The next eight hours were the most restless hours of Amanda’s life. Not only did she find herself restless while she slept, but she also found herself awake every hour just to check on the minuscule boy.
A million worries consumed her mind.
Was he breathing okay?
Was he asleep?
Did he need to eat more frequently than a normal human?
What even was he?
Sprite?
Fairy?
Figment of her imagination? She hadn’t quite ruled that one out yet.
Had he been abandoned? If so, was his size because of a condition, and that was why he was left alone?
Or was he lost?
Where was his family?
And were they looking for him?
Worried, Amanda would push herself up onto her elbow, reach over, uncover the small boy, and watch with baited breath to make sure he was breathing.
Looking at the boy, she was awed by his features. Everything was proportional and indistinguishable from that of a human. The way his nose scrunched as he rolled over to how his little hands curled up to grasp the blanket by his face. Beneath the bruises and the thinned features was a handsome little boy.
All Amanda could think was how could anyone just leave him behind. He had to have gotten lost or, much to her dismay, something might have happened to his parents for him to be in such a state.
Heart aching at the thought of someone leaving him or losing him, Amanda decided to get up out of bed and stop wallowing in her thoughts. They were keeping her awake and she needed to keep her mind preoccupied if she was going to stay focused for the rest of the day. Besides, there was no point in tossing and turning any more than what she was doing already. She shoved the sheets and comforters over and shuffled to the kitchen for her morning ritual.
She brewed her coffee in what felt like record time and washed her face in the kitchen sink since her toiletries hadn’t been unpacked just yet. Amanda padded through her new home and quietly gathered her things in the stillness of the morning including her laptop and her meager breakfast. She brought them into her room and curled back into her bed before she began typing away on a report she had neglected to complete the day before.
She pulled the box over at one point once she got settled and kept an eye on the sleeping boy, which lasted for maybe two hours before the toddler rousted himself. It was his cough followed by a subtle whimper that pulled Amanda’s focus to the little boy.
Seeing his tousled light sandy brown hair now sitting upright, free from grime and dirt, Amanda pushed her laptop away and looked down into the box. The boy reached up and rubbed his eyes with his tiny fists and yawned. Those soft brown eyes, now free of sleepers, gazed up at Amanda.
Perhaps it was because she was hyper focused on the little boy’s eyes, but Amanda thought she glimpsed confusion, sadness, and the slightest apprehension as he met her gaze.
“Hey there. Good morning,” said Amanda sweetly, keeping her voice down as she lowered her hand into the cardboard shoe box. “Did you sleep so good?”
The little boy surveyed his surroundings, whimpering and huffing as if he were about to start crying, before taking two deep breaths and looking up at Amanda and, for the first time, acknowledged her questions with a nod.
Her jaw dropped. It wasn’t just her imagination. She saw him nod. It was a conscious effort, which only fascinated her more about the thumb sized boy. His little eyes stayed focused on Amanda as she processed what she just witnessed. Then, realizing she was gawking, shook herself from her spiraling thoughts and smiled at the little boy.
“Yeah? You slept good?” she repeated, as if stuck in a loop. The little boy nodded again after stifling yet another yawn.
So, it wasn’t a fluke.
” Good! That’s so good. You’re so good,” encouraged Amanda. The boy glanced around and squirmed uncomfortably as he tugged at his waist. Amanda, not sure what he was doing, went through a quick mental checklist of what this gesture could mean and quickly realized what he was silently asking for. After all, grabbing by his hips and private areas could only really mean one thing.
“Do you need to go potty?” She asked, still painfully aware of the size difference between her and the hand sized boy. With a little nod, the boy expressed his need.
Amanda was mostly at a loss of how to help the little boy, but decided taking him to the bathroom would be best and, thankfully, the experience went off without a hitch. Evidently, the boy had been trained which, for Amanda, confirmed her suspicion that the minuscule boy was between three and five years old.
