Week 4: Figure Of Speech
Jul. 20th, 2025 03:49 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
inkstainedfingertips“And… post.”
Agnes took off her glasses and set them on her desk as she sat back in her chair and smiled to herself. This was her best article yet. The secret she’d exposed regarding old Pastor Praymore—writing under her pseudonym, of course—had been just too juicy to pass up and was sure to get the town talking. And she would just sit back and enjoy the chaos that ensued.
As the sole proprietor of the Gargleford Grapevine, the town’s premier gossip website, Agnes took pride in her work, although nobody knew it was her work. She often walked around town and listened to everybody. Not only did she get her juiciest bits of goss by simply being a fly on the wall, she also got to hear what others thought of her work.
Most derided the Grapevine as tabloid trash. Others said it was exploitative. Still others said it was cruel and the work of a bully who had nothing better to do with their time than sit around stuffing their faces with Cheetos while spreading malicious lies.
Agnes quite enjoyed Cheetos but she did not spread lies. Although people spent a lot of time saying a lot of really mean things about her work, Agnes’ biggest takeaway was that they were, in fact, reading her work. People posed and postured like her work offended them, but the skyrocketing traffic to her website proved they liked it.
A knock at the door got Agnes out of her chair. She popped another Cheeto into her mouth and with a grin on her orange dust stained lips, waddled to the door. A dark-haired woman with cold, piercing blue eyes stood on the porch staring at her though the screen. She had a pleasant face and a sweet smile, but something about the woman gave her an attack of goosebumps.
“Y—yes?” Agnes asked.
“Good afternoon, Agnes. I’m Hilda Hexenhoot,” she said, her voice high and melodic. “Or should I call you, Gertie Gabblepot?”
Agnes’ blood ran cold as she gaped at the woman. Nobody knew her pseudonym. Nobody. She cleared her throat and put on a pleasant smile she hoped looked more real than it felt.
“I’m sorry… who? are you?” Agnes asked.
“Hilda Hexenhoot,” she replied. “I’m here to tell you something important.”
Agnes swallowed hard and cleared her throat. “I—I’m not sure who you think I am, but—”
Hilda arched an eyebrow at her as a grin quirked the corner of her mouth upward. “Your website does quite a bit of business,” she says. “You make quite a living using your words.”
“I—I’m still not sure what you mean.”
“Words have power, Gertie Gabblepot. Words have great power. And you are using yours to destroy, rather than create beauty in this world,” Hilda said.
“I don’t understand,” Agnes whined.
Hilda narrowed her eyes. “It’s time you learn just how much power words truly have. Perhaps then, you will learn to take care with the way you use them.”
Hilda made a series of gestures with her hands as she muttered something under her breath. Before Agnes could say anything, she felt herself grow warm from the inside out. The hair on the back of her neck stood on end and her entire body tingled. Hilda grinned, her eyes glittering with a malicious light.
“Be careful with your words, Gertie Gabblepot,” she purred. “Or you will reap the whirlwind. I promise you that.”
Hilda made another gesture then disappeared in a large cloud of smoke that startled Agnes. She quickly closed the door and retreated to her desk, stuffing Cheetos into her mouth as she tried to understand what had just happened.
* * * * *
Agnes walked down the street with a smile on her face and the sun shining down on her. She carried her bag of groceries—she had to replenish her supply of Cheetos after all. Old Mrs. Buttinski, Agnes’ old fifth grade teacher, stood in her yard raking leaves but paused to glare at Agnes as she walked by. The old bat had never liked her.
“Good afternoon, Mrs. Buttinski,” Agnes called and when the old woman said nothing but continued to glare, she smiled at her. “What’s the matter, cat got your tongue?”
The words had barely cleared her lips when her skin began to tingle and warm. Agnes watched in horror as a large black cat, sleek and powerful, leapt from a nearby tree and knocked old Mrs. Buttinski to the ground. The feline gripped the old woman’s tongue in its powerful jaws and tore it from her head, turning and sprinting down the street, the bloody and severed pink piece of meat flapping in the wind.
As Mrs. Buttinski opened her bloody mouth and tried to scream—though all that came out was a muffled noise that sounded like, nyuhhhhhnnn, nyuhhhhhnnnn, nyuhhhnnn—Agnes stood there watching in disbelief.
