Patchwork People

Pinpin held a firm grip on her net as she snuck up on her prey. In front of her, blissfully unaware, the Yarn Beetle rolled up its ball of string along the ground. She hid within the bushes, moving stealthily like a predator as she inched ever closer toward her unaware victim. It was almost within her grasp.

“The hunter locates her prey” she whispered, picturing herself as an intrepid explorer, stalking a legendary beast. She laid low, body almost level with the string growing from the cotton-filled ground. Precision was key. Act too quickly, and the Yarn Beetle will flee high into the sky, where neither she nor her net could reach. Move too slow, however, and it would escape back into the burrow. It was all about waiting for the right moment.

Pinpin felt the stuffing within her tighten as she readied herself. She had to stay hidden; her red and white striped limbs stood out like a sore thumbtack against the green undergrowth within the plains. If she could keep still within the bush, then the bug would never suspect a thing.The Yarn Beetle paused for a moment to look around, antennae twitching as it felt the wind. This was it. In this moment of distraction, now was the chance to snag her prize and claim what she had come for. Pinpin readied herself, hands firmly grasped around her net in anticipation. She performed a countdown inside her head. One, two….

A net swooped down out of nowhere in a mighty thwack. In one swift motion, it dragged itself away, taking with it Pinpin’s lost prize. Pinpin cried out in frustration, and stumbled out from the bushes. A thief! It was code of honour among bug catchers to leave prey alone. Who would dare break this rule? She looked at the net, making her way up the pole, glancing at the familiar burlap hands that held the net loosely. She continued to rise, staring angrily at the patchwork culprit who had beaten her to the punch and claimed her prize for himself.

“Score! That’s one for me.” the thief gleamed, showing a grin with teeth so large they barely fit within his mouth, causing it to stretch the seams. Green scraggly hair fell down his face, with several small pins stuck within like a cushion. As he lifted up the net to examine his prize, his free hand attempted to pull up his shorts, only to have them fall back down swifty after, held only by the suspenders around his shoulders.

Of course it was him.

“Tatterbat!” Pinpin shouted with a pout. “I was hunting that one for hours!”

Tatterbat shrugged, swinging the net over his shoulders. “You snooze you lose. Looks like you’ve got a long way to go until you beat the master.” He gave a sly wink and pointed his thumb at himself..

“Hmph.” Pinpin crossed her arms and looked defiantly away. He was teasing her. “Well I don’t need it anyway. That bug was only a runt, and I’m already much further ahead than you in the rankings.”

“Oh yeah? How many are you on?” Tatterbat replied whimsically, grin glued to his face.

“Better prepare, because I’m up to ten.”

Pinpin hoped that would invoke a worried reaction, but Tatterbat simply stroked his chin. “Well then, you better get hunting, because this little critter just put me in the lead.”

“What?!” Pinpin exclaimed, throwing her arms down and leaning forward. The burlap material of her face turned red, matching the circular patches sewn onto her cheeks. “There’s no way. I was winning last time I checked.”

“The Bug Master holds many secrets and surprises.”

“You stole some from me, didn’t you?”

“Pinpin!” Tatterbat threw out an exaggerated gasp. “I would never stoop so low as to commit such a crime.”

“I don’t trust you. I want to check anyway.” Pinpin threw a playful scowl. “Besides, I need a rest from that exhausting hunt. Crouching for that long really works at your seams.”

“Fine by me. I should give this little buggie a home.” Tatterbat replied, the grin staying plastered to his face as he held the insect up to Pinpin’s face. She swiped at him with a soft growl in response, with Tatterbat moving the bug out of the way just before she could snatch it.

The two started to pick up their things. Pinpin grabbed her trusty net and bucket, while Tatterbat stuck his net behind his back and shoved the Yarn Beetle within his trouser pocket. Hoisting up his trousers, Tatterbat started to head out through the undergrowth, Pinpin following close behind. They made their way through various cotton buds and felt-tip flowers, being careful to not step on anything. Not because they wanted to preserve nature, but because one sharp needle meant a rip in their stitching, and the stuffing inside would be pouring out. The nearest sewing kit was back at their secret hut, so if an accident happened, they’d have a long way to travel. Tatterbat had already lost an arm this way in the past, and while he claimed it wasn’t painful, his complaining at having to carry bits of himself home was a good enough warning for Pinpin to be more cautious.