After washing up, which the little boy didn’t quite understand, she brought him to the kitchen and started making a very simple breakfast. He listened timidly to her instincts as he sat by the backsplash with his legs crossed in a little pretzel. Her mind was in a tizzy about what to give him but settled on toast and jam and then a little bit of apple slice for some fruit.
“Take little bites, okay?” Instructed Amanda as she pinched off just a little piece of toast for the boy, who nodded and began to eat.
The more Amanda thought about the boy and watched his movement, the more like a very small human child he seemed to become. He was too real to be some stress dream or hallucination.
Still, how could someone so small exist?
One thing was for certain – he needed to be looked after, and while Amanda wasn’t sure if she was ready to rise to the occasion, she was ready to try.
First things first was to get him checked out, and Amanda had just the person for the job. One of her friends from college was a pediatrician, meaning she would know more about what the little boy needed in order to get back to full health. Phone in hand, she debated only for a moment with herself about how her friend would react to seeing a boy no bigger than her index finger. It was the little boy’s soft cough that reinforced her resolve. Amanda sifted through her contacts, muttering how tech was so inconvenient nowadays, before clicking on the familiar name of her friend – Melissa Hargrove.
Amanda listened to the dial tone and, as luck would have it, Melissa picked up.
Must be on break to answer my call right off the bat. She never bothers with her phone when working. Amanda thought as her friend cleared her throat, as she always did, before answering.
“Hey there Mandy! Long time no call. How’ve you been girlfriend?” Amanda wasn’t quite sure how to answer that question. So many memories and emotions were up in the air mere days ago. All of those wicked words only made her heart twist. Thoughts beginning to overwhelm her, Amanda took a breath and glanced over at the minuscule boy whose soft brown eyes were on her, watching intently.
“Mandy?”
Choked up and focusing on the little boy’s eyes, Amanda nodded and forced out the words.
“Yeah, not the best. I… um…” she cleared her throat and wiped away some of the stinging salty tears from her eyes before summoning more words. “It’s been a while since I updated you. I… could you come over after work? I have a lot to catch you up on and… well… I’ve got a bit of a situation.”
“Situation? What? Are you pregnant?” asked Melissa.
“Mel? Please? It’s just simpler if you come over. I’ll text you the address, and bring your little t-go med kit if you can,” said Amanda.
“Wait, address? Not the old place? Mandy, what happened? You and Brandyn having trouble? And did you say med kit? I swear if this fool laid hands on you…”
“It’s not that. Mel, just…” Amanda interrupted, sighing with the weight of the world obviously entwined in her breath. At this, Melissa seemed to withdraw.
“Okay, but I’d better get a full explanation when I get there. I get off at five thirty. How long will this… you know what? Never mind. I’m rain checking it. I’ll be over pronto. Chat soon! Bye!” said Mel as she abruptly hung up. Amanda knew her friend would be on her way, though guilt did build in the back of her mind at the thought of Mel canceling her plans.
Why did this always happen? Why was she always inconveniencing others?
Amanda’s insides swirled with nausea, and she leaned heavily against the counter. Eyes closed, she took deep, choked breaths as the flood gates threatened to burst from emotional strain. Just as she felt herself spiraling, she felt something against her finger. It was an odd tapping followed by a brushing sensation.
Amanda opened her eyes and instantly felt her anxious emotions melt away as she saw the little boy standing by her hand. His infinitesimal hand was on hers, petting and stroking her finger as if to make her feel better. The concern in his altruistic brown gaze held the wisdom and empathy of someone much older than him. He continued repeating the motion until he paused just long enough to smile up at Amanda.
Biting her lip and awed at this tiny life offering her comfort, she returned the smile and let her tears fade.
“Thank you, sweetie. You’re so kind,” mumbled Amanda as she reached her other hand over and carefully inched it toward the little boy until she could rub his back with the tip of her finger. For a moment, he almost looked like he was going to shy away from her approaching finger, but he held his ground and even leaned into the touch. The little boy smiled bashfully before repeating his little patting and stroking motion.
When Amanda felt the tightness in her chest dissipating, she turned over her palm and offered it to the little boy.
