.

    Slowly Clara assembled the pieces. She was floating, her legs transparent. Her eyes were now red and glowing, no longer their normal shade of mud-brown. The new dress and miniature cloak she was wearing seemed to sometimes float suspended a few inches in the air of its own accord, like the flyaway bits of hair that curled around her. She must have been

    Suddenly Alaska began barking again, approaching her slowly from the bathroom’s open doorway. He didn’t seem hostile, more confused than anything else. His ears were quirked at an angle that indicated confusion, and it didn’t look like he was sure if he should draw too near.

    “Alaska, it’s me, really,” Clara soothed again, turning to look at the little puppy. She bent down slowly, reaching out a hand slowly enough so that he would know she meant no harm. The rancher left it in front of his nose for the puppy to sniff curiously for a few moments. Just when Clara was beginning to grow concerned that he might not be able to make the connection, he perked up and his tail began wagging. He eagerly licked her hand, nuzzling against her fingers before letting his tongue hang out as he rushed around her in excited circles.

    She landed her hand softly on his head, giving him a few good pats. “Haha, exactly,” she confirmed. “I don’t know what happened; I woke up this morning and—”

    Abruptly Clara cut herself off when her hand vanished into Alaska’s fluff from where she had been scratching behind his ears. Normally it wasn’t that strange if she lost the tips of her fingers in the soft fur, but this was different. The entirety of her fingers had just passed through and seemed to have disappeared. Alaska gave a noise of discomfort before pulling himself back a bit, free of her touch.

    Looking down, Clara saw that her fingers were…gone. Just gone. “W-what?!” The rancher blanched, nervously waving her hand. She still felt like she had them. Biting her lip, Clara suddenly began furiously shaking her fingers in an effort to get them back. To her surprise, they seemed to materialize once again after a few vigorous swiped back and forth, looking as she remembered them. Seeing this, it was beyond clear what had happened to her.

    “Ohmygosh I’m a ghost! I died! I’m dead,” Clara wailed, her normally cheery disposition evaporating into one of despair. But she still had so much left to do! So much left to live for! How was she going to take care of Bucky and Alaska now?! Then she realized that despite the fact that she was now a ghostly apparition, she could still interact with the physical world, at least.

    Maybe this was some sort of grace period for her to sort her affairs before she lost touch entirely and became a real ghost? Or maybe she’d ascend to the afterlife or something. Regardless, Clara wasn’t so sure how long this effect would last. She should probably get her affairs in order right now, before it wore off or something.

    She was clear-headed enough to know that she needed to find someone who would be willing to take care of Alaska and Bucky first, and there was one resident whom she knew of as a specialized Mareep rancher right off the bat.

    Quickly Clara hurried back to her room, picking up her cellphone from where it rested on top of the dresser near her hairbrush. She unplugged the device from the charger and unlocked it, skimming through her contacts until she got to the “J”s.

    Strawberry Jam, referred to by Clara almost exclusively by her last name, was the first person who came to mind for the rancher to call. Pressing the button to dial, she kept the phone pressed close to her ear as she waited for her friend to pick up. Hopefully she wouldn’t drop her phone on the floor or something in her panic, or have it phase through her hand.

    It had only rung three times when suddenly the line connected and there was a “Hello?” from the other side.

    “Ohmygosh Jam hi!” Clara exclaimed, so glad to be talking to her friend. At least that was something normal. Since they were both ranchers, it was only natural that they’d both be up so early. A clock on Clara’s dresser displayed the time as 5:32am.

    Before Clara could say much more, Jam began talking at a rather speedy pace that almost rivaled Clara’s. "O-Oh! Omigosh! Clara, sweetie, are you alright? I've been calling people left and right, I'm sorry I didn't call you first! Are you okay? There's a blizzard outside and then I know there are...er....other things folks have been dealing with. Is Alaska okay? Are you okay? Should I send over anything?"

    Clara felt like tearing up and laughing at the same time, touched by Jam’s ever-present concern. Everyday things seemed so much more special when you were dead, she decided. “Hah, no, it’s okay,” she responded to Jam’s apology firstly, a little smile on her face. “I’ve been so preoccupied with things here that it completely slipped my mind,” she admitted truthfully.

