Rudy and Rosie - Part I
In which a narrator tells the story of two earwigs finding their true places in the world. Part one. (not edited for spelling or anything yet so don't criticize!)
"Rudy, where's Rudy?" Rosyln asked groggily as she awoke from her sleep. She rubbed her eyes, rolled over onto her back and sat up and looked around. Habitually now Roslyn was asking for Rudy. He never failed at heightening Rosie's fear that someday Rudy wouldn't be around. There was a time when everything was good. No, better than good. Grand. Months ago when Rudy had stumbled into her life, Rosie felt simply euphoric. She would wake up in the morning with her companion at her side, and spend hours nonchalantly wasting the hours away talking, hunting down left overs, or finding shelter. There had been a Rudy, nay, the Rudy that had given Rosie a reason to live. He gave her the hopes she needed in believing that there was a life to live, even for a bug.
Without the emotional connection of her parents or her hundreds of siblings, Rosie wobbled around in rain and shine, in cold and heat in search of something. But what? What did an earwig have to live for? Before her eyes, she saw patches of green blades of grass, and brown clumps of dirt. There was no direction to turn to -- there was simply left or right. It was every man for himself, Darwinism to the fullest.
Rosie had seen many fellow contenders starve to death, or even, to every bugs greatest horrors, get stepped on stuffed in a clear jar as if they were an exhibit at a museum. In a worst case scenario, Rosie had even heard that some of her fellow comrades had been neglected food, shelter, water and worst of all, proper air holes. Every time a shrill voice sounded, or a concentric rhythm was felt pulsing through the ground, Rosie hid for shelter. Under rocks, underground, in the tiny crevises of sidewalks, wood structures and beneath trash cans and any other location she could scamper away to as long as she could fend for herself.
She found, over the perusing weeks, wherever there was shelter, there was a collection of fellow bugs, arms open, willing to let the estranged edition to the bug community into their safe haven... as long as there was no imminent danger. As soon as a child's laugh was heard, or the sound of scuffling feet filled their ears, the bug community turned savage against one another. Rocks were bound to be upturned, shovels pierced into the earth and uprooting many homes and soon enough, the creatures would be exposed to the children. The lucky ones were discovered by young girls. Those who wore bright, cheerful tones of pink, yellow and orange and whose voices were so high that it would be sure to pierce any wine glass.
When a bug was spotted, cries would escape the young girl's mouth and even an occasional tear was brought to her face. She would usually get up, squeamish and sick, and brush herself off, sending the poor bug flying off, able to set off and hide for cover. There were, however, the types of children who did like bugs, though. Boys and tomboys alike would pick up bugs and tortuously rip their little lets off, leaving them in such tithing and crippling pain that their life ended the second the child's eyes laid on them. The worst of the bug's fears were not children, however. They were adults. Not the types of adults who the young squeamish girls grew up to be, but rather the adults the fearless boys and girls would turn out to be. They were the types who would drown a spider in a bathtub, or jump on an ant who was let loose in the basement.
They say everything always happens for a reason. It is exactly this saying that ran through Rosie's head one July afternoon, just as the sun was blaringly hot.
The entire bug community was scampering around in search of some shelter, and some shade. Rosie had found ephemeral relief sitting below a patch of shade that had formed as the sun shifted positions on a tulip. Rosie sat, basking in the cool summer breeze, thinking how wonderful life truly is, even if one is alone. Her eyes were closed, and as soon as her eyelids were resting on each other, Rosie drifted off into a deep slumber. It wasn't until seconds, minutes, hours even, she couldn't measure, that Rosie was harshly shoved back into reality as the sound of little clittering feet ran across cement. She pulled her eyelids away from each other, and was unable to close them again for several seconds, as if the two eyelids were opposite magnets, unattracted to each other.