“Want to go play?” she asked. The minuscule features furrowed in confusion.
Did he not know what playing was? Did he not know any games?
As Amanda wondered this, the little boy reached up and rubbed his eyes with the palm of his hand as Amanda saw him give the biggest yawn he was capable of. It was probably the cutest thing she had ever seen in her life. She stifled a round of coos and rubbed his little back instead.
“That’s okay,” said Amanda. “We can snuggle instead. How about it? Want to sleep a little more?”
The boy nodded groggily and, after a hesitant moment, pulled himself onto Amanda’s hand and curled up by her fingers. Evidently, he still needed sleep and eating a little something had exhausted him. At least this was what Amanda hoped was going on.
She lifted the boy up and carried him back to her room where she informed her boss she needed to take a half-day due to a doctor’s appointment she forgot about and curled back into bed, laying the boy on her chest as she stayed propped up. Fingers resting over him to keep him from rolling off, Amanda watched as he curled up once more and fell back asleep. Hopefully, Mel would have some answers about this little guy. Amanda decided, until then, that resting her eyes with the boy wouldn’t be a bad idea.
The prompt of the day is Thief and honestly, that's suitable enough to do a follow up to an earlier prompt. So we're back with Borrower Chase, taking place directly after the end of Orange You Glad
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Borrower Chase and Minnie Masterpost
~~~
Things weren’t great.
Chase was stuck in a red plastic mesh bag with a bunch of oranges that outweighed him. The opening that he’d worked so hard to make was several inches away, obscured by some of said oranges. He didn’t have his bag, or any kinds of tools to cut through the plastic. Normally, these were surmountable problems, given enough time and energy.
If there wasn’t a human standing in the kitchen doorway, focus inevitably drawn to Chase’s movement in the bag, Chase would be fine. Instead, he sat and stared up at the young man and inwardly kicked himself with a litany of self-flagellating curses.
I’m an idiot I’m an idiot I’m a stupid goddamn idiot dumbass‒
His thoughts ground to a halt when the human finally moved, one large hand lifting from his side to rub at his eyes. If Chase had anywhere at all to hide, he would have taken the opportunity to duck out of sight. Instead, he awkwardly started to crawl towards the opening of the bag, shouldering against one of the fallen oranges. It moved a bit, only to bump up against more of them and generally be a nuisance and an obstacle. One of them had fallen right into the opening he’d left, but if he could just get past that he’d … be out on the counter and still very much in trouble.
Not that he had a chance. The human finished his attempt to brush the hallucination away. Seeing that Chase had moved, he took a step into the room. “Hey!”
He didn’t shout. He didn’t really need to. His voice was deep, powerful, easily louder than any sound Chase could manage. He stood over six feet tall for sure, built broad like he had a cliff somewhere in his ancestry. Chase froze as a large shadow crept over the counter and engulfed the produce bag.
Chase shuddered in spite of his usual attempts to stay optimistic. There was not much he could say about this one; after a series of close calls, he’d run out of luck. He was a thief, caught in the act.
He looked up, some kind of excuse on his lips. But though he opened his mouth to try to talk himself out of his predicament, only a faint squeak came out. The guy was just ridiculously, unfairly big even for a human. Even if Chase was at an equal scale, he’d be more than a head shorter than this guy.
A hand appeared in Chase’s periphery. He’d seen these hands plenty of times, once or twice coming dangerously close to his hiding place. Even the smallest finger outclassed him. Chase hadn’t worried about the human’s hands so much before; before, the guy didn’t know he was there.
Now, the human wouldn’t take his eyes off where Chase was trapped while he reached for the bag, and Chase couldn’t take his eyes off that hand. When it reached the opening of the bag, he drew in a rattling gasp and balked away. The hand didn’t dive into the bag after him, instead brushing at the edge of the mesh where Chase had worked it open over the course of what must have been an hour.
“Huh. You really almost got away with one of these, didn’t ya,” the guy muttered. He nudged at one of the oranges, the one Chase probably would have rolled into the walls if he’d had just ten more minutes to work with the stupid bag of produce. Now it was just another barrier between Chase and freedom.
