Known Abilities: One of the sneakiest littles around owing partially to his small frame, pretty accomplished climber (though not as speedy as Sam thanks to his shorter body), weaving and sewing clothes that are easier for the small folk to move around in
Oscar is a survivor, and has made it to adulthood despite the odds saying he shouldn’t.
Background: Oscar grew up in a little motel in Breckenridge, Colorado. He never knew his father, and his mother never talked about him. His mother was teaching him the skills he needed to survive at their size, but when he was around seven years old, she went out for supplies and never returned. After that, Oscar had to pick up his learning on his own, going out for supplies and food by himself despite his extremely timid nature. He never grew out of that, but he became very good at surviving despite the bad luck thrown at him.
Quote: Why… why are you hanging around with a human?
Th-the thunder’s a lot louder out here than in the walls.
Sorry, folks. Laughter may sound like a nice prompt, but the only thing that came to me was more sad Oscar. If I have to think of this stuff, so do you ;P
There was laughter in the other room.
Oscar looked up from where he sat curled up on his bed, startled by the sudden burst of noise. Noriko was watching TV out there, enjoying her favorite show. Oscar never knew what made her laugh so much, but so long as it kept her attention away from him for a while, he liked it. Whenever Noriko paid him attention, she wanted to hold him in her hands constantly, poking at him or petting his messy hair.
He hated it. He hated it so much, but he knew better than to think things would ever be any different. Oscar was just her newest favorite doll.
His prison proved it. When Noriko was bored with him, she put him away in a wooden box with a glass front, all designed to look like a room in a house. A dollhouse with him on display at all times.
In one corner there was a round cushion, meant to be his bed. There was a doll couch facing the front glass wall, and to the side opposite the bed was a table and a chair. The walls themselves were decorated with cheap patterned paper. Oscar wished he could find an escape through that tattered wallpaper like he could in a real room.
Instead, he could only lounge around in the miniature room, staring sullenly through the glass front wall. The room beyond was the very same one where he’d tried to make his escape under the floorboards those weeks ago. He knew better now. Every entrance he might fight to the walls could be a trap, and it wasn’t worth getting hurt again.
His ankle had only just healed, and the memory of the pain it caused him made him curl up tighter on his cushion.
Noriko laughed again in the other room.
Oscar had no idea how many people like him had spent time in that workroom. Noriko made a hobby of them, measuring them for clothes that she made herself. She played with them by corralling them between her hands, watching them try to get past. Oscar knew because it was her favorite game with him.
Even now, he wore a new outfit made for him by her delicate sewing work. It was more cumbersome than the clothes he always made for himself, but those had been too ratty, she said. Too plain. Oscar had watched his hard work get thrown out in the trash after she made him change.
It was a good fit, but the fabric was thicker than he was used to. Oscar found it stiff and unwieldy, hard to move around. It worked well for the humans keeping him captive.
He shifted where he sat, turning away from that depressing glass wall. Even though he knew Noriko would be back at least one more time before going to bed herself, he lay down on his cushion. Teary eyes traced the simple pattern on the wallpaper until it blurred and he had to blink.
Oscar wasn’t hungry anymore. He wasn’t cold or desperate for supplies anymore. He had someone around that seemed to care, in her own terrifying way, when he was injured or scared. These were all things that he thought he wanted.
If this was how his prayers were answered, he didn’t want to wish for anything ever again.
I agree! ;o; Oscar needs a rescue desperately. He’s simply too little and timid to keep fighting back against what’s happening to him. It’s all so scary and the humans are so mean to him.
It’d be just awful if it were BT Oz, wouldn’t it? The little guy with one hopeful time in all his life, knowing he has friends out there but that they’ll probably never find him. What a sad thought…
The AU for that story and the ones before it is as of yet unspecified. It’s not yet clear which set of Winchesters is missing their Oz, but one thing is certain. He could use some help! Oscar is all alone with miss Noriko, and he doesn’t have anyone that would come and look for him.
It’s going to be a rough ride for the timid little guy.
