Floating Ink by James Livingood

CHAPTER ONE
    Invasion
    Ruth was the queen of rats and the
trendsetter of black soot stains. Most of her days were spent
entertaining her cockroach subjects with tales of her valor. They
were a captive audience, held in a shoe box with holes. When the
queen desired a boo and a hiss, she would shake the box. When she
told the best part of a story, the food, she would share a morsel.
All who gazed at her natural beauty fell in love. Perhaps that’s
why so few people saw her, honestly. Who could risk such a
life-long fate?
    Her kingdom was not 50 paces from one of the
biggest mansions in town. Steam pipes sputtered hot moisture in the
custom built sauna. A decorative river ran through the sauna. She
had set rules that the river could not be used for cleaning, after
all, it was decorative only. Those who honored Ruth would often
leave presents for her in the decorative river. These gifts of
homage floated down gently waiting for her to notice and discover.
She had plucked out gifts of worn shoes, frayed belts, chipped
cups, stained plates, and more.
    She sat on a stone bench near the sauna room.
By royal decree, this place was called the Queen’s museum. Small
shelves made of bricks popped out from various sides. These shelves
held antiquities and gifts of homage she had received throughout
town.
    A black button from a gentleman caller was
gracefully set on one brick. A spool of silken thread, disguised as
wool, was put in a place of high honor. Her royal cardboard court
of cockroaches was often found here. Ruth had spent much of her 25
years of life looking for such a keen collection. When she had
found this storage location, she knew she had found home.
    Today was not a day to celebrate such a
magnificent, bejeweled level of sophistication. Today the queen had
appointments and appearances she must make. A local band had
requested the pleasure of her company by posting a sign near her
royal residence. It would be a celebration in the park once she
arrived. The pleasure of her company did not come without cost. The
promise of free picnic food would be her due compensation for an
afternoon well spent. If the music pleased her, perhaps she would
be inclined to reschedule a few other appointments. Nothing could
be guaranteed, though. After all, she was a queen.
    ——————
    Ruth walked among the people enjoying the
music in the park. Women wore elegant hats adorned with peacock
feathers and lace ribbons. The men mostly had slicked back hair and
fanciful facial hair. One gentleman had a goatee, another a slick
mustache curled into two points. She turned to the center of the
park and the music playing there. On either side of the stage were
upside down top hats, filled with coins and dollars. She
contemplated grabbing one of the top hats for fashion reasons, but
decided against it. Ruth turned back to her task of digging through
trash cans, looking for half-eaten sandwiches and other “too-soon”
discards. People were so wasteful in her eyes. Most weren’t even
appreciating the musical talent presented on stage. She decided to
separate herself from the crowd and learn about the music. Ruth
wanted to understand the song in a way that others could not.
    She sat down against a tree and took in the
band. She could see they were playing a long melody that kept going
in circles. Ruth admired the talent and wanted to see if one day
she could play such a song. She watched the artist's hands and how
they plucked the guitar strings. Ruth could also tell that the
chorus was particularly tricky as the man stuck out his tongue a
little while trying to play. How many people had noticed the man’s
tongue? The sour note strummed was the first indication something
was wrong. The guitar player stopped playing, which caused the
other members of the band to slow down their pace. The melody
slowly washed away on the painted wood stage, through the cracks,
and onto the grass of the park.
    As the members of the band stretched their
necks to the