Looking back up at the guy, Chase debated on whether he should answer. The smart answer was no, absolutely not. He should not let on that the guy could potentially coax answers out of him. At the same time, there were a thousand and one cheeky responses he could offer to that expectant look.
He landed somewhere in between both options, holding both hands up in an exasperated shrug. He sure did almost get away with one of the stupid oranges. And now that he had failed that, his fate was in a human’s hands.
As if the thought had prompted it, the human tried to reach into the opening of the bag. Chase choked on a noise of surprise to see those huge fingers pushing aside fruit in an aim to get to him. As he scrambled away from the opening, the hand just kept coming. It didn’t exactly fit in the opening, but the mesh simply crumpled before it, shrinking Chase’s available space as it did.
Eventually, he found himself pressed against a pile of giant oranges, his heels uselessly digging into the countertop, when that enormous hand reached him. It was an awkward squeeze for the human, but it didn’t stop him. Giant fingers and a thumb flanked Chase on either side and he thought his heart would come bursting right out of his chest. He slapped at the huge palm before him, panicked moments that probably felt like barely more than a flutter of movement. A couple fingers managed to snake behind him, dragging him forward.
He switched his strategy, grabbing at the mesh as it passed him by. His grip was nothing compared to the inexorable push of a giant hand, and though he wasn’t being moved quickly he found the mesh ripped from his grasp as he moved.
He was almost at the opening. Then there was nothing at all between him and the ridiculously giant man he and his sister had been basically stealing from since he moved into the apartment. Chase’s nerves ran wild and his heart pounded.
As soon as he was out in the open, he lost his nerve at last. “Okay okay okay! You got me! Good job, man!”
The hand, only partially wrapped around him, stopped without lifting him off the counter. The human looked shocked. “Dude … what?”
“Yeah, y-yeah,” Chase said, shifting subtly where he half-lay against a couple giant fingertips. “I’m a real hooligan, a rascal, I’ve heard said. I was definitely planning to steal one of these oranges. But y’see, I didn’t, so what if we just forget this ever happened and move on with our lives!”
Rather than give the man time to ponder his rambled words, Chase sprang into action. He and Minnie had grown up often having to sprint for cover, having to leap over and around strange obstacles.
Chase took advantage of the human’s momentary bewilderment. The hand had yet to close fully around him. Once he slipped down an inch and rolled away from it, it missed its chance. He hit the counter sprinting.
He could cover a decent amount of ground in a few seconds. Chase was proud of the work he and Minnie had done to build up their stamina for runs like this. Granted, they’d never practiced with a human actively trying to catch them, but if Chase could pull this off, they wouldn’t need a repeat. He’d take notes and they’d never revisit them if he had his way.
The human blurted something in surprise, startled by his sudden scurry. His other hand loomed in close. Chase dove forward in time with his heart doing a flip, rolling with the impact while the side of a hand barely brushed the back of his shirt.
“Oh, that was SO cool,” he shouted as he righted himself and pushed to his feet. He was definitely going to have to brag about that one‒
Three steps later, something yanked at the back of his jacket. “Oh sh‒” was all he managed to say before he was hauled off his feet and all his forward momentum came to a stop. He kicked his legs and tried to twist free of the sturdy canvas jacket, but a broad palm appeared beneath him and he stopped; he did not want to fall into that grasp.
The human only held him a few inches off the countertop, but both of them paused then, Chase breathing heavily and staring up at the man with a mix of fear and disappointment and the man staring back with open astonishment.
“What,” the human said, pausing to take a slow breath and shake his head, “the hell.”
POV - you're Iggy, a 24 foot all junk giant who has befriended a 6 inch tall borrower teen named Ozzy. You lost your earpiece, so you're trying to communicate with Ozzy while you search for it in the best way you know how. Ozzy is trying to be patient, but they're not a fan of being held up like this.
Iggy and Ozzy (c) Kelly Seitz, from the story Stowaway