As they stepped past the last set of bushes, the wide, expansive landscape of Patchwork Plains opened up around them. The area always reminded Pinpin of her bed at home, with a large knitted blanket thrown over the top. The string that grew from the ground, when viewed from a distance, almost perfectly resembled large patches that were clumsily sewn into the earth. Cottonbushes and needlethorns outlined the various areas, alongside wooden fences and pathways, giving the area an orderly, segmented feel. Even the clouds looked like stuffing, though Pinpin was much too small to see if that was the case for real.

“Ah, here we are.” Tatterbat said, snapping Pinpin from her trance. She’d been so enthralled by the view that she hadn’t even noticed that they’d already reached their hideaway. They came up towards a small, worn down hut that sat near the edge of the undergrowth, vines climbing the walls on all sides. Despite the rather threatening appearance, however, Pinpin confidently marched over and opened the door, which reacted with a loud CREAK. A wave of dust flew out, and as the light shone in through broken windows and cracks in the ceiling, the inside revealed itself. The room was split in two, each side littered with various cages filled with all sorts of bugs and creepy-crawlies. Dusty toolboxes from the huts previous owner lay unused on shelves too high to reach, and at the back, a scoreboard hung lopsided and free of dust, making it seem unnatural compared to the rest of the hut.

Tatterbat came in after her, made his way to an empty bug hutch in the corner, where he proudly dropped in his latest prize.

“See that.” he said, with an exaggerated gesture. “That puts me on eleven today.”

Pinpin took her time to count each side, pointing at every bug with her mitten-like hand to make sure she didn’t miss any by mistake.

“...nine, ten, eleven….” she gave a defeated sigh at the result. “Looks like you were right.”

“Yes!” Tatterbat gave a cheery jump, and ran over to the scoreboard. Grabbing the chalk, he excitedly added another tally mark to his side.

“I’m catching up to you now.” he reported. “If I keep winning like this we’ll be on equal wins by next week.”

Pinpin looked at the board and gave a cheeky smile. “Don’t count your stitches just yet. You’ve got a way to go, oh ‘Bug Master’.”

“So you admit that I’m a master at long last.”

“At least that makes two of us now. About time you caught up.”

They stared each other down for a brief period. Pinpin folded her arms and smirked, and Tatterbat copied her stance. They remained like this for a while longer, until Pinpin could no longer hold herself. Her smirk evolved into a hearty grin and she burst out laughing, starting a chain reaction that caused Tatterbat to follow suit. The two were quickly howling with laughter, filling the hut with noise and disturbing all the bugs they’d captured so far. When they calmed down, they quickly tidied away their things and left the hut to sit outside, heading to their normal space to watch the sun begin to go down behind the sky. With them, they bought a few snacks, just to enjoy themselves with as the time ticked away.

“Man, the Rugtorn Cliffs always look so cool.” said Tatterbat from behind as they walked to their spot. He was looking at a series of perilous overhangs, far off in the distance. They formed a tunnel over a canyon, and thick ropes hung loosely of the sides like a torn rug, which is where it got the name. Squinting, Pinpin could almost see the ropes swaying in the breeze, hypnotically swinging left and right. As the sun fell behind the horizon, the cliffs formed a black silhouette, with its shadow spreading far across the plains.

“Better not look too long, buddy.” Pinpin replied, shaking her head and looking somewhere else. “You know we aren’t supposed to go over there.”

“I know, I know… I just love the look.”

Pinpin gave a guilty smile. Though she’d never admit it, she too longed to visit the Rugtorn Cliffs, if anything for the rumours of rare and exciting creatures, especially insects. Tales of huge ropepods and terrifying soc-socs. Stories of sharp nailflies and crowrags that hid in the cracks of the cliffside. The sheer amount of predatory animals had led her village to issue a block on the place, discouraging travel to and through the area to prevent any accidents.

But despite all the danger, Pinpin still had the burning curiosity to go. Not to see the sights, nor to catch the bugs within, but due to it being the the sole route to reach the lair of the most elusive creature of all; the one that tantalized Pinpin with its very name - The Ragworm.

The Ragworm’s legends had been passed down to Pinpin, with many nighttime stories telling terrific tales of the sheer wonder of the creature. She never knew what it looked like, or just how big this bug was, but she knew its reputation, and many a bug catcher would spend their lives looking and failing to find it.

