Brisket Prompts

Day 7 Secrets - Brisket

The Painted Satyr meandered through the large crowd in the farmers market. Brisket pulled the cloak closer, the hood obscuring his face completely from everyone in his vicinity. Weaving through, Brisket was careful to not bump into anyone, he wanted to be quick here to get a few groceries. Brisket was so focused on getting through the crowd, he didn’t notice a shorter Painted Satyr suddenly took a sharp turn and the next thing he knew, Brisket was down on the ground along with the other Satyr. The other Satyr groaned, some books scattered around them.

“I’m SO SORRY!” The Satyr shrieked, making Brisket almost dizzy at the sudden shout. 

“Don’t worry.” Brisket stated, his voice a bit rough. “I didn’t see you at all.”

“Still, I should have been careful!” Her voice lowered considerably. The satyr started to gather her books together, scrambling around frantically, like she dropped money.

“Here, let me help you.” Although Brisket wanted to avoid people, it would be rude to not help the poor girl. 

She thanked Brisket over and over, while he moved around, precariously picking up a few books, until one particular book caught his eye. The cover had a very familiar Satyr, posing with a near smug grin.

“Oh! I almost forgot I had that book, this one was a particular hard find for me.” The girl rambled, snatching the book from Brisket’s still hands. “I adore reading about Brisket’s work as an archeologist, he give a sort of humorous tone into his writing, which can make a dry book into something more palatable to read!”

“....Oh, I see. That is interesting.” Brisket could only say.

“Have you heard about him before? Brisket is a well known archeologist!”

Brisket struggled to even keep his voice calm, much less his face. At least it was obscured. While his curse has already messed up his face, he is at least still recognizable. “I have head of him in passing.” was all Brisket could muster.

The Painted Satyr nodded. “I’m surprised to be honest. He used to be a bit more well known a couple years back, but since he practically disappeared, his popularity has faltered considerably.” She tapped on the cover. “Some are saying he died on a secret expedition, others are saying he got tired of his job and quietly left.”

“Well” Brisket started, “perhaps he is busy and found another passion.” he said. 

“Maybe.” the satyr said simply. She shrugged. “Well anyways, thanks again for helping me pick up my books!” With that, she bounded away, balancing her books precariously in her arms.

The famous archeologist that the Painted Satyr had unknowingly met stood there, looking on to where she had disappeared in the crowd, only thinking if only she knew Brisket’s secret.

Day 7 In the Shadows -  Brisket

The air tonight was chilled. The wind caressed the falling leaves from the trees, as they fell while the trees prepared for their wintery sleep. The sun had nearly set, leading the sky to be twilight. Brisket stood at the entrance of the cemetery, the shadows of the gate casting over him. Brisket had a variety of tools in a wheelbarrow, to tidy up the gravestones and other areas of the burial grounds. 

The Painted Satyr sighed. “Well, another day, another dollar, and a clean cemetery means a job well done.” Brisket grounded out. He looked over to see the last rays of sunlight finally disappear over the horizon, casting Brisket in a myriad of shadows from the trees blocking out the moonlight. While quiet, Brisket couldn’t help but miss his archeologist days. 

When he was an archeologist, Brisket was in the limelight. Although the newscast people can drive him batty, he would much rather deal with them than the biting loneliness he puts up with nowadays. There were always people around. Coworkers scuttling around to finalize provisions for the next expedition, news vans wanting to interview at least someone, interns rushing coffee orders. It was chaos, but welcomed chaos. Now, Brisket’s curse has casted him into the shadows, cursed to rarely interact with anyone without a cloak or some other item covering his face.

The graveyard stood silently, uncaring for Brisket wondering and reminiscing of the good old days. The Painted Satyr sighed and lifted the wheelbarrow of supplies, ready to work throughout the night, and leave in the shadows of the morning before anyone could see his eldritch scars.