“He got in the floor,” Noriko explained, her disappointed voice muffled by the ceiling of wood over Oscar’s head. Some boards creaked under the humans’ weight.
“Lemme guess,” her boyfriend said, amusement in his tone. “Left him up on the table? You know they’re good climbers, Nori.”
There was a sound of a playful slap on a shoulder. “Just get him out, please?”
Oscar limped faster. The floor overhead creaked and groaned as the huge human man crossed the room. If he were to glance behind, he was sure he’d see the light from the knot in the wood winking out under a massive shadow.
Oscar was over halfway across the room from there. They’d never find him once he got into the walls on the other side. He was so close.
Or so he thought.
Up ahead was a sight that made the blood rush out of Oscar’s face. Cold fear washed over him.
Wedged in between the support boards was another block of wood, perpendicular to the rest. It blocked passage further in the room, and Oscar could tell from looking at it that it’d be too heavy to push even if he didn’t have an injured ankle.
There was a smiley face scratched into it with faded ink.
A trap. The floor was a trap.
Oscar stood frozen, favoring one leg. The humans moved around above him. They were ready for him to attempt an escape. Noriko never once worried about losing track of him. Humans were more powerful and that inked smiley face bore into him while heavy footsteps approached overhead. Tears stung in his eyes.
A wrenching sound tore through the air and light burst down on him. Oscar looked up in shock and tried to throw himself backwards, out of the light, as Noriko’s boyfriend pulled a floorboard right out of its base.
Oscar’s ankle protested, and he fell. Seconds later, a hand snatched in at him, and he was pinned. The dust dug into his cheek from the pressure on his back.
Then, the powerful fingers dragged him backwards. Oscar swept through the dust until fingertips the size of his head pinched the back of his shirt. With no further warning, they yanked him upwards.
Oscar tried to curl into himself as much as he could as he soared up out of the floor in a precarious grip. The room whirled around him and the floor waited below as the man held him up.
It didn’t take long for Noriko to snatch him in a fist and wrench him away. As her hand closed around him, Oscar finally yelped in pain.
“Oh, no, baby,” Noriko cooed, whisking Oscar up towards her face. She opened her fist to cradle Oscar in both hands, and all he could see through the jostling pain was her eyes and the straight black curtain of her hair.
“Did Thomas hurt you, little sweetie?” she prompted. Oscar shuddered and tried to curl into a ball on her palm. A single finger nudged at him and forced him to uncurl again. “Tell me where you’re hurt.” There was no room for defiance in her tone.
Oscar sniffled and realized there were tears spilling from his eyes and tracking through the dust on his face. He shook all over, fear thrumming in every nerve. He really was just a little pet doll to these people. They knew he’d go for an escape and had a trap for him in there. It was all so overwhelming and he sobbed quietly.
Noriko expected an answer, so he lifted a shaky hand to brush at his eyes. His tears were grainy with dust, and his cheek stung from dragging along the ground. He met her dramatically concerned gaze and then pointed to his sprained ankle without a word.
She gasped and held him even closer so she could observe the swelling. If he wanted, Oscar could reach up and touch her face from so close. Instead, he lay down in her hands and covered his face while more sobs shook his little shoulders.
“Ohhhh my gosh,” Noriko whispered, her voice almost breaking. “Thomas, you hurt him!”
Thomas grunted noncommittally. The floorboard clattered back into place. “He coulda got that any time after he scampered off. Lease now he won’t run off so easy.”
“Oh, you’re so awful,” Noriko scolded. Oscar hiccupped. Her voice was so loud and close.
A fingertip nudged at his side and rolled him over again. Noriko took advantage of Oscar’s surprised flail to unfold his fearful curl and pin him to her palm with a thumb. She walked out of the room, looking him over with pity. Oscar held back a whimper of pain and defeat while more quiet tears came.
“Oh, sweet pea,” Noriko said quietly. “Don’t worry. Mama’s gonna get you all cleaned up and then we can put some ice on it. Gotta help you heal up right for when it’s time to meet Mina.”
Oscar shivered as Noriko reached the sink in her cluttered kitchen. That name had come up again. Mina. Oscar didn’t know who she was. Just another human.
