Movie Magic

[save_theworld]

It's not a dirty apartment, but it's not the cleanest, either. Things are stacked in a...somewhat orderly fashion, the worst of the mess apparently the current fixation. The sink is stacked high with dishes. A few cupboards are open, revealing that every single one is empty.

The kitchen bench is laden with them all. Hard to say how long they've been there for. But they are getting cleaned now! Grit needs a stool to actually reach the sink, and it wobbles under their feet with every move they make. In the lounge, the television is on; booming out some cartoon show for background noise. The world outside the window is dark.

And that's it, for at least ten minutes. Just Grit, washing the dishes. Stacking them up on the drying rack, emptying the soapy water into the drain when it gets too dirty. Taking up a towel and getting those clean dishes back in the cupboards, just to have a little room to do some more.

A glance, at the clock on the wall. It's...eight-thirty.

And then it's nine-thirty.

Then it's eleven.

The place isn't exactly spotless by the time they're done, but it's a sight better than before. They tuck their stool under the table (so it's not a tripping hazard). They move into a tiny bedroom, for a few minutes, come back out in some baggy pjs. Toddle to the bathroom, brush their teeth. Get a glass of water, and set it on the little plastic coffee table in front of the couch.

They take another glance at the clock.

Eleven-thirty.

Grit falls asleep on the couch.

It's hard to tell if it's the next day, in this scene. Perhaps, it's just a day.

The sky is overcast when the child (are they the same age, here? Are they younger? It's so hard to tell) lets themself out of the apartment building. There's a tiny umbrella in their hand; rainbow colors obvious even if it's folded up.

They walk the several blocks necessary to get to school.

But at least they know the road rules.

As Grit walks up the steps to their classroom, the "camera" doesn't follow. It keeps panning over to the left, the color of the sky shifting just the right amount, rain falling, then clearing. Children begin to shout, the clamor of games being played. They come into sight as the building ends, rushing across a grassy field, playing what they will.

There's a mountain in the distance. Rather than join their peers in the games being played, Grit seems rather content to just sit and stare up at it, either completely unaware that a small group of girls are approaching them, or ignoring them completely.

They don't seem to like that.

"You know what they say about that mountain?" One of the kids pipes up (likely the leader, from the way she stands in the middle, chin raised in a challenging manner), folding their arms when Grit glances up at her. "People who go up Mount Ebott disappear."

....She doesn't continue until it's obvious there's not going to be a response.

"People take heaps of stuff up there, and it all disappears. Because that's what happens to stuff people don't want. It disappears."

Again. No response.

"Maybe your dad should take you up there, too."

....

Eventually, one of the other girls begins to complain about being bored- "They never say anything, lets go play."- and off they go. Back into the thick of children, trying to make the most of whatever time is left of their recess. And still, Grit doesn't move...though, perhaps, their fingers are curled a little tighter against their palms.

Their eyes flick to the kid's retreating backs.

Then back to the mountain.

It's a beautiful day outside. Birds are singing, flowers are blooming.

It really is the perfect day to play a game of catch.

Grit's not playing catch, however. They're seated on a fallen tree trunk, a man crouched before them. There's...not much family resemblance, really. But they seem rather attentive to him all the same as he pats one of their knees, lips twitching into an awkward smile that's more than a little nervous.

It is not the smile of a man who doesn't understand he's doing wrong.

"Just a couple of minutes, sport. I'll be right over that way," A vague point in some direction. "And you just- wait here, alright? I'll be right back."

Grit looks at him. It's not the look of a child who doesn't understand what's happening. But still, they nod, and he lets out a slow breath as he stands, ruffling their hair in a distracted manner. He doesn't even look at them as he leaves.

He doesn't even walk in the direction he pointed.

The woods are quiet, but they're hardly dark and deep. Grit can still see the town from here, and the slope they're on does nothing to hide the way the ground continues to curve upwards, ending in a peak that's still a long ways away. They're as close to it as they are to the small city sprawled out in the distance, possibly.

...A few minutes pass. The sound of him walking away gets quieter, until it can't even be heard at all. It's late, but there's very little they can do about that. Grit's the only one there to hear themself speak.

"Okay."

They don't stay still for much longer. Pushing off their seat, Grit stumbles the landing, but they don't seem to notice. They look at the town.

And then they walk in the other direction.

It’s getting dark; so dark that they can hardly see the path in front of them, or the silhouettes of trees against the purple-black sky.

Regardless, they have two options, in a situation like this. To stop or keep going. And they keep going. Keep tripping on rocks and scuffing up their hands until they’re out of bandages with smiley faces on them to place over the new cuts, but still, Grit doesn't stop. Just pauses from time to time, to transfer a bandage from one part of their skin to another. It's uh...not all that hygienic, but it's something.

There’s a stitch in their side, but they can’t really do anything about that. They huff out their breaths and it hurts; and when the shadows seem to hide stuff that moves and doesn’t and does, they huff harder. Scared?

No.

Grit winds up sprawling when the path ahead of them abruptly levels out. More scratches and no band-aids... that’s okay. They lay their with their arms flat against the ground, and stare straight ahead, because the dark is never really as dark as it likes to think it is. Eventually, they’ll see something.

A mouth looms over them. It’s so high, so wide. Set into the ground in such a way that it looks like the mountain is trying to bite down, eat it’s way to the ground far below. To the little lights of a little town, twinkling in the distance. A cave. It’s a cave, way up here. All alone.

Slowly getting to their feet, they dust themselves off, gently petting one corner of the mouth as they approach. Grit doesn't have a torch, or any source of light at all, really, but they enter the cave anyway. One step at a time, waiting for the dark to stop pretending it’s darker than it actually is.