And hopefully, one day she’d find it too.

After some time, Pinpin stood up and gave a huge yawn, stretching her arms as far as she could. She patted her stomach, and turned to look at Tatterbat, who was now lying on the floor, arms behind his head, staring up at the sky.

“Well, it’s about hometime for me. Been a long day, and I wanna do some more light reading.”

“Yeah, me as well.” Tatterbat got up beside her. “I’m planning on just having a nice long nap when I get back.”

“Sounds good! Who knows, I might just do that as well.”

The two set off, walking down the path back toward their village. The path back to their home town was not met with much danger, as it was a common route for travelers in those parts of the Patchwork Plains, with only string fields and small fences to climb over. Pinpin walked boldly on as Tatterbat sauntered behind, kicking up small rocks as he shoved his hands in his pockets. As they reached the crossroads toward Litwood Bridge, they broke off the main path, sneaking their way underneath a locked gate to go through some private property. ‘A shortcut’, Tatterbat had called it, though Pinpin doubted it was actually shorter, and was just Tatterbat’s way of getting back at the farmer who’d chased him a few years before. By this point, a path had been worn down by their frequent visits, so their guard was let down much more than usual.

Right as they reached the river, Pinpin noticed a man sitting on the other side of their self-made bridge (a log) that spanned it. He sat cross legged, eating food in one hand while carrying a satchel in the other. A wide brimmed hat hid most of his face from view, and his body was equally shrouded by a ragged, stitched-up cloak.

She slowed down, unsure of whether to pass him or not. No-one had ever been caught on their bridge before, and this shadowy figure reeked of mystery. Keeping her eyes locked on, she leaned toward Tatterbat.

“Hey, you see that guy?” she whispered, trying to be as subtle as possible.

“Yeah. Never seen a patchwork person like him before.” Tatterbat replied, scratching his head. “Looks a bit creepy.”

“I know, right? He looks awfully lanky. How’d he find our little pathway?”

“Maybe he’s homeless.”

“I’m not sure… Let’s just be careful.”

The two of them crossed the bridge, which seemed to be a bit more wobbly than usual. Pinpin stuck out her arms to keep balanced, slowly making her way down to the solid ground at the end. As they reached the end and approached the man, the two carefully made their way to the opposite side of the pathway, walking single file in an attempt to be as far away as possible. Slowly they walked, limbs stiff with anxiety as they felt his gaze hit their backs. The man continued to sit there, eating slowly, barely paying them any notice. It was as if he was some sort of ghost. He didn’t say a word, nor move anything apart from his hand, and his eyes were covered by his hat so Pinpin couldn’t see where he was looking. When their backs were turned to him, Pinpin started to speed up. She wanted nothing more than to just be done with it all and head back home.

Pinpin felt a prickly stare on her neck. She turned her head around, and saw that the figure had finished his food, and was looking at the two of them. He seemed to notice her staring, as not long after Pinpin turned, he tipped his hat up and faced the two, letting the sun reveal his face.

“You two.” he spoke strongly, voice deep and gravelly. “Come here a second.”

Pinpin paused. Part of her wanted to run, and she saw Tatterbat feeling the same thing. She took a deep breath. Somehow, Pinpin could sense his impatience. Gripping her arm tightly, Pinpin turned around and held her posture, attempting to hide her shivering and at least seem somewhat composed. At least Tatterbat was here. Even if the both of them were scared stuffless, it felt a little better having someone else to relate to. Taking her eyes off the floor, Pinpin looked up at the man.

The man was tall and thin, with arms that were slightly too long, and made of carved wood. His head was comprised of a yarn ball, topped with long, straggly hair that fell from under his hat. Copious amounts of straw was stuffed under his jacket, with bits poking out the top of his cloak and under his sleeves. As he looked at her with eyes that seemed glued to his face, Pinpin realised. He wasn’t a patchwork person at all. He was a scarecrow.

“Don’t mind the features, lass, the years haven’t been kind.” he said with a crooked smile. Noticing her scared expression, he stuck out a wooden hand in her direction. “Name’s Yarnfell.”

“P-Pinpin” Pinpin stuttered. “And this is Tatterbat.” she glanced at the hand, but failed to grab it.

“Well, Pinpin and Tatterbat. I notice you’re carrying some fine nets with you. You wouldn’t happen to be bug catchers, would you?”