The water turned on with a metallic squeal of the faucet, and crashed into the chrome basin of the sink. Oscar pushed other thoughts away. His focus fixed on the water as Noriko, still cradling him in one hand, moved him inexorably towards the relentless stream.
Oscar stumbled, but he barely hit the floor before he scrambled back up and kept running. Everything in him focused forward, across the long expanse of hardwood flooring. He ignored the rumbling in the floor and the gaping space overhead, unfamiliar surroundings all looming in his periphery. He didn’t know this house, but he didn’t need to in order to recognize an avenue of escape.
It was the only chance he had.
They’d taken his bag. Tossed it out with the trash, no matter how much he wished they wouldn’t. It was only shabby cloth to them. Worthless.
To Noriko and her obedient boyfriend, Oscar was the one of value. A high priced little doll that needed to be fixed up and made perfect. They didn’t care how much he wept.
The first chance at escape came when Noriko left him out on her work table to go and fix herself a snack. She was so assured that he was trapped up there that she’d set him down on the middle of the surface without even a word to him after holding him up to her eyes, turning him this way and that.
From what Oscar understood, he and other smaller folk like him were a hobby to the dark-haired woman. She cooed over him and told him how precious he was, but she never treated him like a person. He had to escape.
Climbing down a table leg without the aid of his safety pin and string was difficult and risky, but Oscar hadn’t had a choice. Desperation had kept him safe for the haphazard slide all the way down to the floor, and he’d hit the ground running. He had to get himself out of sight before she came back.
He was a few feet away from a rolling stand raised off the ground a few inches by squeaky wheels when her footsteps returned to the room. “Oh, shit!” Noriko’s girly voice boomed overhead. Oscar flinched and it spurred him onward. Something clattered and more tremors stomped through the floor.
Oscar dove under the stand just in time for one of Noriko’s socked feet to land nearby. He pushed himself back to his feet and scurried to the back of the rolling cabinet near the wall, only turning to look at her when he reached the baseboard.
A curtain of black hair came into view before finally part of her face blocked everything else beyond the heavy stand. One eye bore into him and Oscar shuddered. Noriko had a way of smiling, appearing as cheerful as ever, while ice stabbed out of her expression. This was one of those times.
“Awww, who’s a little stinker?” she cooed. “You’re getting yourself all dusty, little baby. Why don’t you come out and we can rinse you off? I won’t even put you in time out if you come out right now.”
Oscar winced. ‘Time out,’ as she called it in that saccharine voice of hers, was an old pill bottle with holes cut in the lid. Oscar had yet to earn any time locked up in the cramped container, but it had been made clear to him what could earn him a stay.
An escape attempt meant at least half a day trapped in that bottle. Oscar would have no hope of getting out if he was stuck in there.
Still, he didn’t move to come out. This was his only chance to get away.
While Noriko kept her eye on him, Oscar glanced around for a new escape route. He knew she could move the cabinet if she wanted to get to him. He needed a better place to hide, somewhere out of reach. If she got a hand on him, it was over.
Just when he thought he wouldn’t find a way out of this mess, he spotted it. A hole in the old floorboard from a knot in the wood. It was barely more than an inch wide, but Oscar could tell that it bore all the way through.
The floorboards. If he could escape to the internals of the house, Noriko would never catch sight of him again.
“Don’t!” her voice ordered even as he dashed for the hole in the floor. Oscar shuddered but ignored her warning.
He almost tripped over his own feet to reach it. Right as he crouched by the opening to peer in, Noriko’s face disappeared from the gap at the front of Oscar’s current shelter. He had no time. He scooted forwards and slipped into the knog feet first. The wood floor groaned as the cabinet shifted ominously on its wheels.
Oscar was a skinny little guy. He didn’t need to make effort to fit, while the huge furniture overhead moved. He dropped out of sight before the human woman could get the stand out of the way with a loud rumbling of its wheels on the wooden boards.
Noriko swore loudly overhead, and Oscar fell a distance almost twice his own height. The dark under the floor welcomed him like an old friend. Relief welled up in him until he hit the ground.
