Dance Break!

I feel like shit doing this, but I need a break.  Next time I’m caught up, I will begin making a list of days I miss and just not worry about writing.  All of my ideas of late are less than fragments, and they refuse to come together, even when I apply super glue, hot glue, or spit.

I estimate my break will take a week, two at most.  Any longer, you can assume I fell into a hole, and I urge you to please HARASS ME THROUGH ANY MEANS POSSIBLE.

Stalk me and figure out how I died.  Maybe avenge me, even.  That would be awesome.  Make sure you use a tuning fork at some point, as well.  Oh, and wear a top hat, just so I know it’s for me.

 

Abduction

Revenge.  Even the word sent a ripple of tingling energy through my body.  I breathed for vengeance, and my heart beat to avenge the grievous wrong visited on me more than a year ago.

I stared at the one who did this to me.  She was petite and pretty, and the smile she directed at the grocery store’s cashier was filled with promises of sweet chocolate and strawberries on a warm summer day.  It made me sick.  My stomach flipped over and over inside of me.  She gave everyone that sickening smile.  That smile was the reason for all of my troubles.  She looked back at me. “Sorry it’s taking so long!” She smiled at me, and my knees felt weak.  For a few moments, I just looked at her for a long time before I nodded.  She returned her attention to the tattooed teen behind the counter.

 

“Well, remember what you said, because in a day or two, I’ll have a witty and blistering retort! You’ll be devastated THEN!” – Calvin & Hobbes

The time for vengeance was at hand.  I gripped my dagger.  It was small, but sharp.  It would end him far faster than he deserved.  Cold satisfaction gripped me as I called his name. “Bernard!”

He turned around.  For a moment, I almost lost the will to destroy him.  For a moment, I saw his very soul in those beautiful blue eyes.  I almost dropped my dagger.

“There’s something I have to tell you, Bernard, before we travel any farther.”

“I know already, Elise.” His tone was gentle, and his worn face broke into a gentle smile. “Go ahead.” He sounded like my father had before he was killed.  He sounded gentle and reassuring.

 

The Good Children

I was a good boy.  Everyone said so.  I did as I was told, and I minded my manners.  It was only right.  I was a child, and I was to be seen and not heard.  This was just, and this was right.

On my eighth birthday, the justice and rightness of the world vanished very suddenly.