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Bunny Tales	By : ChrisCross Category: +S through Z > WW: World of Darkness Views: 1626 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own White Wolf's World of Darkness or Changeling:The Lost, I make no money from this. I also do not own some of the supporting cast, If you want me to take yours out, let me know. The only borrowed OC's are from ppl I know.

Chapter List
- 1-Frying pan to Fire, Nothing is Free
- 2-Textural Changes and New Discoveries
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- 2
I was running. Like always, I was running from him. The jackass just couldn’t be content with poisoning my mom, he thought I ought to be grateful he kept her in the crap, and that grateful meant ‘willing to do icky stuff with a guy who had gold teeth put in on my mom’s dime, then let them get all black and crusty’. Through alleyways and behind the restaurants’ loading docks, around dumpsters and over bums, I ran. He was getting closer, if the yelling was an indicator. I hit a dead end, ending in a chain link fence separating me from a junkyard. If I got on the other side, I could lose him in the trash. There are tons of places I could fit where he couldn’t in junkyards. And I can deal with the dogs. I like dogs, and they like me. There was a slit in the chain link fence, I put it in a few weeks ago with some wire cutters I borrowed from the shop classroom. Small one, but big enough I think, I had to get the snips back before they were missed and it was lunch hour, so I didn’t have time to test it. I’ve always been small for my age, and I had to make it small enough that an adult couldn’t use it too. I squeezed in, but the wires caught on my hips, and I was stuck. Stupid puberty, it went and changed me. I was stuck halfway to freedom, at least, freedom for the day.
I cried out then, yelling for help, for anybody to help me. Then HE shows up. He’s tall, maybe I should have noticed He was too tall, but have you ever looked at a standing person while laying on the ground belly down? From that angle, middle school kids look too tall. He also smelled wrong to be in a junkyard in New York City, but back then, I didn’t use my nose much. He asked if I wanted help. He sounded funny, kinda like maybe English wasn’t his favorite language. I thought ‘Hey, he’s foreign, that explains it, why he looks off, and why he’s dressed weird, and we really aren’t that far from the UN.’ Boy was I right about the foreign part, I was so damn right, I was wrong. You’ll see what I mean soon. Anyway, having decided he was safe, or at least safer than being stuck, I say yes, please, I’ll do anything, just help me through the fence. He pulled on my arms first. I felt the bones stretching as He pulled me. It hurt, I felt the sharp wires tear my pants and my legs. I felt pulled out long, like silly putty, but stiffer. I was most of the way through, but my ankles were caught. I tried to kick free but He says not to. Says it’ll hurt more. I was kinda freaking out then, and I ignored him. He didn’t like that one bit. He shifted his grip to my hair, and I thought for a moment that patches of scalp would come off. I heard, rather than felt, my shoes come off. I was finally free, I thought, but now I know I was the least free I had ever been. I sat back on my knees, kneeling. I was crying so bad I almost didn’t figure it out, but eventually even the worst panic goes away long enough for the truth to hit. What was the truth? That there was no junkyard, nothing I saw through the fence is there, except Him. Just Him, and lots of trees. For a second or two I thought, hoped, I had gotten to Central Park somehow, but I knew that wasn’t true. It didn’t smell like Central Park. I was using my nose by then. Central Park smells like plants, too, but you can always smell hot dog carts and hobos and horse crap, you know, civilization smells. This place I found myself in smelled like bad things. Like how what’s-his-face smelled before he does the bad, icky thing. Like how Danny Richards who got held back a grade smelled all those times he ‘forgot’ and walked into the girls locker room, like a dog after a bitch in heat. Sex, I realize, it smells like sex. And blood, and fear, I don’t know how I knew back then what fear smelled like, I hadn’t ever thought about it other than that dogs can smell fear, so it had to smell like something. In that moment I learned what fear smells like. It smells sharp, like black pepper, and sour like bad milk. I already knew what blood smells like, you can’t grow up in my part of the city and not know that. But I had never smelled all three at once and as strong as they were then. That combination smells like all that was ever wrong with people, like sin and evil should smell.