Pain flared through his ankle, weak after years of fighting to get enough food. Oscar landed in a heap and stifled a squeal of pain. The wooden ceiling several inches above him rumbled with Noriko’s resentful stomps.
Oscar reached a shaky hand to brush over his ankle and foot. It stung when he touched it, and there was already swelling around the most painful spots, but his cloth wraps kept it steady through the pain.
Just a sprain. He groaned and pushed himself up to his feet while in the distance Noriko called for her boyfriend.
He wasn’t out yet. He couldn’t stop running until he was far from those two.
The first hobbled steps nearly knocked him over again. Oscar grimaced and stayed upright through sheer determination.
Under the floorboards was a thick layer of dust, rained down from above over the years. Thick support beams ran in rows, creating walls on either side of Oscar. He glanced behind and found more supports. The nearest wall was barred from him.
He’d have to trek across the long passageway under the room where Noriko did her work. She and her boyfriend would be right overhead the whole way, unseen giants looking for him. Angry at him.
Fear and a pounding heart drove him on, despite the slow progress on his hurt ankle. Pain pulsed up his leg with every step, preventing a full run no matter how much he tried to hurry himself along. No gaps showed in the support boards on either side, and Oscar needed to find one soon.
Break my heart into pieces, why don’t ya (Don’t worry, I will just do that to myself). This prompt is a continuation of this other one. The AU is still unnamed and not planned out really. It’s just sad how dare.
Oscar never did adjust to the darkness inside the ice bucket. No light leaked in past the lid, giving him nothing. Even inside the walls, some light made it in. He was adapted to make use of it like no human ever could, but now even he was blinded.
He was curled into a tight ball, covering his ears to block the sounds from outside. An engine rumbled and a radio blared. Oscar’s own heart pounded. No matter what, he couldn’t protect himself from that noise out there. It was unfamiliar from so close.
Everything was a reminder that he’d been taken away from his home.
Life in the Knight’s Inn motel wasn’t easy. Oscar had to fight for survival almost every day. When he wasn’t critically low on food, the draft was enough to chill his tiny bones. From waking up to burrowing into his nest of blankets to sleep, Oscar worked hard. He spent his time collecting supplies, or sitting in his ringbox chair to weave and sew.
It was all gone now. Now he was at the mercy of a human and no help was coming.
His cheeks were dry and scratchy from the many tears that had already leaked from his eyes. He had his eyes shut tight to hold back more, but they escaped in spite of his efforts. Oscar sobbed in time with his breathing and tried to think of a silver lining. Something about his situation had to have a good side.
He couldn’t think of one.
Bumps in the road jostled him, but Oscar always found his way back into his desperate curl. It was all he could think to do to protect himself, though he knew it made him a coward. He could be trying to find a way out, but in his heart he knew there was none. It comforted him more to huddle into himself and hide in his own thoughts.
Thus he traveled for hours, leaving his home far behind. Farther than he’d ever be able to travel on his own, all while stuck in the dark confines of a stolen ice bucket. He doubted the human cared, if he was willing to steal an entire person, too, three and a quarter inches tall or not.
At length, the movement came to an end, along with the loud sounds of the engine and the radio. Oscar’s ears rang with the sudden absence, but then he choked on a yelp as the bucket moved. His captor grabbed it up and soon enough, the sound of the car was replaced by the sound of heavy footsteps.
He curled up more fervently, making himself as tiny as he could. His body quivered from the strain and the fear, and his stomach quailed. He was fortunate that he hadn’t yet eaten that day, or he might have been sick already.
The steps carried him through a new door, and when it slammed behind the human, Oscar could feel the vibration in his whole body. He winced, and then flinched again as the human shouted across the house he’d arrived in.
“Nori! Where are ya?” he called.
Another voice answered from somewhere, and the steps resumed. Oscar logged away the hollow sound of the steps. Hardwood floors, with plenty of space beneath them. Floorboards made a great hiding place for people like him, since humans had difficulty getting to them without destroying their home.
