Say what you will about Rish . . . it can't be worse than what he says about himself.
"I hope it's gonna make you notice,
I hope it's gonna make you notice . . .
Someone like me."
Kings of Leon
"I don't think anyone knows what they really think--or perhaps even what they really know--until it's written down."
Monday, July 28, 2014
Broken Mirror Shard (apparently) - Day 1
Okay, so I did write on this bad boy today, but in my notebook, as usual, which means I have to type it up to present it to anyone. That's a pain, I realize, but I'll add more if I manage to scrape together a little time tonight after podcasting.
Untitled Claw Story
that their mother was working full time again, it was up to Stewart to keep
track of his little brother.Anthony was
seven, which isn’t that much younger than fourteen, but to Stewart, it was an
uncrossable gulf of age that provided only irritation and annoyance.Okay, and occasional affection, since Anthony
just wanted to be around his big brother, do what he did, talk like he did, go
where he went.
rode a skateboard, though, and Anthony rode a bike, and not nearly as
fast.To see him pumping his little legs
like the devil herself was behind him was amusing, however, and Stewarts
friends got a kick out of watching him try to keep up.
Stewart had ditched his little brother at the miniature golf course, and
Anthony had been in tears, asking the employees for a phone to call his mommy .
. . and Stewart was busted.His mom had
given him such an angry, tearful tirade about responsibility, and child
killers, and him being the man of the housenow, that Stewart had nearly cried himself.With Mom working days, he was only not grounded
if he was with his little brother, and that meant right next to his little brother.So, no more sneaking into construction sites, or breaking windows at the
abandoned leather works.Now he had to
go to the mall, or the water park, or the pet store, and entertain his spoiled
course, Anthony was thrilled to be able to pick their destinations, and would often
insist on holding Stewart’s hand, as embarrassing as that could be.One time, he told him about the man who’d
offered to give him a ride home from the golf course, and that had pretty much
cemented Stewart’s dedication to his sibling.
they had gone to the skate park, where Anthony had watched—with admirable
patience—as Stewart jumped, slid, and tried to half-pipe with the other
skaters, each trying to look coolest for the three girls who also happened to
be watching.Stewart wasn’t very good,
but Anthony was enjoying his attempts, and vowed to make him teach him how to
ride a board . . . when he got just a little older.
a hot day, sunny and breezeless, and they soon got tired of the summer heat.“Let’s go get a drink,” Stewart said, and
they started down the street.