Pinpin felt a ball of string form in her throat. Scarecrows were known to be rough, and this felt like an interrogation. Was this one of the scarecrows who’s field they kept trespassing in? Were they in trouble? What was going to happen?

Pinpin did the only thing she felt she knew to do.

“We’re sorry!” Pinpin yelled, bowing repeatedly. The pressure was too much. Better to apologise now before things got rough. “We’ll go another way! We won’t walk in your field anymore! We won’t doodle on your face!”

“Huh? What are you sorry for, kid?” asked Yarnfell. “You been doing something wrong?”

“Wha?” was all she could muster. Pinpin turned red with embarrassment and held her breath. With all this stress, she found herself unable to speak. She glanced at Tatterbat, wishing him to take over.

“You got a problem with us being bug catchers?” Tatterbat asked, somewhat brashly for someone so scared just a few seconds before.

“Not at all! I’m just looking for someone to share my…” Yarnfell paused for a moment, tapping his chin “...interesting proposal.”

“Well then, we sure are bug catchers, sir.” Tatterbat exclaimed, placing his hands strongly on his hips. Pinpin could only look in surprise, mouth hanging by a loose thread. Was he that easily swayed? She may have known him for years, but that was a new outcome she wasn’t expecting.

“Excellent.” Yarnfell grinned. He held out both hands in front of the two. Instinctively, Pinpin flinched back, which earned her a small chuckle from the scarecrow. Both hands were empty.

“Sorry, lassie.” he spoke, more softly than before. “I ain’t the easiest to look at, but I don’t mean no trouble. Here.”

With a flick he waved them about each other, moving them around like some sort of dance. Pinpin blinked for a second, and when she did, the scarecrow was holding two pieces of paper.

“ These are for you, kids, if you’re interested.” he said, handing the paper slips over.

Cautiously, Pinpin took one of the slips. She half expected the scarecrow to yank her forward or do something nefarious, but he remained still, seeming eager for her to take the paper and read what was on it. Pinpin looked down. The paper slip seemed well crafted, with a shiny border and patterns around the edge. On the front, there were big red letters which read:

Yarnfell’s Catching Competition! Think you’re the best bug catcher in the Plains? Then come down to Patchwork Farm, and prove it! Snag yourself a quality insect, and you’ll win an even better prize. Only your imagination is bigger!

“A competition?” Pinpin asked.

“That’s right.” The scarecrow smiled. He stood up tall, letting the remaining sunlight illuminate his face. When not hunched over and in the dark, he seemed much less threatening. Pinpin wasn’t sure why he didn’t lead with that pose in the first place.

“I usually hold them back in my town, but I thought I’d expand this year. I’m looking for fresh talent. A new generation of bug catchers, if you will.” he explained.

“Sounds cool! What’s the prize?” asked Tatterbat, looking up from his own slip.

“Turn it over.” Yarnfell said.

Pinpin and Tatterbat both turned their slips over. More writing was on the back, only much smaller.

Contestants can choose to be in teams. You’ll have 7 days upon starting to catch and come back with your entry. Prizes will be distributed among contestants. First prize is equal to 40,000 leafs, shared among victors.

Pinpin felt her eyes bulge out at the sight of that number. 40,000?! She wasn’t even aware numbers went that high. Her hands gripped the paper tightly, causing it to crease.

A deep laugh came from Yarnfell. “Careful, missy. That there’s your entry ticket.”

“40,000? A-a-are you sure?” Pinpin had to ask. Maybe he’d just spelt it wrong, or didn’t know his numbers. Scarecrows weren’t known to be the best at numbers.

“That’s right.” Yarnfell replied, standing up tall and crossing his arms under his cloak. “You two seem like intrepid bug hunters. Fancy yourselves some cash to upgrade your gear?”

Pinpin looked at Tatterbat. He too seemed equally as shocked as her, with his eyes wide open in surprise and a delirious smile on his face. She looked up at her net, which was currently covered in tape and cracked in several places. Thoughts raced through her head as to what to spend the money on. Diamond bug nets. Statues of herself around her house. An infinite supply of Spelch Goop to snack on. It was all so clear, she could almost taste it now.

“What do you think, Tatterbat?” she asked, though she knew the answer already.