There, before her eyes, was a thousand bugs, each running towards her. Rosie quickly turned around and saw no other bugs but her. All of those bugs couldn't fit under the shade in which she was basking, surly, so there had to be some other interior motive for their coming. Rosie turned her head to face the crowd once more. There before her eyes, she saw him-- running at full speed, his antennas flying all about his head, his shell creating an ultrasonic boom with each step he took. The look on his face was fierce, determined. Throughout the crowd, Rosie could hear other bugs shouting something. But what? She strained her ears but still couldn't understand.
But the crowd was getting closer and closer, and the stampede was sounding louder and louder in her ears, and at no rate would she be able to hear what they were shouting now. She closed her eyes just for a moment before turning around to face against the crowd again. Her eyes moved from the asphalt ground, working their way up to the green wooden door to the cream colored siding. It was a house. A house with very nice flowers perfectly lined in their beds. The enormity of the house frightened Rosie a little bit at first, but then she realized what everybody was running to.
"What are you doing?" He called to her, his voice cutting through her ears like a knife. A sweet, sweet knife coated in delicacies and sweets. She didn't answer, just stared at him. "Come on!" He shouted. "This is our chance! The humans are gone, they've left! Ricky found a hole for us to enter through! Come on!" He shouted once more. She didn't know whether it was his enchanting voice, or the intimidation of a thousand other bugs running at her, but Rosie started to run like mad. When the other bugs caught up with her, she let them follow her, closely keeping track of the head bug's movements.
When they arrived at the house, the brick frame showed a passageway into the world of air conditioning and controllable lighting. One by one, in a not unorderly fashion, the bugs quickly filed into the house. Scurrilously, the bugs found cover from the overbearing heat from just a few moments ago under boxes, wooden planks and tools.
Rosie was one of the first to arrive in the new location. She stood on the oil spilled pavement and looked around. What kind of living was done in this room? she had wondered. The ground was not fit for a human. It was hard and cold, and it was crawling with insects. Despite her experience of living in an actual house, it did not take much schooling at the University of the Social Pyramid for Rosie to know that humans and bugs do not like to intermingle. But this room was like paradise to her. There were so many crevices, so many hiding places for her to find that she couldn't ever imagine leaving this place.
After a few moments of her admiration of the new location, Rosie had snapped herself out of her trance. Realizing where she was, she suddenly remember who it was that called her to tag along. Her savior, her helpline. Where was he? Rosie didn't know his name. She hardly could recall his image in her mind once more. The only memory she had of him was his enchanting vocals.
...annnnd... I'll finish it up SOON! let me know what you think of it plzz♥
Without the emotional connection of her parents or her hundreds of siblings, Rosie wobbled around in rain and shine, in cold and heat in search of something. But what? What did an earwig have to live for? Before her eyes, she saw patches of green blades of grass, and brown clumps of dirt. There was no direction to turn to -- there was simply left or right. It was every man for himself, Darwinism to the fullest.
Rosie had seen many fellow contenders starve to death, or even, to every bugs greatest horrors, get stepped on stuffed in a clear jar as if they were an exhibit at a museum. In a worst case scenario, Rosie had even heard that some of her fellow comrades had been neglected food, shelter, water and worst of all, proper air holes. Every time a shrill voice sounded, or a concentric rhythm was felt pulsing through the ground, Rosie hid for shelter. Under rocks, underground, in the tiny crevises of sidewalks, wood structures and beneath trash cans and any other location she could scamper away to as long as she could fend for herself.
She found, over the perusing weeks, wherever there was shelter, there was a collection of fellow bugs, arms open, willing to let the estranged edition to the bug community into their safe haven... as long as there was no imminent danger. As soon as a child's laugh was heard, or the sound of scuffling feet filled their ears, the bug community turned savage against one another. Rocks were bound to be upturned, shovels pierced into the earth and uprooting many homes and soon enough, the creatures would be exposed to the children. The lucky ones were discovered by young girls. Those who wore bright, cheerful tones of pink, yellow and orange and whose voices were so high that it would be sure to pierce any wine glass.
