[stick] Joys of Creating

Sal watched the Moochill Festival fondly as they sipped on a warm cider. Amarelles and Symprites mingled together from stall to stall, the sounds of talking and laughter flooded the area. Everything felt warm, but Sal’s farm wasn’t one they liked to leave untended for too long. So after a few hours they left humming the few tunes they heard many singing together.

At home everything was as they left it. The plants that grew inside during the colder season had not changed and their fish pond was still frozen. The only thing that stirred was Snip, their beloved but old Alligawper, as she rolled over in her sleep. Sal crouched to pet her neck fondly and Snip let out a low, affectionate growl. Sal reached for their sack, intending to give the pet some jerky a local sold but they were surprised to see a small wood carving kit and a few little jars of paint had been stashed into their sack. It made them smile, they remembered hearing the legend of the Fish Stick Dagger, or whatever the actual term for it was, in passing. A good natured individual must’ve been giving these sets out for others to join in on.

They tossed the jerky to Snip and settled in an old, worn chair with the carving set and began to try to carve. The tools felt odd in their hands and the motions they used were only of vague memories they had of seeing someone carve wood. Their education from home consisted of scamming and fighting, everything else was something they had to learn on their own. Even farming and building this house was painfully learned from mistakes and failures. Leaks in the home when it rained always reminded Sal of how much they had to figure out, and inevitably fail at, all on their own. It was lonely sometimes but the loneliness was always chased away with knowing that they’re safe and free to do whatever they want to now. They admired their work, a lump of wood that maybe could resemble something if you closed both eyes, and laughed softly to theirself. It looked dreadful.

Nevertheless, Sal began to apply paints. Oranges and whites were applied haphazardly, bumping at the top of the fish creation and only adding speckles further down. When it was done, the paint job could possibly resemble a Cloudberry Oranda but only if you squinted well enough. They set it on the desk they had built, stuffing another small book under a leg that wasn’t built right to stop the carving from rolling off and then they stepped back. The carving really fit in with the quality of their house. It was undeniably Sal grade quality, which maybe to an inspector would be “dangerous” but to Sal it only made them feel proud.

Sal went out and gathered a few more pieces of wood, returning back to their chair to carve more questionable fish into sticks. To some maybe this was a waste of time with how poorly each came out but Sal was lost in the thrill of just being able to do something for no other reason than having the desire to do so.

As the sun came up and through Sal’s crooked window the light illuminated a sleeping Sal, covered in wood shavings and 5 carved pieces of wood resembling that of aquatic creatures. None of them painted but existing regardless.