Freaks on a Bench

Freaks on a Bench

Elliot wandered through the summer festival, sketchbook tucked under one arm, headphones clamping down the noise like a shield. Bright colours, laughter, and thumping music swirled around him. The scent of popcorn mingled with sun-warmed grass, and children’s shouts echoed near the game stalls. He alone watched as everyone else effortlessly navigated this chaos. He stood in this storm on a small raft, a lone bench.

Then he spotted her—a girl draped in black, also sitting alone on a weathered bench like a shadow that had taken human form. She sat in her own quiet island in this sea of noise, like a queen with dark spiky armour, ruling over the chaos. She was perfect.

He drew her for some time before his mother approached. “Elliot, you can draw at home, I don’t want you sitting here alone. There are plenty of kids your age here, you could make a friend today.”

He nodded and stood up. There was one person he wanted to talk to.

He approached slowly. “Hi,” he said softly. “Can I sit with you?”

She glanced up at his towering figure, raising an eyebrow. “Why, of course, that’s not weird at all.”

Elliot nodded and settled beside her. The bench creaked.

Before she could speak, he opened his sketchbook and held out a drawing—her, towering in black and red, draped in shadows, eyes glowing like a storm goddess.

She stared. “What the hell?”

“It’s not Hell,” he said quietly. “It’s based on it. The place is called Velmerica. Lava rivers. It’s on a planet with two suns. Most plants feed on dust and ash at night...”

“Woah, slow down. No,” she said slowly. “I mean… why are you giving this to me?”

He shrugged, tapping the sketchbook’s edge. “I didn’t know how else to start a conversation.”

“Do you normally do this sort of thing?”

“I draw comics a lot,” he replied.

“No, I mean—do you usually hand your drawings to total strangers?”

He hesitated. “No. My mom said I should try talking to people today.”

She tilted her head. “So… you are one of those special kids?”

He shook his head. “I don’t have any special abilities.”

She let out a breath, half-laugh, half-sigh. “Wow. You really are the king of the freaks.”

He frowned. “Does that make you the queen?”

She stared for a beat, then laughed—a rare, genuine sound. “Okay. I’ll give you that one.”

“I wish I was queen,” she said, pulling a loose thread on her sleeve. “No one takes me seriously, like the jester.”

Elliot nodded. “I don’t think I’d be good at that.”

She smirked. “You don’t need to practice being funny.”

He looked down. “I know, people laugh at me sometimes… even when I’m not telling a joke.”

Her smile faded slightly. “That sucks.”

“I’m used to it.”

She hesitated. “So… am I in any other comics?”

He flipped through more pages—Wren as a crow-winged knight, summoning shadow wolves, looming over a city of mirrors.

“You really drew all these?”

He nodded. “I draw people who feel interesting. You’re very interesting.”

She said nothing, just lingered on the pages, brushing her long black hair back.

“I wish my drawings looked this good. Some of these would make great tattoos”

Behind them four jocks were watching them. They were joking around and laughing. “Freaky girl is with a geek…” They mocked. Then one of them walked over and simply sat down interrupting them. He placed himself in between Wren and Elliot. Pushing Elliot aside. He smelled like smoke and cheap cologne.

“Come on, goth Barbie. What are you doing with that geek?”

“Go to hell, idiot. Leave him alone.”

Elliot tucked his notebook behind him and slowly raised his left hand near his chin, slipping into a quiet defence stance.

“You’re so cute when you’re mad. Come on let’s talk, just you and me.”

“I will tell coach you’ve been smoking with your buddies, if you don’t leave now.”

Elliot stood slowly. He looked at the jock. A muscle twitched in his cheek.

“Elliot wait, don’t go” Wren was defensive.

“That’s right. Go stalk someone else, weirdo…” the guy sneered.

Before he could finish, Elliot’s fist shot out, connecting squarely with his jaw. The guy collapsed, unconscious. For a moment Wren stared at the guy on the ground, then at his stunned friends. Elliot wiped the jock’s spit off his hand with a slight look of disgust.

Wren grabbed Elliot’s arm. “Run!”

They sprinted, hearts pounding.

Once they stopped, Wren turned to him. “How did you do that?”

Elliot shrugged. “He sat too close. Less than two feet. Didn’t ask.”