“YES!” the patchwork boy yelled, jumping up and down like a madman. He grabbed her by the shoulders and shook her until she was dizzy. “You’ll be my teammate right? We’re teaming on this? You have to! We have to team!”

Pinpin tried to free herself from the vigorous shaking. “I’ll team! I’ll team!”

Tatterbat let her go, and Pinpin steadied herself, recovering from the attack. Yarnfell looked at them with amusement.

“Well then, you two.” he said, throwing his cloak over himself and tipping his hat back down. “I guess I’ll see you at the competition. I’m expecting good things.”

“Wait, sir!” Pinpin asked. There was one thing she had to know.

“What is it, lass?”

“Why us?”

Yarnfell paused for a moment, his wrinkles creasing as he searched his head for an answer.

“I’ve got a hunch, is all. ” he replied. “Call it raggedy intuition.”

“Raggedy Intuition…” Tatterbat repeated. “Wow….”

“Thank you, Mr. Yarnfell.” Pinpin gave a polite bow and grinned, her fluffy tail waggling with glee.

Yarnfell gave a sly smile, before turning away. “Just call me Yarnfell. Mister is too formal. But alas, I must be off. Plenty of things to prepare for.”

“Yes, it must be a big thing for you!” Tatterbat exclaimed. “Good luck!”

“And to you too. Farewell for now, young bug hunters. Get home safe.”

“We will!” Pinpin replied. “Thanks again, sir- I mean, Yarnfell.”

Yarnfell raised a wooden arm at them, and walked away toward the woods, melting into the shadows. As he left, Pinpin and Tatterbat stood there, thinking over the events that had just happened. It seemed almost surreal. A competition in bug catching? Pinpin didn’t even know they existed.

“Wow!” Tatterbat exclaimed, before turning toward Pinpin. “Can you believe our luck?”

“It certainly seems good!” Pinpin replied, going over the ticket. She almost wanted it to be a trick, given how good it sounded.

“We need a team name, don’t you think?”

“A team name?”

“Yeah! Like the Patchy Pals, or Double Ragdolls, or something like that.”

Pinpin said the first thing that came to mind. There was no other alternative, really. “Bug Masters!”

Tatterbat opened his mouth at that answer. “Perfect.” he said. “Bug Masters…”

He held a hand up high, and the two jumped to high-five each other.

“Bug Masters!” They both yelled in unison.

With their name decided, and after a quick celebratory pose, they turned to the pathway that led toward home, and set off, conversation focused solely on the events to come.

They chatted until the moon came up and they arrived back in the village, topics varying from the types of bugs they’ll catch, to the mystery behind the scarecrow man. Scarecrows rarely ventured into this part of the Plains, preferring to stay in the fields, so it was a shock to see one hanging around in the middle of their route. The two of them started spouting off crazy theories and conspiracies, each one more crazy than the last.

“I bet he’s an alien who didn’t know where the scarecrows lived!” Tatterbat yelled.

“No, he’s a secret robot built to monitor us, and got lost on the way back home!” Pinpin replied.

“I bet he’s actually some sort of bug fanatic that wants to take over the world.”

“He’s a ghost of the last scarecrows that lived here.”

The conspiracies grew more and more, until the two of them reached the street on which they lived. Before long, they were right up against the entrance to Tatterbat’s home.

“Well, that's me!” Tatterbat said as they came up to his house, bidding farewell to the patchwork girl. I’ll see you later, Pinpin.”

“Patch you later, Tatterbat.” Pinpin replied, waving as she too headed toward her own home, which was conveniently only right next door.

Her house greeted her warmly. It was circular and built with red brick, with flowers arranged neatly around the outside. It backed against the hillside, making it feel like a cozy rabbit hole. When Pinpin entered the home, she smelt the familiar scent of cinnamon coming from the fireplace, and put her things against the door. She could always clean them up tomorrow.

The exhaustion from the day’s events started to take hold, and Pinpin responded by immediately throwing herself into the pile of pillows that made up her bed. There was no time to clean up or tidy her things. There wasn’t even enough to read a book get herself a drink of hot chocolate. The call of sleep was too strong, and she realised just how tired she was as she burrowed within the mountain of plush pillows and feeling very snug.

Feeling firmly protected by the shield of cushions, Pinpin swiftly fell asleep, her thoughts drifting toward the competition. Just what did it consist of? Who else would be competing? The questions followed her into her dreams, and she was soon completely zoned out.