I stood up and turned around, to go back. What’s-his-face is better than this place. But the fence was gone. Like the junkyard, maybe it never was real. I turned to face HIM, but I fell on my ass. I glanced down, hoping I hadn’t hamstrung myself on the maybe-real fence and see that the reason is my legs, but not the damage to them. I expected them to be ripped up, bleeding, my jeans in tatters. But they weren’t. They were exactly as they are now. I know, you just see normal legs, but that’s not real. People see that instead of what’s real. I’m not sure how that works, but I have a horrid time now walking so the fake image syncs up with my movement. Since you can’t see them I’ll just tell you; they’re long and furry and I have big rabbit feet. It’s the weird stuff that hits you in moments that surreal, I remember my butt felt funny, like I was sitting on something. I reached around back to move it so I can sit right, and I find a round puff of a bunny tail. It was mine I knew, I could wiggle it. That’s what made it real. The damn cotton ball growing out my ass made the whole sick thing real. I’m shaking with fear by this point. You can’t smell fear that strong without it hitting you too. Something wide and floppy slid in front of my face. It was my ear, one of my two big floppy bunny ears that come out of the places I felt my scalp rip. I realized my face was itching, and I touched my mouth just in time to be touching it as the slit forms in my upper lip and my incisors get bigger. I stared at my hands for a long time, waiting for them to become paws. They didn’t. I was stuck half way again, and I always will be.
I was thinking out loud now, about how I had just wanted to run, to run away from my junkie mom’s asshole boyfriend/dealer, I had thought of him as “him” or “what’s-his-face”, it helped make him not human in my head, which made the stuff he did seem less awful, but just then I desperately wanted to remember his name, to remember the last human I saw, even if he wasn’t much of a human being. I couldn’t. I couldn’t remember my mom’s name, I couldn’t remember my own name. I was really gibbering like a lunatic by then. “I just wanted to run, run from him, run away, run far run fast, run run runrunrun.” HE came over and crouched down next to me, and touched my shoulder. For a moment I honestly thought He’ll say He’s sorry, that it will all be ok soon, that it was for the better, that it wasn’t my fault. All the things that aren’t true, but people are supposed to say anyway when horrible things happen to you. I realized too late that He isn’t a ‘people’. He isn’t the exact opposite of a “people”, but only because he isn’t even on the same scale of peoplehood. I’d have said HE was an IT, but He was most definitely male, a male whatever-the-hell-He-was. He whispered “Run, Rabbit, Run.” and stepped back. I didn’t get it. My thoughts went somewhere along the lines of; What is He talking about? I can barely stand up, I can’t run, He can’t expect ... but He did. When I didn’t run, he came at me with a flashing blade that’s an odd shape. I get deep cuts on my arms where he slashes as I try to defend myself. It is amazing what you can do with enough adrenalin, I couldn’t walk, and yet, I ran. I Ran, I RAN I RAN I RAN I RAN.
Faster, and faster I run. Farther than I ever thought I could run, even on my best days, let alone at a time when coordinating my legs enough to stand up was hard. I tripped over my feet alot, I hadn’t got used to them yet. I kept getting up and running more. Branches lashed my arms as I pushed them aside. Soon, I’m not bothering with pulling them or pushing them, just putting my hands over my head and using my elbows and forearms as a shield. I thought I might be pulling ahead, when I smell HIM, like sex and blood and wet dirt, all the fear smell was coming from me. He grabbed me and for a second, as I sensed the strength in Him, I think He’ll crush my ribs and snap my neck, but He pushes me on the ground instead, and I wish then He had killed me, because I knew what came next. I knew to try to relax, it hurts less that way. You need to shut out what happens and think of other things. It’s hard the first few times, but then you start prewriting your history essay for Mrs. Bambini's class, and wondering if there are any cherry pop-tarts left in the cabinet, or if it’s all the yucky blueberry kind. But with Him, I can’t shut it out, because I know there will never be a chance to turn in that homework, and that there will never be anymore pop-tarts, cherry or otherwise, ever again. And I was fairly certain this was not the last time. I was right.
