Wound - August 01, 2012

[note: this was written during a writing exercise: we had 20 minutes to write something inspired by the word "wound". This is the result, unedited, exactly as it appeared when time ran out. You can read all of them in the waves category]]

Wound- Squiddy Geiger - August 01, 2012

Oliver fretted. It wasn't fair that he had to wait here "guarding the house" while the rest went out to have fun. He wasn't the one who lost the damned key, why did he have to suffer for it? He should have been out there with the others, having a great time at the fair, but no, he was stuck here, protecting the house.

Protecting the house? From what? Everyone was at the fair. Except him. What the Hell was he supposed to do until they got back? Chores were all done, he'd read the few books in the house so many times, he could practically recite them. There was nothing to do! It just wasn't fair!

Emmett had lost the key, Emmett should have stayed here at the house to protect it. But of course, Father hadn't listened, he never listened to Oliver. When there was an extra chore to be done, did Emmett do it? No, Oliver did it. When there was a problem about the farm, did Emmett get blamed? No, Oliver got blamed. Everything was his fault and everything was his to do. Well, no more, Oliver would let Father know exactly what he thought of this, when they got home. He'd had enough and he would say exactly what was on his mind, despite the probable caning he'd get for talking back.

Oliver heard someone coming up the path, and waited, pacing, ready to unleash a torrent of hate. The door opened and Emmett walked in carrying a packet which he set on the table. "Father sent me back to guard the house for the afternoon. You're to go enjoy yourself at the Fair, and here are two apples to eat while you go! Now get out of here!"

Oliver's prepared blast, caught before it could start, redirected to his gut - his tightly wound spring broken. He meekly took the apples from his brother, smiling sheepishly, and headed out the door. He was going to the Fair! All thoughts of blasting his brother were gone as he closed the door behind him. What a wonderful day to be alive!

Posted by Squiddy at August 1, 2012 08:45 PM | TrackBack