Thankfully, one of the neighbors who’d seen the attack had the presence of mind to call an ambulance.
* * * * *
A couple of days later, Agnes walked around town, listening to people still talking about her piece on Pastor Praymore, with a smile on her face. More people were talking about the pastor’s indiscretions than what had happened to poor old Mrs. Buttinski.
It was sad, of course, but it was good news for Agnes. Traffic to her website was through the roof. The hit counter was spinning like a slot machine, and all Agnes could hear was the ding-ding-ding of cash rolling in. Feeling good about herself, she greeted people warmly, offering them a wave and a smile. Thunder rumbled in the distance and Agnes looked up, watching the dark clouds rolling in.
“Looks like it’s going to rain today,” said Fanny Fiddlesticks as she walked by.
Agnes nodded sagely. “Looks like it’s going to start raining cats and dogs any minute.”
Almost immediately, Agnes’ skin grew warm and began to tingle. The thick blanket of dark clouds rolled in faster, and a hard crash of thunder split the sky overhead. No sooner than the roar of the thunder had faded though, when the sound of barking and meowing shook the air around her. Agnes looked up, her eyes growing wide as her mouth fell open.
“What the heck?”
Dogs and cats, all sizes, breeds, and colors began raining down. They hit the pavement with a wet thud but immediately bounced up and ran off. A flash flood of yowling and howling fur rained down, sweeping through the streets of town like a tsunami sending people running in all directions, screaming for their lives.
Agnes yelped as a Great Dane hit the pavement in front of her. A moment later, it bounded to its tall, lean legs and powered forward, knocking her to the ground as it ran, joining the rest of the furry flood that washed through their little hamlet.
“What is going on around here?!” Agnes shouted.
* * * * *
Several days after the Great Furry Flood, things slowly returned to normal. Most of the animals had found good forever homes and peace had once again returned to the streets. Agnes had published a piece about a pair of schoolteachers having some extracurricular activities earlier that day, but she didn’t get the serotonin rush she usually did. She just felt off. She felt a little… empty.
New bags of Cheetos in tow, Agnes waddled down the street, new ideas for stories already floating through her head. Nothing was really popping for her though. Agnes just needed a really juicy story to sink her teeth into. That would get her back on track and get her feeling right again. Convinced that’s all it was, she nodded to herself.
Little Penny Poohbutt walked by and gave her a nod. “Greetings and salutations, Ms. Amplebottom. Pleasure to see you this afternoon.”
“And you too, Penny,” Agnes replied and shook her head with a grin. “You are just a little walking dictionary, aren’t you?”
A sharp pop rang in Agnes’ ears as Penny Poohbutt transformed from a little girl with braces and brown pigtails into an actual dictionary with arms and legs. If Penny noticed, she gave in indication though, as she continued on down the street without missing a beat. Agnes gaped at the girl as she walked away.
“You. Agnes.”
She turned to see Tommy Tuffnut, town bully, and all-around jerk, standing behind her. His face was red, and he puffed himself up, using his five feet and eight inches for all they were worth.
“What is it, Tommy?”
“Your dog doodied on my lawn again.”
“Tommy, how many times do I have to tell you that I don’t have a dog? It was probably one of the dogs that fell from the sky the other day.”
He glared at her. “Just clean up after your mutt, all right? Clean up after your dog or else!”
She shook her head. “You’re so full of hot air.”
Tommy’s eyes grew wide as he puffed up, turning into a giant, round balloon with arms and legs. He screamed as he floated into the sky. Agnes gaped at him as she watched him drift off. The last anybody saw of Tommy Tuffnut was when he sailed over the distant mountain range.
“What is going on?”
* * * * *
Agnes stared at her computer. Stared at the banner of the Grapevine, her vision blurred with tears. Her stomach turned over on itself and she felt a growing sense of loss. After several more incidents over the past few days—she really didn’t mean that old Mr. Malarkey’s heart was truly made of stone, or that Jennie Jinglepot was really a fox—Agnes realized the problem was her.
