Fic- The Trilobite
Feb. 4th, 2022 03:36 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
cornerofmadnessI wrote something for spikesgirl58's 6 word challenge (the words being Strap, Tick, Pie, Tired, Cabinet, Fate)
here on AO3 or
Title: The Trilobite
author:cornerofmadness
Summary: Malcolm’s father introduces him to a treasure trove.
Rating: teen
Notes: written for Spikesgirl58’s 6 word challenge. The words to include were Strap, Tick, Pie, Tired, Cabinet &Fate
Malcolm followed his father through the gloomy rooms of one of his grandmother’s far flung estates. This one was nestled into the woods in Vermont and he doubted it had been changed one bit since it was first built because everything was old. Everything was something he and Ainsley Should. Not. Touch. Because it was old and valuable. He had nearly gotten himself in trouble laughing at how Dad rolled his eyes through Grandma Milton’s speech about acceptable behavior while in the mansion.
“You’re going to enjoy this,” Dad said, opening the door to the library. Malcolm loved books. He doubted Grandma had anything he’d actually want to read. It all seemed dry and dusty to his nine year old eyes.
“It’s not more quiet time is it?” He moaned. Even playing hide and seek outside with Ainsley seemed like a better proposition but after that time where she hid in the clock and he’d gotten yelled at because she had been ‘lost’ Malcolm was gun-shy.
His father laughed. “We’ll save that for when your grandmother is around. No, I thought you’d enjoy seeing this.” He escorted Malcolm to a display case sitting on a long low wooden dresser full of narrow shallow drawers. It took up most of the wall. “This is what they used to call a Cabinet of Curiosities. Back before TV, people had to make up their own entertainment. Museums weren’t a dime a dozen then either. If someone was wealthy enough, like your ancestors, they made their own museums in their house, their Cabinet of Curiosities. It showcased their interests, the things they collected. Someone obviously liked birds.”
Dad gestured to the display on the top of the cabinet. Behind the glass an effort had been made to give the appearance of woods and tree branches. Taxidermy birds sat on every branch. Malcolm studied them. Each had a little name plate with their scientific and common names. Shaded from the windows in this spot, their feathers still had vibrancy. Jewel toned blues and greens caught his eyes. Deep reds and buttery yellows, the birds were pretty and yet so sad. He’d rather see them alive and well in a zoo, not stuffed behind glass.
“Check out the drawers too. They’re full of hidden secrets,” his dad said going to sit in one of the leather chairs with a book to while away the time as Malcolm explored.
Malcolm pulled one open, widening his eyes in sheer delight finding an ammonite in one of the sectioned out drawers. “Fossils! May I touch them?”
“If you’re gentle. I won’t tell your grandmother.” Dad smiled.
Malcolm plucked the ammonite out and carried it to the window to let the light play over the crystals fossilized within its spiral. He returned it to study the imprint of a fossilized fern. The bit of amber with the insect in it went to the window as well so Malcolm to truly appreciate it. The tooth as long as his finger had him imagining the giant shark that probably possessed it. The black and white dagger-like gleaming stone containing an Orthoceras made him smile.
Malcolm held his breath when he picked up a trilobite from the drawer. He ran a finger over its 250 million year old ridged shell, picturing long-ago oceans. “Dad, do you think Grandma would let me keep this?” He ran over with the trilobite.
“We can always ask. Did you see the special exhibit yet?” His father pointed to a box at the end of the cabinet of curiosities, one Malcolm hadn’t noticed before.
He shook his head and his father stood up, setting his book aside.
“Let’s go look. I think you’ll like it.” He put a gentle hand in the small of Malcolm’s back guiding him back over to the cabinet.
“What’s in it?”
“Your fate.” Dad grinned.
From somewhere in the house, his mother’s voice interrupted them. “Martin! Malcolm! Where are you?”
“In the library, dear heart,” Dad called back.
“It’s tea time. Ainsley wants us all to join her. There’s pie,” Mom added as incentive.
“We’ll be there in a tick,” Dad replied and patted Malcolm’s shoulder. “Go ahead, open it, my boy.”
Malcolm pocketed the trilobite and greedily tore into the box. Inside was a pair of crossed scalpels in front of a decapitated woman’s head which rested next to Malcolm’s own face staring up at him. He shrieked.
And shrieked until he woke up, straining at the end of the straps that anchored him to his bed. He sagged exhausted from the nightmare. Regaining his breath, Malcolm tore off his leather cuffs and rolled out of bed, swampy with sweat. The image of his own face in the box – ala Luke Skywalker – haunted him all through a quick shower.
He trailed back into the living room dressed only in his boxer-briefs, not ready for this day. He took the cover off Sunshine’s cage and wandered over to the bookcase, more tired now than when he’d gone to bed. He picked up the trilobite he’d gotten that day from his great grandfather’s cabinet of curiosities. He’d taken it to Harvard and then to Quantico but even this treasured prize was tainted by the shadow of what his father had done. He lightly closed his fist around it, trying to remember the better days even as a silent tear slithered down his cheek.
spikesgirl58's 6 word challenge (the words being Strap, Tick, Pie, Tired, Cabinet, Fate)here on AO3 or
Title: The Trilobite
author:
cornerofmadnessSummary: Malcolm’s father introduces him to a treasure trove.