What little light that sense of nonsensical belief brings isn’t much. There’s nothing but shapes and walls and more shapes; a floor that sinks in and leaps in oddly frantic motions. They crouch down to feel them. Vines. Curious, they lean forward, feel a little more. Vines.

And a patch of darkness. Darker and darker still. If they squint, they can see the way it curves around in front of them, another gaping maw that disappears out of their poorly imagined field of vision.

A mountain with a mouth with a hole that went on forever.

Perhaps so much so, that anything falling into it would just fall forever too. It’s a thought that gives way to a moment of pause, an idea that sticks and stays when dusty fingers curl around a tiny stone, gently pitching it over the side.

 

It falls.

 

It falls and falls and falls, with no sound to make. No answer. Would it keep falling, forever? Would anybody know? Would anybody care?

Mount Ebott. The mountain where everything disappeared.

A tremulous breath escapes them. A sigh, perhaps; of pain, or regret, or relief. A mingling mixture of words and emotions that had escaped their capability to perceive so far, though they feel them anyway. They all fall away. The world falls away. It all falls away, disappearing, quiet.

They wipe clammy palms on their pants, thumbs idly tugging on the inside of their sleeves. In an almost idle fashion, they spread their arms.

They tilt. Ever so slowly, hair pitching forwards then back across their cheeks, the gentle build turning into a gusting rush as they let the mountain swallow them whole. Falling forever? It doesn’t sound so bad.

Mount Ebott. The mountain where everything disappeared.

 

The mountain people took things they didn’t want anymore.













And perhaps, if anyone sat there long in stunned silence long enough?

They'd get a sneak preview for the sequel.
 

Comments

Matsus React To: KID...: THE MOVIE

[firstloser]

He knows the story. Part of the story, anyway. Way back during their little tea party under the moonlight, Grit confided in Larix about their conflicting emotions about the father who abandoned them. Larix in turn divulged a little about his bittersweet love for the brothers who would just as easily throw him away. But as Larix also said at the time, it was no use dwelling on things or holding grudges, so the exchange was tucked away neatly in the back of his mind so he could focus his attention on simply enjoying the kid's company and how quickly they were growing on him.

And they're growing on him fast. It's not like anyone of his ilk to concern themselves too much with other people. They're a rowdy bunch of selfish, lazy NEETs who live to make even each other miserable, after all. Maybe that's why Larix enjoys Grit's company so much. They're nothing like the rest of them at all. But they make Larix want to change that. He wants to be more like Grit.

They already have loneliness in common. Their teatime chat plays through Larix's mind as the movie plays on the screen, as do a handful of other, more painful memories.

Why were you even born, K̴̸͢͡[̛̛]̷̸͘͢͞r̨̡ą̷͝m̷̵̨͠[̧͏̢͘]̴́͡[̴͏]̨́͞͝s̡͜[̡̛͞]̛̀̕̕͠?

You're so painful!

How was I supposed to know that when I kidnapped you, your family wouldn't care at all?!

I hate you.



If someone abandons you, you're allowed to be mad... right?

What he's feeling now... he can't tell if it is anger, or whether it's directed at his own memories or at Grit's. Whatever it is, it hurts. A heavy weight in his chest, burning like acid, but also hollow and empty as he watches the Grit on screen plunge into darkness. It's not fair. None of this is fair. No child should have those feelings.

It's not like a Matsuno to be too concerned with other people.

So why is he crying?

[standingonmyneck]

Riye had forgotten something. Back at the theater. As much as she didn't want to go back there right now, it was important. It was something she had in her pocket, and it was her old wallet that she earned from working. The wallet was the only thing she had from her home now. Even though her id or other cards weren't in there, the wallet held some money.

She had to get that wallet back, she was sure she dumped it here when she was in an actual hurry. She looked everywhere else by now anyway. All lost and founds all over the town and businesses. This was the only place and she hated that.

Looking at the lost and found, sure enough, here it was.

Thank goodness.

She was just about to leave when she caught an image of Grit from the theater. No, don't look at it. It was happening again.

She stood there for a few seconds as she pondered that, unwillingly catching glimpses of the kid in that apartment. Washing those piles of dishes. The scene played out, and Riye...a crack in her soul appeared. She remained.

She walked in, and sat in the back.

She couldn't leave the theater, despite her knowing she should.

She watched the kid walk alone and sit quietly by themselves as someone talked about the mountain. She watched the scene unfold on the mountain. With their father.

The man who abandoned that kid there. Their father.

Disgusting.

Riye knew, she knew the moment she met them. This kid suffered somehow. The kid suffered and wanted nothing more than to find yellow. Happiness with other people.

They were polar opposites. Where Riye spent a lot of time in her life resorting to being an outcast of her own volition through her behavior. Because it felt better to be yourself than be fake to other people, because it was easier to miss out on things than be hurt by people who you wanted to trust, and because books were better company than people any day.

But the kid found so many people that loved them, by being themselves. Despite their pain.

They were a far better person than she even knew. They were a far better person than her.

The world beat up this child and the world was something Riye spent so long avoiding so she wouldn't be.

They were an individual, a truest sense of the word.

Riye's heart shattered, anxiety touched her chest and she even found herself cupping her mouth with her hand.

I'm not alone and I'm okay and I'm happy I can help people.

Being hurt is really hard. I'm not giving up thogh. A friend of mine? She says that you should wear yellow because its the happiest color.

I don't wear yellow much but I'm trying to be yellow. That counts right?

It did, she told them. It really did.