First communion with the devil that is my Daddy. In order to understand, you've got to start at the end and look back over your shoulder into the madness with a mirror, handheld and cracked.
My tombstone reads "murdered" and my family is convinced that is the truth but the truth reads like one novel to some and a short story to others and the weather girl reads it yet again a different way. It was Christmastime in Savannah and he was drunk again, or still, as it were, and there was the gun and then the fight spilled out...
Simon had wanted some Crocs for ages. His mum resisted as she hated the sight of them, but she finally gave in when he pleaded for some for his birthday. He wore them day in, day out.
Footwear was always an issue in their house. They had to have so many pairs for school; outdoor shoes, trainers and plimsoles for PE, their parents found it a struggle to get them any shoes for outside of school. Having six children had it's benefits but it was a financial drain.
The end of the summer term neared.
"Have you got your trainers?"...
"Wine. Please." Mycroft replied, when I gestured to the still warm tea pot. I summoned Mrs. Hudson and passed on the request. She eyed Sherlock's intruder with continued suspicion, having clearly not banished the crazed Scottish farmer he'd just been representing.
As she left, my companion chuckled quietly, "'My croft.' A lovely pun, given you were attempting to represent a crofter… from the Islands off the west coast I believe…" His speculation clearly hit the target. "But why the obvious mistakes, dear brother? There is more to this than is straight forwardly apparent."
He'd gone again. Inside that wonderful mind...
She drove at a breakneck speed. Her sister sat in the backseat, reclined against him, eyes rolled up in awe. She turned the corner on two wheels, the screech of the tires raising demons from hell.
Halloween, an old car, her doting sister Cinderella, as stupid a princess as ever, wrapped up in the arms of a 57 year old vampire wannabe.
"HE'S 57!!!" She shouted as the car righted itself. "It's true!" her sister cooed.
"I'm sorry. 57!! and still dressed up as a vampire!"
She punched the gas on the straightaway. The green clock said 5am.
"Vampires are...
The bird landed. A thunder clapped. A dog barked and the bird opened a pocket on its vest.
Peering through a telescope, the yellow bird surveyed 360 degrees of the town square.
All along the square doors slammed and windows shuttered.
All but the doors of the saloon, which are more like shutters, really. Do saloons even have doors?
The bird shook its feathers. Focus.
From beneath the saloon shutters rolled a woman in pantaloons and suspenders and a blousy black turtleneck. She held in her hands two baskets, their covers carefully latched.
Kneeling in the street Liza double and...
Holmes pulled up his chair, muttered to himself for a second then cleared his throat.
'We have your bizarre first appearance as a Scottish small holder, otherwise known as a Crofter, if I am not mistaken. At first I thought this was a silly pun on your name, dear brother. "M' small holding' being rendered as "My croft".'
Mycroft nodded.
"Yet, you knew I would see through your disguise even if Watson was fooled." He turned to me and smiled apologetically. I dissembled, but had to admit he was correct. " And we must not forget the excellent Western lilt...
The tracks screeched as the train hurtled through the curve. "Is this normal?!" she screamed, "Are we going to die?"
"It's looking likely!" he shouted back as he tumbled into the roomette. Crawling on his knees, panic leapt into his eyes. He scanned the floor, sweeping his hands over the carpet, under the seats.
"What are you looking for?" she shouted as she braced herself in the hallway.
"Nothing. It's nothing. You know, at times like these, when disaster looms, we must ask ourselves what motivates us, what grand ideas guide us in our illusory walks towards our certain doom....
WHAP!! The sniper rifle cracked harshly then a second later an echoing crack sounded back across the valley. A few hundred feet below a crawler's head exploded.
Daniel smoothly reloaded and set his eye back to the scope. "Clear for now. They'll be confused by the sound, but look lively. Your boy's on the High Street heading into trouble."
Off to the edge of his vision, a runner… Runner Five? Runner Eight? broke cover, trailed by Peter. They reached Luke just as he turned the corner where a lone Zom was shambling by the corner shop.
***
I see Mummy....
The disco ball was turning, splattering little dots of light around the room. James waited patiently in his carefully thoughtout position directly above it. He needed to wait until his target reached the invisible X directly under the big rotating ball of tiny mirrors. His fingers ached but soon, he told himself, soon he would have satisfaction. The man in the suit coat was nearing th X. James positioned the knife next to the rope that held the disco ball. The man was on the X. In one swift motion, James cut the rope and watched as it fell. There...
I jumped. I left the rope ladder up in the treehouse. I'm scared. Leaving it will stop me from not going to Mummy. I'm not crying. I am a big boy. I will go to Mummy, even if she is still mad, and walking like Daddy.
Maybe she will hit me like Daddy and I will tell people I fell downstairs and tomorrow she will buy me candy and Daddy will come home.
She is near Mr. Grant's shop. Most of the other angry people have given up looking for me, or where looking in other places, or have fallen...