Rating: teen
Notes: written for Spikesgirl58’s 6 word challenge. The words to include were Strap, Tick, Pie, Tired, Cabinet &Fate
Malcolm followed his father through the gloomy rooms of one of his grandmother’s far flung estates. This one was nestled into the woods in Vermont and he doubted it had been changed one bit since it was first built because everything was old. Everything was something he and Ainsley Should. Not. Touch. Because it was old and valuable. He had nearly gotten himself in trouble laughing at how Dad rolled his eyes through Grandma Milton’s speech about acceptable behavior while in the mansion.
“You’re going to enjoy this,” Dad said, opening the door to the library. Malcolm loved books. He doubted Grandma had anything he’d actually want to read. It all seemed dry and dusty to his nine year old eyes.
“It’s not more quiet time is it?” He moaned. Even playing hide and seek outside with Ainsley seemed like a better proposition but after that time where she hid in the clock and he’d gotten yelled at because she had been ‘lost’ Malcolm was gun-shy.
His father laughed. “We’ll save that for when your grandmother is around. No, I thought you’d enjoy seeing this.” He escorted Malcolm to a display case sitting on a long low wooden dresser full of narrow shallow drawers. It took up most of the wall. “This is what they used to call a Cabinet of Curiosities. Back before TV, people had to make up their own entertainment. Museums weren’t a dime a dozen then either. If someone was wealthy enough, like your ancestors, they made their own museums in their house, their Cabinet of Curiosities. It showcased their interests, the things they collected. Someone obviously liked birds.”
Dad gestured to the display on the top of the cabinet. Behind the glass an effort had been made to give the appearance of woods and tree branches. Taxidermy birds sat on every branch. Malcolm studied them. Each had a little name plate with their scientific and common names. Shaded from the windows in this spot, their feathers still had vibrancy. Jewel toned blues and greens caught his eyes. Deep reds and buttery yellows, the birds were pretty and yet so sad. He’d rather see them alive and well in a zoo, not stuffed behind glass.
“Check out the drawers too. They’re full of hidden secrets,” his dad said going to sit in one of the leather chairs with a book to while away the time as Malcolm explored.
Malcolm pulled one open, widening his eyes in sheer delight finding an ammonite in one of the sectioned out drawers. “Fossils! May I touch them?”
“If you’re gentle. I won’t tell your grandmother.” Dad smiled.
Malcolm plucked the ammonite out and carried it to the window to let the light play over the crystals fossilized within its spiral. He returned it to study the imprint of a fossilized fern. The bit of amber with the insect in it went to the window as well so Malcolm to truly appreciate it. The tooth as long as his finger had him imagining the giant shark that probably possessed it. The black and white dagger-like gleaming stone containing an Orthoceras made him smile.
Malcolm held his breath when he picked up a trilobite from the drawer. He ran a finger over its 250 million year old ridged shell, picturing long-ago oceans. “Dad, do you think Grandma would let me keep this?” He ran over with the trilobite.
“We can always ask. Did you see the special exhibit yet?” His father pointed to a box at the end of the cabinet of curiosities, one Malcolm hadn’t noticed before.
He shook his head and his father stood up, setting his book aside.
“Let’s go look. I think you’ll like it.” He put a gentle hand in the small of Malcolm’s back guiding him back over to the cabinet.
“What’s in it?”
“Your fate.” Dad grinned.
From somewhere in the house, his mother’s voice interrupted them. “Martin! Malcolm! Where are you?”
“In the library, dear heart,” Dad called back.
“It’s tea time. Ainsley wants us all to join her. There’s pie,” Mom added as incentive.
“We’ll be there in a tick,” Dad replied and patted Malcolm’s shoulder. “Go ahead, open it, my boy.”
Malcolm pocketed the trilobite and greedily tore into the box. Inside was a pair of crossed scalpels in front of a decapitated woman’s head which rested next to Malcolm’s own face staring up at him. He shrieked.
And shrieked until he woke up, straining at the end of the straps that anchored him to his bed. He sagged exhausted from the nightmare. Regaining his breath, Malcolm tore off his leather cuffs and rolled out of bed, swampy with sweat. The image of his own face in the box – ala Luke Skywalker – haunted him all through a quick shower.
He trailed back into the living room dressed only in his boxer-briefs, not ready for this day. He took the cover off Sunshine’s cage and wandered over to the bookcase, more tired now than when he’d gone to bed. He picked up the trilobite he’d gotten that day from his great grandfather’s cabinet of curiosities. He’d taken it to Harvard and then to Quantico but even this treasured prize was tainted by the shadow of what his father had done. He lightly closed his fist around it, trying to remember the better days even as a silent tear slithered down his cheek.
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