Like Words || Ramshackle

I : [Prologue] Healing and Hurtful Words

REMINDERS

(Everything will be revised & polished!)

> Strictly do not copy my work without any source of permission/consent.
> The whole fanfiction is written in Stone's P.O.V.
> Slight violence will be mentioned.
> Please be mindful.
> No smut.

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...

Words,

you learn from them. You develop from them. There are two types of words; healing and hurtful.

Healing words are discolored ink that weeps onto cream tablecloth. A story behind a messy view is more interesting than a perfect blank. Each droplet of healing words leaves change on the empty cloth—blessing it with intricate art.

It amazes me with their power to persuade—how they can easily flow out from one's mouth and leave a pang of ineradicable impact. Nevertheless, they can be perceived as quiet as the early mornings of August doves.

These words will make you lost in reverie.

Ramshackle isn't mystique. Despite the chaotic war-needles, I can only manage if I have both of them by my side. Vinnie and Skipp are healing words.

Aside from healing, we have the abrasive sting of hurtful words. They, unlike healing, are a carafe of venom that pours through the pores of your skin by the person you love, like your own blood. I'm not fond of my blood.

These words, I used to hear them everywhere. They bludgeoned me, no matter how hard I scraped off the grime that's ingrained, how harsh they complained about the rubber taste of water the expensive glass accommodated, I am the one who's mistaken. They were the shouts of my old neighbor, the shatters of fragile flasks, and the scribbles on essay drafts.

Dear words, everything is a pain because of your existence. Some of you spark with elegance and some of you leave us dimwit. Nevertheless, a combination of pretty and stupid is stupidly pretty.

...

It was noon when I woke up. My eyes were burning and my whole body was aching. My throat was as dry as desert sand.

"Stone, Gooooood morning." Vinnie's annoying greeting blended with the rustling whispers of wind. "Woah, you look like shit. Nice work!"

I could see she's carrying... stolen beans and a sack piled with coins. "Where's Skipp?"

"Uh, I tagged him along earlier to get these goodies, but I don't know where he is right now." she said, leaning against the brick with a stupid smirk. A smirk that feels like the gist of home.

"Are you sure he isn't dead?"

She scoffed, letting out a dramatic gasp. "A true scrap never leaves a friend behind just like that!" While she was making sure her bandana stayed on her head, I pulled it away to loosen it. "Ass!"

"Hey guys!" The boy full of giddiness greeted askew, halting Vinnie's threat to strangle me. His covered palm embraced sticks, stones, and...papers. Old papers. It's funny to think that Skipp's the oldest, yet the shortest.

"Stone!" Skipp moved towards me. "Did all that drinking and smoking cause you to have this awful hangover, huh?" He placed all the stuff he collected in his silly quest on a corner. He was far from wrong, though. I did drink a shitload last night.

Rabid girl rolled her eyes, "He literally got a whole collection of empty bottles."

"And It's even creating a... pyramid-like structure." He fixed his gaze to my crafted alcohol bottle pyramid. It's basically just my empty bottles shaped in a pyramid. "That's cool..." He took one of my bottles and spun it around like he was in a stupid fight scene, which made the other laugh.

"Whatever you say. Still looks amazing." Skipp ruffled my hair, then both of them proceeded to mind their own businesses. Hooray, what a way to start a usual leaden day. I slump down to the cold ground to sigh.

Perhaps with an unfolded odyssey of fresh-baked crime, I expect this day to be just like the day before. And the day before. Even so, a week before.

I've been a part of their 'gang' for more than a year, lining up like the quatrains of a Shakespearean sonnet. I made myself a scrap. My life's worth is better here. Belongingness was what I felt. Although we're just things the society doesn't hand a wisp of care about, I feel content.

Today's not gonna be that special, for every day is special with them. Just once more a gloomy day in typical old Ramshackle. Every day is greeted by a bittersweet hangover.

...

-end of chapter-