When a bug was spotted, cries would escape the young girl's mouth and even an occasional tear was brought to her face. She would usually get up, squeamish and sick, and brush herself off, sending the poor bug flying off, able to set off and hide for cover. There were, however, the types of children who did like bugs, though. Boys and tomboys alike would pick up bugs and tortuously rip their little lets off, leaving them in such tithing and crippling pain that their life ended the second the child's eyes laid on them. The worst of the bug's fears were not children, however. They were adults. Not the types of adults who the young squeamish girls grew up to be, but rather the adults the fearless boys and girls would turn out to be. They were the types who would drown a spider in a bathtub, or jump on an ant who was let loose in the basement.
They say everything always happens for a reason. It is exactly this saying that ran through Rosie's head one July afternoon, just as the sun was blaringly hot.
The entire bug community was scampering around in search of some shelter, and some shade. Rosie had found ephemeral relief sitting below a patch of shade that had formed as the sun shifted positions on a tulip. Rosie sat, basking in the cool summer breeze, thinking how wonderful life truly is, even if one is alone. Her eyes were closed, and as soon as her eyelids were resting on each other, Rosie drifted off into a deep slumber. It wasn't until seconds, minutes, hours even, she couldn't measure, that Rosie was harshly shoved back into reality as the sound of little clittering feet ran across cement. She pulled her eyelids away from each other, and was unable to close them again for several seconds, as if the two eyelids were opposite magnets, unattracted to each other.
There, before her eyes, was a thousand bugs, each running towards her. Rosie quickly turned around and saw no other bugs but her. All of those bugs couldn't fit under the shade in which she was basking, surly, so there had to be some other interior motive for their coming. Rosie turned her head to face the crowd once more. There before her eyes, she saw him-- running at full speed, his antennas flying all about his head, his shell creating an ultrasonic boom with each step he took. The look on his face was fierce, determined. Throughout the crowd, Rosie could hear other bugs shouting something. But what? She strained her ears but still couldn't understand.
But the crowd was getting closer and closer, and the stampede was sounding louder and louder in her ears, and at no rate would she be able to hear what they were shouting now. She closed her eyes just for a moment before turning around to face against the crowd again. Her eyes moved from the asphalt ground, working their way up to the green wooden door to the cream colored siding. It was a house. A house with very nice flowers perfectly lined in their beds. The enormity of the house frightened Rosie a little bit at first, but then she realized what everybody was running to.
"What are you doing?" He called to her, his voice cutting through her ears like a knife. A sweet, sweet knife coated in delicacies and sweets. She didn't answer, just stared at him. "Come on!" He shouted. "This is our chance! The humans are gone, they've left! Ricky found a hole for us to enter through! Come on!" He shouted once more. She didn't know whether it was his enchanting voice, or the intimidation of a thousand other bugs running at her, but Rosie started to run like mad. When the other bugs caught up with her, she let them follow her, closely keeping track of the head bug's movements.
When they arrived at the house, the brick frame showed a passageway into the world of air conditioning and controllable lighting. One by one, in a not unorderly fashion, the bugs quickly filed into the house. Scurrilously, the bugs found cover from the overbearing heat from just a few moments ago under boxes, wooden planks and tools.
Rosie was one of the first to arrive in the new location. She stood on the oil spilled pavement and looked around. What kind of living was done in this room? she had wondered. The ground was not fit for a human. It was hard and cold, and it was crawling with insects. Despite her experience of living in an actual house, it did not take much schooling at the University of the Social Pyramid for Rosie to know that humans and bugs do not like to intermingle. But this room was like paradise to her. There were so many crevices, so many hiding places for her to find that she couldn't ever imagine leaving this place.
After a few moments of her admiration of the new location, Rosie had snapped herself out of her trance. Realizing where she was, she suddenly remember who it was that called her to tag along. Her savior, her helpline. Where was he? Rosie didn't know his name. She hardly could recall his image in her mind once more. The only memory she had of him was his enchanting vocals.
...annnnd... I'll finish it up SOON! let me know what you think of it plzz♥
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