An Atticus Ramble on Creating
“I love creating things,” Atticus said aloud. Maybe to herself, maybe to the scattered skeletons, it was impossible to tell over the chaotic sounds of battle.
“Drawing, writing, I love it all.” With a snap, the skull fit into place and the villain admired her handiwork. The monster, now complete, arose and cocked its head at the villain, nodded at some silent command, and joined the battle against an invading troop of adventurers.
“Friends tease me,” Atticus whispered to a long bone in her hand, turning it this way and that, studying it. She smiled. “Which Atticus is it today? The poem-filled gust of wind? The salty researcher off into the field?” She fit the bone into yet another creature, a horror of claws and teeth, and sent it into battle a few minutes later. “The oddly chromatic ghost about town, seeking thieving rabbits?”
She chuckled to himself, “to be fair, those are the most sinister rabbits you’ll ever see.”
“The best part of creation,” the shapeshifting villain mused, sitting back and watching her minions destroy her adversaries, “is the lack of permission needed. Just make a thing and see where it goes. Improve on future versions or shift directions entirely.” Idly, she wondered if she could get home in time for brunch.