Agnes thought back to her interaction with Hilda Hexenhoot and finally understood what she meant about words having power. And that she had used that power to harm, rather than to build. Her gossip had sowed the seeds of sadness and discord around town. Her words had come close to destroying the town and the people in it.
She hadn’t been able to eat or sleep in days as she contemplated her decision. In the end, she knew it was the only thing left for her to do. But it was breaking her heart to do it. She’d spent the last couple of years building the Grapevine up and now… and now, she was being forced to rip it out, root, stem, and all.
Deep down though, she knew it was the right thing to do. More, it was the only way she could see to lift Hilda’s curse. Words had power and she needed to start using hers for the good rather than to spread malicious gossip.
With a trembling hand, she reached out and moved the cursor to the “Delete Page” button. A tear raced down her cheek and for a moment, she seemed frozen. Unable to move. But Agnes gritted her teeth and clicked the button and the instant she did, she felt her skin tingling again. This time though, it felt different. But she watched through a haze of tears as the Gargleford Grapevine disappeared forever.
* * * * *
Several days later, Agnes was out to dinner with a friend. She was chatting excitedly about her new project—a help and advice column. Her appetite had returned, and she felt better about things. And about herself. The waiter came by and dropped off a menu. Agnes picked it up and smiled as her stomach rumbled.
“Forgive the crudity, but as I heard somebody say once, I’m so hungry, I could eat the ass end out of a rhino,” she said with a giggle.
Agnes’ eyes immediately widened and her mouth fell open as her skin grew uncomfortably warm and began to tingle.
“Oh no…”
Agnes took off her glasses and set them on her desk as she sat back in her chair and smiled to herself. This was her best article yet. The secret she’d exposed regarding old Pastor Praymore—writing under her pseudonym, of course—had been just too juicy to pass up and was sure to get the town talking. And she would just sit back and enjoy the chaos that ensued.
As the sole proprietor of the Gargleford Grapevine, the town’s premier gossip website, Agnes took pride in her work, although nobody knew it was her work. She often walked around town and listened to everybody. Not only did she get her juiciest bits of goss by simply being a fly on the wall, she also got to hear what others thought of her work.
Most derided the Grapevine as tabloid trash. Others said it was exploitative. Still others said it was cruel and the work of a bully who had nothing better to do with their time than sit around stuffing their faces with Cheetos while spreading malicious lies.
Agnes quite enjoyed Cheetos but she did not spread lies. Although people spent a lot of time saying a lot of really mean things about her work, Agnes’ biggest takeaway was that they were, in fact, reading her work. People posed and postured like her work offended them, but the skyrocketing traffic to her website proved they liked it.
A knock at the door got Agnes out of her chair. She popped another Cheeto into her mouth and with a grin on her orange dust stained lips, waddled to the door. A dark-haired woman with cold, piercing blue eyes stood on the porch staring at her though the screen. She had a pleasant face and a sweet smile, but something about the woman gave her an attack of goosebumps.
“Y—yes?” Agnes asked.
“Good afternoon, Agnes. I’m Hilda Hexenhoot,” she said, her voice high and melodic. “Or should I call you, Gertie Gabblepot?”
Agnes’ blood ran cold as she gaped at the woman. Nobody knew her pseudonym. Nobody. She cleared her throat and put on a pleasant smile she hoped looked more real than it felt.
“I’m sorry… who? are you?” Agnes asked.
“Hilda Hexenhoot,” she replied. “I’m here to tell you something important.”
Agnes swallowed hard and cleared her throat. “I—I’m not sure who you think I am, but—”
Hilda arched an eyebrow at her as a grin quirked the corner of her mouth upward. “Your website does quite a bit of business,” she says. “You make quite a living using your words.”
“I—I’m still not sure what you mean.”
“Words have power, Gertie Gabblepot. Words have great power. And you are using yours to destroy, rather than create beauty in this world,” Hilda said.
“I don’t understand,” Agnes whined.
Hilda narrowed her eyes. “It’s time you learn just how much power words truly have. Perhaps then, you will learn to take care with the way you use them.”
Hilda made a series of gestures with her hands as she muttered something under her breath. Before Agnes could say anything, she felt herself grow warm from the inside out. The hair on the back of her neck stood on end and her entire body tingled. Hilda grinned, her eyes glittering with a malicious light.
