He pushed the word around his plate, its sallow skin seeping red essence. His mother wouldn’t understand. She would think they were more of his ‘nonsense words’. If only she could comprehend his great creativity.
Destruction is a kind of creation.
He smiled and pushed the word again until it was perfectly aligned, juice dripping from its gelatinous spine. Inventing was his favourite. Creating destruction… It was a delicious past time.
And today’s word?
He reread it then looked up at his mother. Her back was to him, the soft thud-thud of the chopping board evident as she clipped small pieces from the cabbage. He’d told her he didn’t like cabbage.
Why didn’t she listen?
Scarlet light filtered across the back of her neck, a thin sliver thrown by the coloured window pane. It would be so simple to do it now. He murmured the word, the knife slice stopping.
Smiling, he got down from table, dangling feet finally finding the floor. He tottered past his mother’s body and headed for the tv room. He’d told her he didn’t like cabbage. She never listened.
The TV broke into life – children’s channel. He giggled at the silly cartoons, thinking nothing of the death curse he’d pressed just moments ago. Little princes deserved to have their fun, anyway. Not cabbage.
Part of the #MarchMadness blog challenge, you’ll find three more of these posts during the month but please check out the other entrants!
| [Did you enjoy this post?] |
| [Why not leave a comment or check out my books?] |