Terribly Tiny Places
“Psst. Hey. Hey, gap-tooth!”
Tilly awoke with a start and flailed about in his pillow pile, eyes wide but out of focus. The large bell on his collar chimed. The youth frantically fumbled to silence it.
A chuckle came from outside the bars to his home and Tilly blushed with shame. It was still dark in the Room outside. He didn’t know exactly who was out there - any number of folk from communities in the Walls, in the Floors, Outside. Word travelled, he was famous. Everyone wanted to see him.
“Whada they got ya wearing this time?”
Well, everyone wanted to see what he was wearing and then jeer at him.
Tilly sighed and pulled several of his pillows on top of himself. Maybe if he hid or was disinteresting they’d go away. It usually worked.
“Aww. Don’ be like that, buckey. We come all the way up from Root Cellar to see ya.”
Well, it usually worked on big’uns. Lil’ folk were more persistent.
If Root Cellar was supposed to be somewhere impressive Tilly didn’t know it. But he didn’t know much, really. He knew how to make the big’uns happy. He knew he’d always be fed. He knew he had it a lot better off than the lil’ folk in the Walls: big’uns knew he was there so he didn’t have to sneak, or hide, or steal, or rut, or do all those things that these guys did.
Tilly closed his eyes and tried to sleep again.
“We jus’ stole a sugar cube. I’ll give ya a taste if ya come over.”
Tilly’s mouth watered. His usual meals were bland but filling. They were frequent (so long as the big’uns remembered he was there). That one hungry week was an exception. He must have been bad and deserved it.
But sugar cubes… The taste was magic in his mouth. A big’un had given him a lick of sugar once from their tea cup. He’d acted up after that - so much energy, so many happy feelings. It was the only thing he actively craved. Now his only source was from lil’ folk like these.
Tilly sighed heavily, heaving his shoulders so that the pillows scattered about him.
“You promise?” He asked, his face scrunched up in a look of stern scrutiny. Or what he thought was that expression. Someone outside his home tittered before being shushed.
“Sure thing! Root Cellar folk are honest and true!”
Tilly rose up, his shoulders rolled forward dejectedly, his arms stiff, his fingers balled up into little fists. He tried to keep his face blank, but had the curse of what seemed a perpetual smile, showing off the large chip between his two front teeth.
His blonde hair was done up into two awkward pigtails that swept down to the small of his back. His usual collar was replaced by a large frilled one that stuck out on all sides and wobbled up and down as he walked. A large bell was affixed to the front - big’uns had a thing for attaching bells to him. He wore something between a body sock and a corset which tied with several very large bows but left his privates exposed. It turned to stockings which covered his legs and feet.
On the other side of the bars to his home Tilly could now make out the shapes of three lil’ folk in the moonlight. One of them looked familiar but Tilly couldn’t remember names. They all kinda looked the same: narrow and lithe with dark, scruffy hair. They wore ill-fitting and tattered clothes that were a patchwork of scraps and bits of leftovers from the big’uns.
Now he remembered. That was the name of the smaller one: Patcher. Tilly had seen him in the Room before, scrounging for cloth from under the big’uns noses. Tilly told him off. He’d get caught and then they’d both be in trouble!
They must have been able to see Tilly more clearly in the dim light, for the group all burst out laughing as Tilly approached, his bell tinkling ever so slightly with each tiny step.
“Didn’t I tell ya?” Patcher chortled to the others. “No dignity! He looks like a dumb toy! An’ he just let’s ‘em have their way with him!”
“Damn. Ya look ridiculous!” Said the bigger of the three. “Ya don’t feel stupid? Ya don’t wanna stand up for yourself? Ya just wanna be a prissy pampered posie?”
“He’s all ribbons and bells and things. Wouldn’t survive Outside on his own for two minutes.” Continued Patcher. “You’d get snagged on somethin’ or break a nail or jingle all the way into a rat’s mouth.”
“Dumb as a bug, too.”
“I can see that. He’d don’t even cover himself - just parading his downstairs around like a beastie!”
It was true. Tilly’s attire seldom included anything to cover himself. The big’uns didn’t want to clean up his messes when he peed or did his other business. It was smart of them!
“Turn around. Show us your fancy frills, gap-tooth.”
Tilly slowly did as his was bid. Somehow under their judging eyes he felt different than under the indifferent gaze of the big’uns. Like he wanted to go back and hide in his pillows. But he knew they’d pester him until they got what they wanted.
“Lookit that rosey lil’ bum. Extra padded for all the laying around he does.”
“Haha. If I sat around on pillows all day, I wouldn’t wear pants either. Just lay there with my mouth open, waiting for some big’un to give me a mouthful of sweeties.”
“And lookin’ the fool. How can ya even walk in that mess?”
Tilly was always confused by the reaction of lil’ folk. The big’uns thought nothing of dressing Tilly up in whatever they wished. They were endlessly entertained by his appearance, the tricks he’d perform, the way he cuddled against them when he was drowsy. He just thought it a normal part of his life until he met the first lil’ folk in the House.
Lil’ folk were completely different. They looked like him. They were the same size and build. But they dressed plainly and scampered in and out of the Floor and Walls. But their laughter got to him quickly, made him ashamed. Tilly’s face and shoulders burned red with disgrace as the three stared at him.
After a time in awkward silence, he looked down at the ground and held out his hand expectantly between the bars. “Okay. You’ve seen me. Can… can I get my treat now?”
Patcher mocked Tilly’s voice. “‘Treat’, he says. Just like a good pet.”
Was that a bad thing? The big’uns wanted a good pet! Tilly frowned uncertainly. Talking to lil’ folk always made his head hurt. They didn’t understand.
“Give him the sugar, guys. We’re gunna get caught!” Said the third lil’ person, finally. He’d remained silent until now. Glancing up, Tilly saw what he thought was a look of pity in the third’s face.
“We’ll give it to him like a good pet. Get down on ya hands and knees, beastie. Open ya mouth!”
“Wha?”
“Ya want your treat?” Patcher opened his pack and produced a block of sugar. It looked massive in his hands as he held it up. “We’re keepin’ our word, pet.”
Tilly’s lower lip quivered with uncertainty. He wanted that sugar. He’d earned it! But something about this felt even more humiliating. It was one thing to do this for the big’uns. They deserved it. They were bigger and stronger and smarter. These guys were just lil’ folk. Like him!
Patcher smirked and ran his tongue along an edge of the cube. “Good stuff. Oh well! Guess we’re off, crooked-smile. Let’s see if you’re more interested next time!” The lil’ person turned on his bare feet and started walking to the table edge. The other two, startled by Patcher’s move, took a moment longer to react and catch up.
Tilly leaned against the bars and extended his arm as far as he could, groping futilely after the trio was they left as though he could some how bring them back with the sweetie. They were really going to leave him and not give him his treat. He’d been good! He’d done what they said! It wasn’t fair!
Tears ran down the sides of Tilly’s face as he slumped down to his knees. “Wait! I’m doing it! Don’t go!” Patcher looked back smugly. Lower lip still quivering, Tilly opened his mouth and stuck out his tongue as he’d be told. He felt stupid. Even other lil’ folk thought nothing more of him than a pet.
Maybe that is all he was.
***
Watched Fantastic Planet per the advice of Ms M. Of course I found all kinds of erotic undertones in it and wanted to visit them on my own.
Just a smattering of ideas here. I’m looking on maybe expanding the world or doing an illustration. Hopefully things make sense as read. I’m open to some critiquing or suggestions.