    The past few days Clara had been prepping her little ranch for the inevitable incoming storm, reinforcing her fencing and stocking the barn with extra hay bales and food to keep Bucky warm. She had also mended a few holes in the barn’s exterior to keep the heat in. She had made sure to collect plenty of logs on the back porch to ensure that they wouldn’t run out of wood for the fireplace, either.

    She pulled back the bedroom curtain, seeing that the glass was frosted over and that there was a clearly visible amount of snow being blown around despite the dark early-morning conditions. It seemed the blizzard was still in full-swing, and there was a decent amount of snow accumulated already.

    “But there’s something else I wanted to talk to you about, actually,” Clara said, sounding oddly focused and serious for once. Normally she was known for her loudmouthed exclamations and spontaneity. “Something happened, and I don’t really know how to tell you,” she continued.

    ".......I'm right here, Clara, I won't go away. You can tell me anything." Jam’s voice came through the receiver sounding much more focused and steady, echoing Clara’s more subdued tones. It was clear that the Shelmet could pick up Clara’s urgency and distress.

    Clara paused for a moment before steeling her resolve and speaking up. “Jam, I…I know this is probably going to sound pretty silly, or crazy, even, but…I think I died in my sleep last night. I think I’ve turned into a ghost.” Saying it out loud would have normally been sort of embarrassing (it sounded insane, that’s for sure) but right now Clara was so utterly convinced that she had lost her life that she didn’t find it very funny at all.

    "........................."  There was a long, drawn-out silence after her words, and Clara was worried that Jam had hung up on her, or had muffled the phone so that she could hide her laughter. Then, sounding like she was very carefully enunciating each word, trying to keep her voice as steady as possible, Jam asked, "What makes you say that, sweetie?"

    “Well, um, I look different,” Clara started. “My hair is purple, my teeth are sharp, I have new ears, my long tail is gone,” she rambled. Saying everything out loud made it more crushing and realistic, and the rancher had to take a few deep breaths to keep her composure. The full weight of “being dead” hadn’t really settled in yet, and by telling Jam seemed to solidify it in reality.

    “A-And I’m floating, too!” Clara explained, voice on the verge of breaking. “My eyes are red and look like they’re glowing. I tried to pet Alaska and my hand went right through him,” she quavered. Her new purple ears had flattened down against her head while she spoke, displaying her distress. “I don’t even know what happened; I thought I was perfectly fine when I went to bed last night-!”

    This time there was little delay in Jam’s response. She was still speaking slowly, but it was evident that she was starting to speed up into her natural talking pace. "Uh huh, uh huh....oh my. You looked fine when I saw you last, you w-weren't s-sick or, or anyth—waitwaitwait—” At first some nervousness leaked through the Shelmet’s voice, before she suddenly halting herself in a bit of an abrupt rush.

    “W-what’s wrong?” Clara asked, voice confused as she scrubbed a little at her eyes to get rid of the tears that had started to form at the corners.

    "Clara, sweetheart, it's-it's ENTIRELY possible that you're just....not a Raticate. For now! Just for now. See, there was this circus that came into town, and even though there's a blizzard, no one can go see it—sorry, off-topic,” Jam said, her voice noticeably more level as she spoke. “But it's the strangest thing, whenever they come, apparently people's totems get all mixed up. I had a scare myself this morning, but I put the fire out, I can replace the flowers—sorry, getting off-topic again—” (Here Clara’s curiosity was piqued; she’d have to remember to ask Jam exactly what had happened once this whole fiasco had sorted itself out) “—But um, that could just be what you're going through. I should have realized before, I'm sorry,” the Shelmet finished with an apology, sounding apologetic and remorseful.

    Now it was Clara’s turn to be silent for a few moments as she took in Jam’s words, digesting them and trying to process exactly what it was that her friend was telling her. “Wait…” Clara said as she pieced everything together. Circus? Totem changes? The former Raticate suddenly found herself awash with feelings or what could only be described as relief and overwhelming joy.

    “Wait, wait,” she repeated, trying to fight off a smile as she was awash with emotions that were quite the opposite of her earlier despair. In fact, she had gotten herself so worked up that she didn’t even feel it when the phone slipped through her hand and fell on the carpeted floor by the side of her bed. “Ooops,” she exclaimed, diving for the device. She mentally willed herself to calm down a bit, and watched as her hand seemed to materialize back again after a few moments. Hm, so it seemed like whenever her emotions got out of hand she was prone to phasing in-and-out of transparency and corporeal form.