I should have known nothing comes without a price, and I sold my freedom for way too little in return. I should be more careful promising things.
When HE was done, He left, in that at least, he’s typical. I cried for a long time then, but I don’t know how long. I licked my cuts, just because it seemed like what I should do, and I curled up in a ball and cried myself to sleep. When I awoke, I had no cuts or bruises, and I was back in the same clearing I started in. This time, I was up and ready before he appeared, but I couldn’t leave, when I tried my legs locked up. When He showed up, he said, “Run, Rabbit, Run.” I don’t need to be told twice.
It was the same all the time. Days had no meaning there, it’s always that funky twilight of the forest in that strange, not-right place, and I never needed to eat or crap, and I only slept after each run. Run, Catch, Rape, Cry, Sleep, Wake, Repeat. Like a fucked up reverse shampoo for the soul. I got dirtier and dirtier in my heart with each repeat. I fostered anger and grew it in the empty spot hope used to live, before my new life evicted it. I needed the anger, because anger uses up a lot of mental space, and the more anger I held, the less room I had for fear. It was my new way of shutting the bad stuff out. I could relax my body while my mind invented ways of beating the ever loving crap out of my Keeper, even if I knew I couldn’t fight him, the power he had wouldn’t let me. I cannot relax anything while focusing on my fear, and as I said earlier, relaxing keeps it from hurting quite as bad. Physically at least.
Five years of that. I think. Once in what I call a year, HE read me a stupid bit of rhyme,
The days are Long
The quarry Strong
Hunter Rides
As rabbit FLYS
Those times, which I think might be an annual summer thing, the first day, or the longest day, or something, I couldn’t ever leave the spot I wake in until the poem is over, and he has told me that I’m to be Tested, and If I win the Test, he will take me to the Huntsman’s Chase. What the fuck did he think my life was like every day that a Huntsman’s Chase was supposed to sound special? Or desirable? I barely coped with one Huntsman chasing me, why the hell would I want to go to something with enough of them that the name was Huntsman’s Chase?
When I’m caught on these days, there is no rape, just a needle in the back, right above the fur, which is about where low rider jeans come to, and a cold numbness spreading out of my spine from there. It was an awful lot like the Novocain the dentist in the Free Health Clinic gave me before pulling an impacted molar. I couldn’t move after the shot, but I also couldn’t sleep, it was kept away in the same way I was kept from hurting the Keeper, and how I couldn’t run before he told me to. Once my body was totally numb, I was allowed sleep. I kept track of the number of times this happened by tearing open the skin on the back of my left hand and sealing a pebble in it as I sleep. Cuts were always gone when I wake, but things under the skin stay there.
The fifth time I was running and I saw a boulder. I couldn’t go around it without losing too much time, so I leapt on top. There was a tree near to it. I started to climb. When I couldn’t reach with my arms, I jumped. Soon I was at the top of the tree. The sun was cold. I had forgotten a lot, but I remembered the sun was supposed to be warm. I heard HIM coming up the tree, so I leapt. Call it a leap of Faith. I certainly had faith that the death of falling nearly 200 feet would be preferable to Him. But I didn’t fall to my death. I went up and up, soaring farther than I thought possible. When I landed, I was in a part of the forest I had never seen. There was a huge thorn hedge running as far as the eye could see.
HE appeared suddenly. “Well done. That will be where the Huntsman’s Chase will be. You are quite lucky to be the winner. The quarry of the Huntsman’s Chase is given the honor of being the blood sacrifice at our Autumn Festival.” Then He was gone in His typical burst of hot, rancid air. I fell down and passed out as the last wave of heat shimmer disappeared.