“What is it?” the other voice said, closer this time. A woman, from the sound of things.
Oscar squeaked when his prison slammed down onto a surface. His captor answered, sounding prouder than ever. “Check out what I found for us, Noriko.”
Oscar received no further warning before the lid above him lifted away at last with a scraping of plastic. Light burst in and he shut his eyes tight against the sudden onslaught. He flinched away from the face looming overhead, curtained by sheets of straight black hair.
Noriko moved even faster than her companion. Before Oscar could register that her hand was in his field of vision, slender fingers had wrapped around him. She yanked him out of the bucket and shoved the plastic container away absently.
Oscar found himself trapped in a fist before a pair of dark eyes that pierced right through him. Noriko looked interested, but as she looked him over, a frown appeared on her lips. Her grip on Oscar shifted and he suddenly found himself with a thumb against his stomach and two fingers against his back.
Once again, he was lucky he didn’t have anything in his stomach to make him sick. He planted his hands against her thumb and winced, curling up with the pain of her careless grip.
“He’s really skinny,” she pointed out critically, glancing past him at the man standing across the table. “You’ll have to make sure to fatten him up at least a little or she’ll think we sold her a sick one again.”
“I will, Nori, it’s not like she can show up instantly anyway, we’ll get him ready. This one’s exactly the kind she wants,” he replied. Oscar looked between the two of them, confused and wishing he had the bravery to ask who ‘she’ was.
Noriko smiled, a girlish expression that had no place on such a frightening face. Oscar’s breathing raced and he closed his eyes when she focused on him again. That gaze instilled in him a sense that he was little more than a fun new possession to her.
“He is a cutie,” she pointed out. A fingertip forced its way under his chin and tilted his head back. Oscar opened his eyes wide and gasped with pain. “Almost a shame to let him go, he’d look so cute in a little dollhouse.”
“Nori,” the man chided. “With the money from this one, we can get you a dozen cute dolls that you don’t even have to look after when you don’t want to.”
Noriko smiled again and lowered her hand. Oscar was released to the table in front of her with a surprised huff as he landed. The hand settled next to him, fingertips drumming the surface absently while she answered. “I guess you’re right,” she sighed.
Oscar pushed himself to his feet, his legs shaky and sore. He had his head tilted back to watch the humans, who weren’t looking at him for the moment. The man smiled excitedly at Noriko and grabbed the ice bucket from the table. “So, how’d I do?” he asked.
She tilted her head and pouted her lips coyly. Oscar sidled away from her hand, only for that dark gaze to slide down to him. Noriko’s hand casually swept him up again and he squeaked and squirmed in her grip. She ignored his efforts and didn’t release him no matter how he tried to wriggle free. A thumb pressed against his cheek teasingly. “He’s darling. I’ll have to measure him for a new outfit later. You did good, honey.”
Oscar shuddered and more tears raced down his cheeks. The human lifted him up and he sucked in a gasp, and then her grip opened up. His yelp of fear cut off as he landed back on the man’s palm. “Now go put him away for now, you got back in time for our show.”
Oscar covered his head with his hands as the fingers arced overhead until they closed in a fist around him. A voice, so disinterested in him and his fear, rumbled all around. “Be right back.”
It was unusual for Oscar to care about how much he overslept. His routine for his entire life had been to sleep when he was tired, and after helping Sam and Dean Winchester hunt down a demon, he’d gone to bed exhausted. The day before ran together in a long chain of scary events, many of which he’d witnessed from inside a pocket.
Oscar hadn’t yet had time to come to terms with everything, and he was already in the vents, wandering back toward that room. Back to the odd pair of brothers he’d befriended despite how crazy they could be.
If his memories were to be believed, their insanity had rubbed off on him.
In spite of himself, he was glad to hear a familiar gruff voice filtering into the air ducts. They were still there, even though he’d slept into the morning. He found that he wouldn’t even mind if breakfast was gone already. He could at least see them off before they left.
I got cling a couple times for Oscar, one by himself and another with another character that I will work on next. For now, have a cute little story that’s pretty much canon for Food and Monsters Oscar as well as Brothers Together Oscar and any au where he grows up in the Knight’s Inn motel.
