Seasonal Prompt Summer 2024- Y'all Means All

Y'all Means All

Cavalli - 5367

901 words

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Cavalli picked his way through the city he called home. Others stayed away from his part of the city, claiming that it was haunted. When he was younger, he’d found that silly. He'd never seen any spirits or anything like that. It wasn't until he was older that he realized the stories were about him. He liked to think that it suited him fine. Most days it did. Well, maybe not most. Some. A few. Okay, it didn't suit him at all, but there wasn't anything to be done about it, so he dealt with it.

He heaved a sigh, poking his nose into a doorway at random, counting on the armor that decorated his snout and eyes to protect him from harm. He opened his eyes inside, blinking and then withdrew. Nothing of worth and no way in.

Even though he’d grown up here, the city was still strange to him, and grew stranger with each passing season. The plants and weather were crumbling those spires that some called buildings, leaving jagged shells that looked as if something much bigger than him had taken a bite out of them.

He couldn't imagine why creatures so small--he’d found the occasional strangely rounded skull tucked away in a corner--needed them, or why they were so tall. Had they lived here, like he did? How many had there been to need so much space? How had they managed to build things of stone that were so much taller than them? Were they like the little ants he'd seen, dragging crumbs of food larger than they were? They must have been.

He looked up at one of the buildings that had fallen in recently. He remembered the storm that had finally caved it in. He had been heading here on purpose. He hadn't been able to get into it before, he was too big. He'd seen inside occasionally, through those clear holes in the side, but not been able to break through. 

The inside was brightly decorated, albeit grimy now, with long lengths of multicolored cloth hanging from the walls and ceiling. Dust coated everything from where the side had fallen in, and several of the lengths of cloth were buried or else so grimy that their original colors were hidden. He'd seen other dinosaurs in the area with those bits of cloth. Some said that they had heard from another dinosaur, who’d heard it from another, who’d heard it from their grandsire, that the tiny creatures had used those bright colors to indicate their interest and preferences in mates or lack of interest entirely.

He shouldered his way into the building, moving some of the rubble to make it easier for him to get out. He'd had his eye on one particular piece since he'd found the building. It was a huge banner, marked in every color he could think of. It hadn't been damaged badly and still hung on the wall where it had been. 

He'd seen a pair of males with a similar piece of cloth and supposed that meant that it indicated a preference for males. He had always gotten along with males better, the few that had looked past the rumors. None of them had stayed, but maybe if he placed one of these banners up in his den, someone might. 

He craned his neck up to gently grab the banner without tearing it too badly. There was still the coarse sound of fabric ripping but it seemed like it was only the end. That should be fine. He tossed the length over his back and repeated for the other side. Then, he wrapped the length around his neck so he could carry his prize away. It was mostly intact, a feat he was proud of.

Unlike the meandering path he'd taken that morning to get here, Cavalli headed straight back home. Some dinosaurs called this place a maze and it only increased the rumors of it being haunted, but he'd grown up here. He knew better. His home was on the outskirts, near the sea. It was the only place big enough for him to live. He touched the length of cloth around his neck, reassuring himself it was still there. He needed it. As he reached the building he called home, he stopped and shook the dust from his feathers. He liked to keep his home clean, and for that, he had to be clean. 

The piece of cloth thankfully stayed around his neck through his preening and grooming. When he was satisfied with his cleanliness, he ducked into his home. It was, predictably, exactly as he'd left it. No one ventured out here. He sighed as he gently unwrapped the banner from his neck, looking around for a place to hang it. He hoped this worked. It had to work.

He finally found a spot, draping it gently in front of the window that bathed his nest in sunlight in the evenings. He plucked at it, working until it seemed like it was in the other building and stepped back, admiring his work. His crest fell as he looked around the empty den. He needed more. That one banner seemed so out of place in the huge empty building. He sighed and headed back out, wondering how many trips it would take to make his home look more inviting and to make him seem less terrifying.