When I woke up, I was in this huge meadow. There were trees to one side, but not a true forest. It was just about 20 feet of woods, and then the thorn hedge. There were OTHERS gathering on the opposite side of the meadow. Others like Him. Some of Them had dogs, or dog-people, like I’m a rabbit-person. Some rode horses, or horse-people, but the horse-people were few. I wanted to run for the trees, but I couldn’t. I could, and did, set for it though.
When the horn sounded, I was off. I headed straight to the back. Right towards the thorns. I remembered then my old neighbor Missus Freeman telling the kids in our apartment building the stories of Brer Rabbit. I was thinking crazy, I guess, those thorns looked deadly as I got close to them, but I felt all funny from actually having remembered something from before, and I call out, “Please, don’t throw me in that there Briar Bush!” I’m in the Hedge then. I know that it’s a Hedge, not a hedge, now. It’s THE Hedge, the first and greatest, and all others are pale, badly done replications. The thorns actually reached for me, they thirsted for blood, my blood. I dodged them as I ran, but it’s hard to dodge moving things. I sensed the strange magic that held me to HIM rip on them though. I started to purposely run near the thorns to pull it off of me.
Off to the left, is a wider path, less thorns. To the right is a narrow little tunnel. I wanted to take the wide path, but I knew the ones of THEM with horses would need to take that path, and the ones on foot wouldn’t want to crawl to get me. All I’d need to handle on the tunnel was the dogs and dog-people. I didn’t know about the dog-people, but I did kinda remember being good with dogs once, it felt closer, like I may have thought about being good with dogs recently, but I discarded that thought. I took a chance on the tunnel. I lost time deciding though, and thinking about whether or not I was good with dogs. I could hear the Hunt approaching. I heard crashing and yelping as my canine followers caught the thorns too. Soon the path widened out just a little bit. A dog-person was running next to me, not after me, but next to me. She smiled at me and I knew she wasn’t going to hurt me or try to take me back. We ran together. I saw her rub the thorns like I did, tearing the slavery off her body.
We reached a fork in the path. I slowed down to listen, and so did she. We couldn’t hear the hunt anymore. I looked at her and started laughing with joy. She laughed too, a little yipping sound. When we stopped laughing, she sniffed the air at one side of the fork, and I listened at the other. She told me the right side leads to farmland, she could smell horses and cows and wheat. I say that the left side leads to a city, I hear cars and trucks and street vendors and jackhammers. She decides to take the left fork, easier to get lost in a city, she says. So many smells, it’s too hard to track there. I took the right side, I grew up in a city, and I knew all too well it’s no easier to run in cities. Running in the city was how I got there. Besides, I was afraid it’d be New York City. I had nothing out in the farm land of who-knows-where, but I had less than nothing in New York. We parted then, wished each other luck and went down our separate paths.
I came out of the Hedge in Kansas. In the part that looks like the first bit of The Wizard of Oz, only in color. I was pretty near a Highway, so I took that going to the right. I took right turns all the way out of the Hedge, so I guessed I’d stick with it. I didn’t know where to go, but Highways go places, and I needed a place to go. I thought “Maybe I can hitchhike part way to wherever I decide to go. Hitching in general is stupid, but I can defend myself now. I’ve got two natural beat-sticks on the ends of my legs. Big Bad Bunny feet with claws and everything. I’m sick of running. Someone wants to mess me up, I’ll just mess them up first. My old life, everything before now, the city, the forest, was running. I’m never gonna run for other people again.”
And so far, I haven’t. I know a lot more than I did before, and it’s just made me better at beating the bad guys to the punch. I know there are others like me, the changelings. I know we can do some pretty wicked shit. I know that they need more fighters, and I fit the bill. I’m the Killer Bunny, now. Not Rabbit, never Rabbit. He called me Rabbit. I’m Bunny. And I’m ready to fight.
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Bunny Tales