Reading time: ~5 minutes
Oscar rarely had to improvise his hiding places like this. Normally, he made sure he took as few risks as he could, to avoid situations where he needed to. He trusted certain hiding places in the room every time: under the dresser, behind the nightstand, and, in a pinch, under a bed.
Just inside the cuff of a discarded sweater on the floor? He hated it.
His heart pounded as the floor shook. The human that stumbled around, occasionally grumbling with a headache, had come in the night before very drunk, and now he was paying for it. Oscar didn’t know what it felt like to be drunk or hungover, but from what he’d seen of the kinds of people that stayed in his motel, he wasn’t interested in finding out.
Usually they stayed asleep for much longer. Oscar had crept into the room in the dark well after the human flopped onto their bed, hoping to capitalize on the food spilled on the floor when they came in. They had never noticed that their takeout box didn’t land on the table when they put it down.
Of course, he couldn’t predict that they’d lurch off of the bed towards the bathroom. Oscar was lucky that the sweater was there while he stuffed his bag full of vegetables and pieces torn from a piece of soft bread.
He had to wait it out while the human figured out what they wanted to do, all from within the thick sleeve of the knit sweater. He counted their steps in the earthquakes and sighed. At least they weren’t cognizant enough to turn on the lights. He was out of sight.
The human knocked something over in the bathroom while they were in there. Oscar sighed heavily. Shampoo bottles, maybe an away kit or something like it, clattered to the floor. Then, following that, the ground shook all the way out into the motel room as the human dropped down to their knees to scrabble at the fallen items. In the dark.
This was an easier one. Oscar shimmied back out from his hiding place, peeking out across the floor just to be sure. He could see in the dark better than any drunk human could with the lights on.
With a huff, Oscar pulled himself the rest of the way out of the sleeve. He was glad no one had seen his startled dive.
Tufts of green fuzz from the sweater stuck to him. Oscar brushed them off and jogged towards the dresser. The human was muttering to themselves about how tough it was to find things in the dark. So far, they hadn’t thought to turn the light on and help their search along. Oscar let himself smile as he ducked out of sight and approached his wallpaper entrance to get into the walls.
He was halfway home before he noticed it. A tuft of green fuzz, the size of his head, clung to his shoulder. The static kept it there, but it was so light that he hadn’t noticed it. Oscar frowned and reached over to grab it. The static cling changed to his hand instead.
“Hey,” he muttered, shaking his hand vigorously. The fuzz moved to the back of his hand instead, resolutely sticking to him. Oscar huffed and stared at it as though it were a mischievous mouse pup. “Getoff.”
He grabbed the thing in his other hand and held it out in front of him, as far as his little arms could reach. When he let it go, it drifted downwards, but only for a second before veering back towards him. Oscar was startled, and he fell backwards in the dust.
The fuzz clung to his chest now.
Oscar pushed himself back up with a frown, and brushed the dust from his pants. The fuzz still clung to him. Static was powerful for someone so small. Trying to brush the thing down to the ground only got it stuck to his hand again, and shaking it off sent it drifting back to his side.
“You’re trouble,” he accused it in a hushed voice. Then, since it insisted on clinging to him despite all his efforts, Oscar continued on his way home.
Oscar didn’t have anyone to admit it to, but he wouldn’t be ashamed to say he liked when the decorations changed in the motel’s main office. There was hardly room for anything in there among the papers and the coffee machine and the outdated, clunky computer, but somehow the elderly woman in charge found places to mark the season.
From paper bats and pumpkins on the bulletin boards for Halloween to a Christmas tree barely two times Oscar’s size on the counter next to the worn bell, she did her best to make the place cozy. The motel wasn’t new and shiny like places depicted on the motel’s many mismatched TVs, but she did her best.
Oscar, whose life was monotonous to a fault, loved it.
It had been a long winter. The walls were frigid, especially at night, and Oscar had spent more time out of his little home than he usually dared. He had to lean against the metal air ducts that ran through the motel, just to borrow some warmth at times.