    “Sorry, I dropped the phone for a second,” Clara apologized when she had finally recovered the phone. “It fell out of my hand. Or through my hand, actually. Anyway, you mean that this doesn’t mean that I’m dead?” she asked, feeling like celebrating for a moment until something else dawned on her and her previous mood started to edge back. “But wait, am I going to be stuck with a ghost-type totem forever?” she asked, feeling like she had half her foot in the grave already. “Has this happened before? The way you said it made it seem like the circus has been here already,” the rancher said, wondering if Jam’s Shelmet totem was really hers, or if it was a result from this so-called “circus.”

    "Er, I moved here just less than a year ago, so all I know is that they come every winter and the effect is....about a month? And THEN everyone changes back. Well, almost everyone, I know a man who—b-but that's really unusual and almost never happens, and you really don't have to worry at all! Don't worry!” Jam soothed, making sure that Clara’s fears were put aside.  

    “I mean, there was that Hoenn incident, right? And then things went back to normal! Maybe you'll even find something you like about this! Like, my friend Surry said that if there's a blackout, I don't need to worry. Aaaaand...um...maybe you'll be surprised! Chin-up, Clara! It's only temporary!" Jam continued, making sure that her friend knew that it wasn’t the end of the world.

    Clara realized that Jam was right; she had turned into a Treecko for about a week sometime in November, hadn’t she? How could she have forgotten? It seemed like in her panic, Clara was even more scatterbrained than usual. “I guess you’re right,” the rancher decided, feeling a bit better now that she had time to process that this was only a month-long change. “Maybe this way I won’t have to worry about snow or cold, since I can’t really feel much of anything,” she mused. “But seriously, thanks for helping to clear everything up,” Clara said sincerely, finally feeling better about the situation knowing that she wasn’t dead and wasn’t stuck like this forever, either. “I was going to ask if you wouldn’t mind taking care of Bucky since I was dead, but now that I’m not anymore I can take care of him on my own! Actually speaking of taking care of things, I think Alaska still needs his bowl refilled for breakfast.”

    The puppy in question had followed Clara into her room not too long ago, and was curled up by the foot of the bed. It looked like he was close to falling asleep, but at the mention of his name he perked up a bit, head raising from where it was resting on his crossed paws. “Yep, definitely,” Clara said. “So would it be okay if I let you go? Sorry about calling so frantically and out of nowhere,” she apologized again, a bit sheepish. This was typical for the rancher though—actions first, think about consequences later. “I really appreciate all your help and patience.”

    "Sweetheart, I'm always happy to talk to you. Especially to make sure that you're, um, not dead. I'm glad I was able to help! And, it's good to hear you looking on the bright side of things. Take care, Clara! Be safe in this weather, okay?" Jam responded, sounding cheerful once again.

    “You too, Jam!” Clara told her before bidding farewell and hanging up the call and placing the phone back down. In her initial hysteria and then following relief, Clara realized she had never actually asked Jam what her totem had been swapped to. She made a mental not to call back her friend soon for a regular talk, or even perhaps visit once the storm had settled down and the paths were clearer.

    But for now, now there were plenty of chores to attend to. First on the agenda would be breakfast, just as she had told Jam. It would be interesting to see how cooking would be with ghost hands, the rancher mused. Maybe she could enlist Alaska as her sous chef. Taking things one step at a time, Clara decided that it would be best if she took this as a learning experience. If nothing else, it would be like a test-run for when she actually died, right?

    It was probably better to learn how to cook with ghost hands sooner rather than later so that she’d be prepared.

The first morning of her totem change, Clara's pretty darn convinced that she died in her sleep.
birdmir helped me out a bit and provided me with Jam's dialogue in response to whatever Clara was saying, so anything that Jammy says is totally canon and exactly what she'd say in that situation, hehe. :heart:

Word Count: 4017

Clara Skye © SacredLugia
Character for Harvest-Pokemoon
© 2015 - 2024 SacredLugia
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birdmir's avatar
Yo, I'm rereading this months later and it's STILL great