“Be careful with your words, Gertie Gabblepot,” she purred. “Or you will reap the whirlwind. I promise you that.”
Hilda made another gesture then disappeared in a large cloud of smoke that startled Agnes. She quickly closed the door and retreated to her desk, stuffing Cheetos into her mouth as she tried to understand what had just happened.
Agnes walked down the street with a smile on her face and the sun shining down on her. She carried her bag of groceries—she had to replenish her supply of Cheetos after all. Old Mrs. Buttinski, Agnes’ old fifth grade teacher, stood in her yard raking leaves but paused to glare at Agnes as she walked by. The old bat had never liked her.
“Good afternoon, Mrs. Buttinski,” Agnes called and when the old woman said nothing but continued to glare, she smiled at her. “What’s the matter, cat got your tongue?”
The words had barely cleared her lips when her skin began to tingle and warm. Agnes watched in horror as a large black cat, sleek and powerful, leapt from a nearby tree and knocked old Mrs. Buttinski to the ground. The feline gripped the old woman’s tongue in its powerful jaws and tore it from her head, turning and sprinting down the street, the bloody and severed pink piece of meat flapping in the wind.
As Mrs. Buttinski opened her bloody mouth and tried to scream—though all that came out was a muffled noise that sounded like, nyuhhhhhnnn, nyuhhhhhnnnn, nyuhhhnnn—Agnes stood there watching in disbelief.
Thankfully, one of the neighbors who’d seen the attack had the presence of mind to call an ambulance.
A couple of days later, Agnes walked around town, listening to people still talking about her piece on Pastor Praymore, with a smile on her face. More people were talking about the pastor’s indiscretions than what had happened to poor old Mrs. Buttinski.
It was sad, of course, but it was good news for Agnes. Traffic to her website was through the roof. The hit counter was spinning like a slot machine, and all Agnes could hear was the ding-ding-ding of cash rolling in. Feeling good about herself, she greeted people warmly, offering them a wave and a smile. Thunder rumbled in the distance and Agnes looked up, watching the dark clouds rolling in.
“Looks like it’s going to rain today,” said Fanny Fiddlesticks as she walked by.
Agnes nodded sagely. “Looks like it’s going to start raining cats and dogs any minute.”
Almost immediately, Agnes’ skin grew warm and began to tingle. The thick blanket of dark clouds rolled in faster, and a hard crash of thunder split the sky overhead. No sooner than the roar of the thunder had faded though, when the sound of barking and meowing shook the air around her. Agnes looked up, her eyes growing wide as her mouth fell open.
“What the heck?”
Dogs and cats, all sizes, breeds, and colors began raining down. They hit the pavement with a wet thud but immediately bounced up and ran off. A flash flood of yowling and howling fur rained down, sweeping through the streets of town like a tsunami sending people running in all directions, screaming for their lives.
Agnes yelped as a Great Dane hit the pavement in front of her. A moment later, it bounded to its tall, lean legs and powered forward, knocking her to the ground as it ran, joining the rest of the furry flood that washed through their little hamlet.
“What is going on around here?!” Agnes shouted.
Several days after the Great Furry Flood, things slowly returned to normal. Most of the animals had found good forever homes and peace had once again returned to the streets. Agnes had published a piece about a pair of schoolteachers having some extracurricular activities earlier that day, but she didn’t get the serotonin rush she usually did. She just felt off. She felt a little… empty.
New bags of Cheetos in tow, Agnes waddled down the street, new ideas for stories already floating through her head. Nothing was really popping for her though. Agnes just needed a really juicy story to sink her teeth into. That would get her back on track and get her feeling right again. Convinced that’s all it was, she nodded to herself.
Little Penny Poohbutt walked by and gave her a nod. “Greetings and salutations, Ms. Amplebottom. Pleasure to see you this afternoon.”
“And you too, Penny,” Agnes replied and shook her head with a grin. “You are just a little walking dictionary, aren’t you?”
A sharp pop rang in Agnes’ ears as Penny Poohbutt transformed from a little girl with braces and brown pigtails into an actual dictionary with arms and legs. If Penny noticed, she gave in indication though, as she continued on down the street without missing a beat. Agnes gaped at the girl as she walked away.