The tiny flowerpots with colorful pipe-cleaner-and-paper flowers stuck in them signalled that the world outside must be thawing. Oscar knew flowers meant Spring, and he couldn’t be more relieved.
The lady who ran the motel had brought in a shoebox that morning, filled with the tiny, cheap crafts. The flowerpots were half Oscar’s height, and the flowers were just taller than he. They brought a splash of color to the drab office of the motel.
They wouldn’t erase the dustiness, or the water damage on some of the ceiling tiles, or the squeaky sounds from the vents creaking, but they cheered the space and one hidden watcher immensely. Oscar lingered by the vent near the floor and watched her bustle around to find places for her little crafts. He didn’t need to stay; he’d already made sure there were no whispers of pest control or remodeling in the motel. And yet, with every flowerpot that found its home in the office, Oscar’s spirits lifted just a little more.
The bell over the door released a weak jingle as someone entered. The manager’s shoes stopped in their tracks, and then with speed that always surprised Oscar, turned to face the newcomer. Oscar glanced across the floor, past the underside of the desk, and recognized the sensible shoes of one of the maids.
“Señora,” the maid greeted. “Room thirteen, I didn’t do it, I swear.” She sounded flustered and Oscar frowned.
The manager, who always looked more severe than she really was, interrupted before the frazzled maid could talk herself out of breath like she sounded like she wanted to. “Marie, what is it?”
“A-a hole in the wall, miss. I went to clean, and it was there already,” the maid answered.
“Oh, dear,” the manager muttered. There was a rustling of paper as she made space to set down her box of decorations and stepped around the desk. Unbeknownst to her, one of the mini flowerpots plummeted to the floor and landed on the carpet with a faint thump that only Oscar heard.
His lips parted as the two humans left the room to assess the damage in one of the rooms (he thought he’d heard someone getting angry in thirteen the other night) and left the office empty. Oscar stared out at that fallen flowerpot, the paper face of the flower angled forlornly towards the ceiling, and chewed his bottom lip.
Several long minutes stretched out with no change, before Oscar finally slipped out of the vent, dropping the inch to the floor in a deft crouch. He might only be a kid, but he was good at staying quiet and moving like a shadow in and out of the motel rooms.
He ignored the looming furniture and the cluttered papers that hung partway over the edge of the desk far overhead. Oscar darted out as quickly as he could to where the flowerpot had fallen, his lungs working fast in time with his accelerated heartbeat. He might be good at this, but that didn’t mean he wasn’t primed for danger.
Oscar wasn’t sure why he decided this, but when he reached the quickly-made little craft, he hardly paused to look it over. As soon as he got to it, he walked around to one side and placed his hands on the gritty orange side of the little clay pot to roll it along. The paper flower rustled against the floor as he went.
It was slower going, but Oscar pushed that craft across the floor towards his vent. He’d bring it home, and put it to use. He could take the pipe cleaner and the pot for something, he was sure, and he could keep the paper flower as it was. There wasn’t much in his home to decorate it, nothing but ratty curtains hiding the pantry and his bedroom.
He was less than a foot away from the vent, pushing the cumbersome flowerpot along as quickly as he could, when tremors in the floor sent his heartrate up again. Oscar glanced over his shoulder for only an instant before hurrying around the flowerpot and dashing back towards the vent.
He made it into the safe darkness just as that bell jingled again. Oscar whirled around to make sure no one was rushing towards the wall where he hid, his eyes wide.
His abandoned flowerpot still lay on the floor where he left it. Out away from the desk, it would be easier to spot, but the shoes that walked into view across the room didn’t belong to anyone familiar. They strode along and then the harsh ring of the call bell filled the room several times, echoing around weirdly. A guest.
The management spotting him would be bad, but a guest would be worse. Guests could raise more hell than anyone, and the apparent hole in the wall in room thirteen was proof.
Oscar sighed, then turned away from the room. It wouldn’t do to linger on the flowerpot. He’d missed his chance at it, but at least he’d be able to see the nice springtime decorations if he came to spy on the office again.
Brothers Apart 