"My creations..."- A Funtime Foxy Fanfic -

The new... old guy?

-Please don't play the music until I tell you too, thank-you!-

<•Birdie's 3rd person POV•>

Dear my most trusted pen pal,

Even if your here in Sukya, I'm still going to sent you letters. So, as you may know, today is the ninth day since Daisy left me and to be honest, I don't feel as bad as I should be. Sure, I did cry myself asleep, wallowed in our pictures on my phone, and downright stalked her on social media, but that only lasted for at least two nights. Ever since then, I've been pretty good. Which is not something to be very proud of. When Liam came(a very quiet boy with long, very blondish hair, large muscles of average height and parental issues), it felt as if some part of her was there with us. Especially those pink skates that Laim possesses. It reminded me of her pink pair when the two of us would walk to the skating rink to practice our balance, or to just get away from home for a little while. Gliding on the ice with her, it felt as if we escaped the world, and it was just me and her, comparing our books, sharing our gossipy stories, and laughing at nothing. One of the best things about her is that she never really treated me like I was a fragile object, but something special but not special. She treated me as if I was like her, letting me carve my own path instead of treading on it before me to make it easier. She treated me like an equal. I think, since I miss her so much and relish in our memories together for hours, that my emotions are trying to fool me, make me think I'm having a great time without her. Not that I'm not, but it just feels empty inside of me. Like, a part of me is missing, and even though I know she's probably gone for good, it seems that I just can't replace that missing piece, with Liam or even Lizzy. It feels like I'm a shattered vase. You can try and glue me back together but there's almost always that one piece that won't fit. A piece, that can't get replaced.

A piece that's broken.

Sincerely, your most trusted pen pal,
Bali Myna
09-21-18

Just as she swerved that last eight, Birdie's pencil tip broke on the lined paper. She stood up grumbling and left her materials on the marble desk, heading down the bright, decorated hallway and too the dining room where her backpack and cheerful mother lay in wait.

Smiling as her young, flourishing daughter walking in the room, she cheered with joy, "Hello Mija! I've made you some jelly toast for you to enjoy on your way to school and packed your lunch bag so we're all ready to go!"

"Thanks, mom. I'll meet you in the car, alright? I have to check something first."

Taking the backpack from her mother, Birdie started rummaging around inside of it.

"Very well. But please do hurry up, darling! You don't want to be late, now do you?" Her mother said, sashaying away, coffee in hand along with a few documents and 'special, state-of-the-art' pens hanging on the left chest pocket of her work clothes.

  Double checking to see if her mother left, Birdie gently placed her backpack on the tiles of the kitchen floor, and carefully tiptoed through the homey room and to the stairs that lead to the basement. Every step she took felt like it made enough noise to alert her mother as to what she's doing, but it never did and she made her way all the way down the stairs without conflict. 

There was only the sound of her walking sticks gently hitting the ground. She slowly made her way to the darkest corner of the room where she was hiding a special, glittery, blue-and-white box. A box that was her great-grandmother's last gift to her, a small little music box that had a wind-up lever on the bottom.