“You. Agnes.”
She turned to see Tommy Tuffnut, town bully, and all-around jerk, standing behind her. His face was red, and he puffed himself up, using his five feet and eight inches for all they were worth.
“What is it, Tommy?”
“Your dog doodied on my lawn again.”
“Tommy, how many times do I have to tell you that I don’t have a dog? It was probably one of the dogs that fell from the sky the other day.”
He glared at her. “Just clean up after your mutt, all right? Clean up after your dog or else!”
She shook her head. “You’re so full of hot air.”
Tommy’s eyes grew wide as he puffed up, turning into a giant, round balloon with arms and legs. He screamed as he floated into the sky. Agnes gaped at him as she watched him drift off. The last anybody saw of Tommy Tuffnut was when he sailed over the distant mountain range.
“What is going on?”
Agnes stared at her computer. Stared at the banner of the Grapevine, her vision blurred with tears. Her stomach turned over on itself and she felt a growing sense of loss. After several more incidents over the past few days—she really didn’t mean that old Mr. Malarkey’s heart was truly made of stone, or that Jennie Jinglepot was really a fox—Agnes realized the problem was her.
Agnes thought back to her interaction with Hilda Hexenhoot and finally understood what she meant about words having power. And that she had used that power to harm, rather than to build. Her gossip had sowed the seeds of sadness and discord around town. Her words had come close to destroying the town and the people in it.
She hadn’t been able to eat or sleep in days as she contemplated her decision. In the end, she knew it was the only thing left for her to do. But it was breaking her heart to do it. She’d spent the last couple of years building the Grapevine up and now… and now, she was being forced to rip it out, root, stem, and all.
Deep down though, she knew it was the right thing to do. More, it was the only way she could see to lift Hilda’s curse. Words had power and she needed to start using hers for the good rather than to spread malicious gossip.
With a trembling hand, she reached out and moved the cursor to the “Delete Page” button. A tear raced down her cheek and for a moment, she seemed frozen. Unable to move. But Agnes gritted her teeth and clicked the button and the instant she did, she felt her skin tingling again. This time though, it felt different. But she watched through a haze of tears as the Gargleford Grapevine disappeared forever.
Several days later, Agnes was out to dinner with a friend. She was chatting excitedly about her new project—a help and advice column. Her appetite had returned, and she felt better about things. And about herself. The waiter came by and dropped off a menu. Agnes picked it up and smiled as her stomach rumbled.
“Forgive the crudity, but as I heard somebody say once, I’m so hungry, I could eat the ass end out of a rhino,” she said with a giggle.
Agnes’ eyes immediately widened and her mouth fell open as her skin grew uncomfortably warm and began to tingle.
“Oh no…”
no subject
on 2025-07-21 02:38 am (UTC)Dan
no subject
on 2025-07-22 09:12 pm (UTC)Thank you!
no subject
on 2025-07-21 04:53 am (UTC)no subject
on 2025-07-22 09:13 pm (UTC)no subject
on 2025-07-21 07:43 pm (UTC)His favorite part was all the wonderful names, he thought this was a delightful romp well worthy of a vote.
It's the cat's pajamas...
Damn it someone get these pajamas off me!!!
no subject
on 2025-07-22 09:13 pm (UTC)no subject
on 2025-07-21 09:55 pm (UTC)no subject
on 2025-07-22 09:13 pm (UTC)Thanks so much for giving me a read!
no subject
on 2025-07-22 01:17 am (UTC)Great job!!
no subject
on 2025-07-22 09:14 pm (UTC)no subject
on 2025-07-22 10:40 pm (UTC)no subject
on 2025-07-22 11:26 pm (UTC)no subject
on 2025-07-23 01:34 am (UTC)I liked the fairytale feeling to this (an excellent cursing on Hilda's part). And most of all, I loved the names. Alliteration and snark all in one. How glorious to discover that Agnes' last name was Amplebottom. :D
no subject
on 2025-07-23 01:07 pm (UTC)no subject
on 2025-07-23 05:47 pm (UTC)no subject
on 2025-07-23 08:27 pm (UTC)