“Okay, but… where did you learn to punch like that?”

“My dad put me on a strict schedule. Exercises, training. Said I’m a wasted gift if I don’t use my strength.”

Wren raised an eyebrow. “Sounds intense.”

“Yeah. He pushed MMA classes. Said it builds discipline. I don’t like it but…he makes me go.”

She grinned. “No wonder you’re a powerhouse. My family doesn’t push anything. Not even the shopping cart.”

She grabbed his hand. “Alright, tough guy. Let’s see what else you’ve got.”

At the strength bell, Elliot brought the hammer down in one clean thud. The bell rang loud over the cheering crowd.

“Not bad,” Wren said. “Now, sharpshooting.”

She paid the booth operator and handed him the plastic rifle.

“Hit the red one.”

Elliot focused; the noise around them faded. He fired. Bullseye. The attendant handed him a panda. Wren clapped, dragging him to the arm-wrestling table.

“I don’t like touching,” he mumbled “Come on, don’t you want to win some more? We could bet a lot of people here.”

“No, actually, I don’t want more prizes or money.”

“Come on, you could win for me. You could show people for once you are a king, not a jester.”

Elliot sat down and rolled up his sleeve and slammed the first challenger’s hand down in seconds.

“Whoa!” someone shouted.

Stuffed toys and plushies piled up beside him with each win. Wren expertly sold them to passing kids, jingling coins in her pocket.

Elliot frowned.

“Don’t you want the stuffed bears?”

“Nope. I don’t like them.”

“So… you’re selling them?”

She shrugged. “I need the money.”

One prize she kept: a soft white bunny.

“Aren’t you a little mature for that?” he asked.

She hugged it. “It’s a souvenir. Don’t tell anyone I like bunnies.” She said softly. “What are you listening to?”

He glanced away, voice low. “The headphones block noise.”

“You can’t keep blocking out the world forever. It’s not healthy.” She grinned. “Come on. Haunted house next?”

He hesitated.

Inside, webs and bones covered the walls. Wren led the way. “Just like your comics,” she whispered.

Then: flashing lights. Screams. Elliot froze, heart hammering, breath shallow.

The ground started to fold and swallow him. Blinding white light marked his vision. Thumping blood filled his ears. His grip on his surroundings slipping. The air too thin to breathe. His mind was betraying him as everything got louder, brighter, heavier, his lips tingled, and body felt like ants were crawling over him. Panic crept under the surface like it’s trying to break out of his rib cage.

Wren felt his body tense, saw him stumble back, shaking.

She pulled off her jacket and tossed it over his head, to block the strobe lights, guiding him outside.

“What do you need?”

“Hold me steady.”

She wrapped her arms around him… “I’m sorry. I didn’t know that would happen.”

He shook his head. “I didn’t tell you it would.”

Later, on the Ferris wheel, they sat quietly. Elliot was calm again. Wren hugged her bunny.

“I envy you,” she said softly. “Your family loves you despite your quirks. My parents don’t even ask me for my school report.”

“I envy you too,” he replied. “You understand the world better than I do.”

She smirked. Elliot tapped his notebook silently.

“Would you be my girlfriend?”

“Sure. But no kissing.”

“Great, I’m fine with that.”

She blushed and asked.

“Will you be with me? After school… maybe during school too?”

He nodded. “I’d gladly be with you.”

She leaned against him.

The lights of the festival flickered like tiny stars.

Wren came home to a messy kitchen. A note was taped to the fridge:

Working late again. Order something. —Mom

She tossed her bunny onto the bed and flopped down, staring at the ceiling. Her room was all dark posters, skull art, dragons and old plush bunnies—some smiling, some torn.

Elliot stepped into his clean hallway. His mom looked up from the stove.

“Hey. You’re home late for once.”

“I made a friend today. Like you asked.”

His parents exchanged stunned looks as he headed to his room.

Elliot opened his computer and started an email. He attached a drawing.

In another room across town, Wren sat at her desk and opened her inbox.

Quiet, separate, but smiling—they began to write, and a new story took shape, one that takes place in the land of chaos. Two heroes: the raven queen wild and free and the summoning king tall and strong. Together, they would bring order to their kingdom of noise.