Ned (baker_of_pies) wrote in carnaval_logs, @ 2013-10-03 19:50:00 |
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Ned was up early as makers of pies tended to be. He was thinking this morning about the dead girl called Chuck and the fact that she had forgiven him about her father. At least, as much as she could forgive him about her father. She could hate what he had done. He hated what he had done. But she could not hate him. Did not. And that made him very happy indeed. He would not have coped if she'd hated him forever, even if she'd had every right to do just that. The pie maker peered over at her now, a small smile playing across his features. She was on the other side of the kitchen of his pie shop - the Pie Hole. He was rolling out some dough. She was cutting up an apple. They'd been through a lot recently and the fact that they were both here rolling out dough and cutting up apples was a cause for joy. Or so Ned thought. Once he'd finished rolling out the dough, Ned looked back over to Chuck. They caught each other this time and the pie maker couldn't help but smile. Not that he wouldn't have anyway. "I'll get you some more apples," he announced. Although she already had more. It was just an excuse to get close-but-not-too-close to her. As that thought settled in, Ned absently tucked the rolling pin into his apron before heading towards the back room. Apples. As Ned pulled open the door to the storeroom it ceased being a door. The kitchen ceased being a kitchen. And the Pie Hole. Well, this definitely wasn't the Pie Hole. His first instinct was to panic and so he started to do so. Internally, at first, because he was feeling rather paralysed. It soon spread to his face, however, as an expression of wide-eyed terror settled in. His hand that had been holding the door but was now holding nothing fell uselessly to his side. There were no apples. No fruit. Just trailers and tents. Ned tried to stop his panic. Aside from the fact that he was a man who could wake the dead with a touch, this sort of thing was just not possible. People didn't just open doors to other ..places. Or other places didn't just flood in when you opened doors. No, this had to be a dream. He allowed himself to look around a little, but he didn't take in much more than the tents and the trailers he already had. The more he thought about it though, the more he thought that you didn't really think about dreams being dreams when they were dreams. So maybe this wasn't a dream? In which case, what was it? Had he been drugged? "Have I been drugged?" he repeated, to no one in particular. Maybe if he turned around the rest of the kitchen would somehow still be there. Ned took a deep breath, attempted to swallow down his perpetually rising panic, and managed to take one step, then another. Turning around didn't help though. There was definitely no kitchen, no Pie Hole. No Chuck. The pie maker had to fight the urge to collapse in the dust. Sitting down was a very appealing idea right now. But if a world had flooded in through his storeroom door, he had to find Chuck. "Chuck?" he called tentatively, his voice barely making it past the panic in his throat. "Chuck!" Ned called again, this time (thankfully) louder. There was no answer. "Chuck!" This time he took a step forward. Desperation had taken over from wide-eyed shock and Ned continued to push himself forward, hoping a familiar figure would make itself known. He clasped his hands carefully behind his back, which might seem odd to some for a man in such a desperate state. But if Chuck did appear, he couldn't risk touching her, no matter how much he'd like to. "CHUCK!" And for good measure, "OLIVE!" Where was he? |