The Palette Part 30: Guilt

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Jesse brushed its fingers over the carpet for the 100th time in the last hour as a shiver coursed through its body. It wanted to help. It really did. It felt like a coward just sitting here while Mark was so sad only a few feet away.

Jesse had heard the tv on in the living room and had quietly snuck out of its big, warm bed and down the hallway with every intention of going to Mark's side and keeping him company.

Something had stopped it though, a mere foot from the corner of the hall. The air suddenly felt heavy and dark, stuffy even. It had stopped in its tracks and silently slipped down to the floor just out of sight.

The Palette Pt. 24: The Statue

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Mark stretched about as far as he could but still couldn't quite reach. He'd climbed up the side of the porch and was currently trying to balance on the railing. The security system had finally come in and Mark had wanted to install it right away. He just wasn't tall enough to both hold the motion sensor in place and bolt it in without falling on his ass.

The Palette Pt. 23: Colors

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The palette let its fingers play over all the different fabrics and colors. Mitch had brought in two big bags full of clothes and dumped them on its bed. He told the palette it could have anything it wanted.

It was too much clothing for a palette. They had to know that, didn't they? It had told Mark that a palette had no use for so many things but he insisted. He'd looked so excited for Jesse to have new clothes, and nervous, though it couldn't hope to understand why.

The Palette Pt. 21: Jesse

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Mark realized he was letting the water run for the third time now. He slammed down the handle and dragged a hand down his face. He was just trying to finish up the few dishes in the sink but kept getting distracted. He couldn't stop watching Jesse.

The kid was curled up on the couch, in a pile of blankets, a few of the dogs tucked in where they could. Lyra was practically sitting on his head.

Jesse had been so worried about her. He could barely hold his own head up but he'd asked if Lyra was okay the moment they were in the truck and heading out of the city. After everything, Jesse was worried about the freakin cat. She has barely left his side since.

🥺🥺♥️♥️🥰🥰

You're just out there making my day in the tags again!!! Thank you so damn much! Jesse is so loved and it makes my heart so happy!!

The Palette Pt. 21: Jesse

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Mark realized he was letting the water run for the third time now. He slammed down the handle and dragged a hand down his face. He was just trying to finish up the few dishes in the sink but kept getting distracted. He couldn't stop watching Jesse.

The kid was curled up on the couch, in a pile of blankets, a few of the dogs tucked in where they could. Lyra was practically sitting on his head.

Jesse had been so worried about her. He could barely hold his own head up but he'd asked if Lyra was okay the moment they were in the truck and heading out of the city. After everything, Jesse was worried about the freakin cat. She has barely left his side since.

The Palette Pt. 18: Mrs. Pike

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“Huh.”

Mark cast a glance over at his brother as he carefully maneuvered up the old driveway, overgrown hedges damn near scrapping at the sides of his truck.

“What?”

Mitchell shook his head. “I don't know. This just isn't what I was expecting.”

The Palette Pt. 16: The Box

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The palette woke with a jolt, its arms and legs hitting against something solid.

It couldn't quite think straight with the buzz that was humming through its head but it knew something was wrong. It thought it could see for a minute, that there was light, but now it was gone. The palette blinked its eyes against nothing but darkness.

The Palette Pt. 13: Stranger

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The palette pressed it's hands deep into the soil. It was cool and gritty between it's fingers. It pulled it's hands back out, bringing the soil with it and turning it over, exposing the darker earth beneath. Mark had shown the palette exactly how to do it. Living things were in the soil that the palette didn't want to hurt. It picked out the worms and put them over by the side of the house and helped the little spiders and bugs with their delicate legs get to safety. It found itself wanting to name each one, like the palette was given a name, but there were so many.

Jesse reached deeper into the soil this time, almost covering it's hands completely and pulled the earth out again. The palette was given tools to break up the soil but it liked the feel of the earth in it's hands. Mark said it was okay. There were roots this time and the palette didn't want to break them. It was scared it would sever the life of one of the little plants growing in the garden bed. Mark said it was okay three times now. He called it tilling and said it was important in order to help the new seeds grow. The palette trusted Mark so it kept going, hoping the plants would be okay.

The Palette Pt. 11: Safe

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The palette drew in all the cool morning air into it's lungs it could hold for the dozenth time in that past hour. It couldn't stop itself. Nothing here smelt like paint or turpentine or the stuffy, stagnant air of the supply closet.

It was outside today. With it's master. And it was actually going to be used!

The Palette Pt. 10: Two Steps Back

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Mark wasn't sure what woke him at first, but then a wet nose bumped up against his hand currently dangling off the side of the bed, definitely not for the first time. The sun wasn't even up yet but Cami kept whining at him and nudging his hand with her nose. She was one of his oldest rescues. A big, happy, yellow retriever with a gray face and bad hips. She probably just needed to go outside.

He climbed out of the warm blankets and shuffled down the hallway to her constant whimpers.

“I'm coming, relax.”

Rounding the corner to the living room, she went straight for Jesse's closet rather than the front door, with her tail tucked between her legs.

Mark's stomach dropped.

The Palette Pt.9: One Step Forward

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It had been given food again.

This was the third time it had been given food. The palette thought it couldn't have been more than two days since it had been sold. Three meals in two days was a lot to give a palette.

It didn't need that much food.

The Palette Pt. 8: The Bath

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The palette swept it's hands under the water, making little waves that lapped just under it's chin. It was fully and completely warm, from the top of it's head to the tips of it's toes.

Master, or Mark, he's told the palette to call him Mark. Nothing about that felt right to the palette but it liked that way the name sounded.

"Mark," the palette whispered under it's breath, it's throat catching on the K. It smiled, dipping under the water until it almost reached it's eyes. This master was so different than the palette's old master. The palette was trying to learn and adjust but none of the old routines and rules worked the same way as they did before. It was overwhelming and so confusing but, nice, in a way. This place felt, softer, somehow.

The Palette Pt. 6: The Pack

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Mitchell stood on his brother's porch reading and rereading the text.

Don't bother knocking. The kid is asleep.

He looked up at the closed door and shut his eyes tight. Whatever happens now, Mitchell started this. It's his responsibility to do right by that boy. He'd bought a bunch of clothes since he knew most of what his brother owned would fall right off the boy's hips.

At least for a while. It was the least he could do.

He swallowed down that uncomfortable feeling of walking, unannounced to someone's house, even if it was his brothers, and pushed open the door.