Petunia and the Little Monster

November, 1971

It took a surprisingly long time for her mother to finally notice that some meat was always disappearing from her pantry.

"Petunia, were you the one who took the cured ham?"

Petunia nodded and her mother sighed. "It was expensive. Did you eat all of it?"

"No."

Her mother's gaze sharpened. "No? What happened to it then?"

Petunia thought quickly. "I'm feeding a stray cat."

"A cat?" Mrs Evans massaged her forehead. "In the future, just ask Butcher Emery if he has any leftover meat scraps he can't sell, he's your father's friend and might give you some. Don't use the things I buy for our family."

Petunia nodded obediently and quickly left the kitchen before her mother could think to punish her with chores. Passing through the garden, she entered the wind-blown shack, leaving the door slightly ajar so the little monster wasn't locked in.

Today, Petunia would decide on a name. She wanted to be careful and choose something special and pretty.

She detested her own name. Going with a flower was a nice idea, but why did her parents have to choose 'Petunia' out of all of them? Why not Rose or Cassia or Violet or Daisy? Why did they reserve the name 'Lily' for their second child? Didn't Petunia deserve a nice name, too?

Determined not to repeat her parent's mistake, she focused on the little monster, which was currently pawing its blanket nest. She had given this matter quite a lot of thought.

"If I'm a flower, do you want to be a tree?" Petunia asked. "How about Cedar? Or Birch? Fir?"

The little monster shook its stringy tail, nosing the nest. It might be waiting for its usual treats, not knowing that her mother had finally caught on to Petunia's plundering.

"No? Then maybe ... Aspen?"

The little monster lifted its head and stepped closer. Petunia smiled and carefully patted its thin neck. Touching the little monster still felt weird, almost as if someone had stretched thin, cold rubber over a skeleton she could feel beneath her fingers. "Aspen it is."

Leaning into her touch, the little monster folded its legs, lying down next to her. Petunia took her maths book from her backpack and started revising, scratching Aspen's stringy mane in between flipping pages. "I wonder what they're learning at that fancy magic school. I doubt Lily will be as good in maths as I am. Every course is probably something about witchery and broomsticks."

Aspen lipped a corner of her book but apparently didn't find it to his taste.

Remembering a certain shop in the magical street before she had met Eugene, Petunia shook her head in distaste. "Can you believe those actually exist? Broomsticks, I mean. It looks so impractical - though flying sounds ... not that I will ever experience it." Not wanting to think about it, Petunia focused back on Aspen: "Eugene mentioned that these skin-flaps are your wings, so shouldn't you be able to fly? Why have I never seen you take off?"

Carefully stroking along Aspen's spine, she touched one of the wings. It felt leathery and light. "I don't see any injuries, but I also don't know what to look for."

Aspen reluctantly extended one wing for her inspection, allowing her to touch it. It looked like it could belong to a bat, a thin membrane stretched across long, finger-like bones.

"They seem quite thin and fragile. But you're not that heavy either."

Aspen lazily flapped his wing in agreement.

"Should I tell him about your new name?" Saying it out loud, Petunia paused. Why did she need to think about something so mundane? Either she told Eugene or she wouldn't, it didn't matter really. She wouldn't invest her emotions and start second-guessing every small thing.

"It doesn't matter," she told Aspen, but maybe the words were actually meant for herself.

Over the last few weeks she had built a steady correspondence with Eugene, receiving a letter roughly every three to five days. She was always forced to answer immediately because Krampus - Eugene's great horned owl - never wanted to stick around for long, no matter how many treats she gave him. She would actually love to have an owl of her own, maybe a more sensible-sized one, but it was probably something only wizards were allowed to have.

Maybe I should ask Eugene if it is possible to get one.

Catching herself, Petunia frowned. It was almost as if she was starting to rely on him, which wasn't good. She didn't need his help now, she could take care of Aspen just fine. Casually writing to him was alright, but coming to depend on him was not.

A small nip on her finger made her refocus on Aspen. Carefully she petted his long snout, avoiding the sharp teeth. "Are you hungry? Let me visit the butcher, he might have something for you."

Exiting the shed, she tried to leave her worries behind as well. If the next letter never came, she would be fine. She didn't care about Eugene, so there was no hurt or disappointment waiting for her.

But in the back of her mind she feared that she was lying to herself.

❀

Hey Petals,

Aspen is a nice name, but why not go with something more fierce? If you talk to air and address it as 'Arcas the Murderous' I'm sure it would leave a deeper impression. Crazy, but scary crazy, not cat-lady crazy.

You spoil Krampus too much, he won't deliver my letters now unless I share some of my friend's breakfast with him.

Gene

❀

Eugene,

My intent while naming him was not to impress others. His name fits with mine.

Why aren't you sharing your own food? And Krampus is quite hard-working, it is only right to reward him.

Petunia

❀

Hey Petals,

If you wanted to go with something wood themed, I would suggest 'Blood-soaked Mahogany', it has a nice and classy ring to it. Somehow very picturesque.

What else are friends for? And he better work hard, otherwise he will get fat at this rate,

Gene

Reading Eugene's latest letter, Petunia shook her head in exasperation, but didn't notice the small smile hiding in the corner of her mouth.

❀