My fanfiction and other random ramblings

my thoughts on how to write (or not)

Archive for October 2016

Splinters 10: Togetherness

leave a comment »

Emma’s pregnancy did mess up their plans rather thoroughly. In fact, there were only a few points they agreed on – starting with the most basic one, that they were going to keep the child.

After a big discussion they decide to call “it” Henry, or Irene, depending on the outcome. Elena was suggesting “Harry”, but Elsa pointed out that kids with “book names” are often picked on at school. Henry was close enough and a good, short name with no fuss. Elsa secretly wished for a girl, but Elena was more partial to a nephew. Emma just wanted to stop puking at some point.


“Have you considered your options?”

Emma blinked at the nurse behind the desk.

“Yes, we’ve already chosen the name.”

It was nurse’s turn to blink.

“I meant, have you considered – termination, adoption? There are secure ways to give a child away for adoption, and there are agencies that facilitate this. You could even get some money…”

The door behind Emma didn’t slam, as she had to energy to slam things any more.


Elsa wrapped the blanket around her and handed her a steaming cup of cocoa.

“They are…” Emma inhaled shakily. “They are just nasty.”

“They are following a script, really” Elsa sighed and sat across from her sister. “I suppose they get a ton of women our age, trying to get out of the situation. They are supposed to accept the first answer though, so she should have shut up the moment you said you chose the name. Also, she should not have mentioned the money.”

Elena leaned on the kitchen door frame.

“We’ll go with you tomorrow. Hopefully that will make them more restrained.”


Emma had to give up volunteering at the support centre and had trouble finding an appropriate job, but Elena managed to get a position on her first interview, to the envy of her sisters. Proofreading of historical journals was perfectly suited to her preferred mode of working from home.

Elsa’s job hunt took slightly longer, but companies needing a paralegal were abundant, she just had to pick the right one.

Emma’s spirits were so low she could barely make it out of bed and into the kitchen in the morning.


“Here” Elena dumped a stack of paper in front of her pregnant sister.

“What is that?”

Emma struggled to sit upright.

“Money. You read this, you mark errors, they pay. I know you hate picking on people’s errors, but these are sociological articles and I hope you can focus better on them than you would on some of mine.”

Emma picked the first sheet up and pushed her glasses up her nose.

“Why did you pick up these? I know you hate proofreading on paper…”

“But your laptop is half-dead and these had been delivered printed out anyway. I asked in the office if they had any backlog and picked some of these, by the topic. If you don’t like them, I can find some zoological ones and I’m almost sure I saw some about childbirth…” she smirked. “Now, you remember the correct notation?”

Emma shrugged.

“Hope so. Thanks, sis” she smiled slightly at Elena.


With the due date a month in the future, they never expected Emma’s waters to break in the middle of a shopping mall. Fortunately the car was just at the front of the mall – Elena had an uncanny knack of finding good parking spots. They half-carried Emma into it and earned Elsa several tickets on the way to the hospital. At least they didn’t try parking in the ambulance bay, like some parents they’ve seen, as Elena supported Emma in her march to the door and Elsa could park the car safely and correctly. She barely made it inside with her sisters.


Despite three or four attempts at separating them or removing at least one from the birthing room, they managed to stay with Emma for the whole 20-hour ordeal. Elsa was alert for every manoeuvre of the staff and Elena never let her nephew out of her sight, once he was washed and wrapped in a blanket. She was having a slightly bad feeling about all around them, but putting a finger on it seemed to be a challenge.


“We’re not leaving him in the hospital” Elsa felt that if she had to repeat that sentence one more time, she’d kill someone with her bare hands. “Some people… I just can’t. Just can’t.”

Elena pressed her hand briefly.

“We’ll get there.”

Elsa sighed.

“I hope so. I’m just a bit… why does everyone assume that three women can’t raise a kid?”


Henry was just adorable – if one could ignore his unfortunate resemblance to Neal. Emma was more than happy to do so. She sat on her bed, exhausted, sweaty and hoarse from screaming and her son was the very sweetest kid ever. The fact that his father failed at his basic task of being a decent human being did not affect her love for him one bit.

“So, dear, it’s the time to sign the papers” the nurse smiled in a way that unsettled her. “the quicker you do this, the sooner you can be on your way.”

Emma blinked, pulled brutally out of her reverie.

“What papers?” she coughed. “The doctor said we need at least one more day in the hospital. I didn’t…”

“Yes, you did” the nurse frowned. “You must sign these papers right now.”

“What is this…” Emma’s voice trailed off as she scanned the document. “I’m not giving Henry up for adoption! Are you crazy? Elsa already told that stinky lawyer to stay away from me! You’re not getting my son!”

Her tirade gained in volume as she pushed the pad of documents away and down from the bed, trying to get up.

“You will be a good girl and sign the blasted papers or you will learn how badly I can hurt you with just the stuff I can inject into your IV.”

Emma gestured with both her free hands.

“I have no IV!”

Big hands immobilized one of hers.

“Now you will, no worries.”

“And this is my clue to ask you to step away from that bed, write down your name and get you reported to the chief.”

“Elsa!”

“I kind of had a feeling they won’t give up that easily.”


The chief of the maternity ward squirmed in his seat as Elsa watched him with cool interest. Finally, having re-stacked the papers, organised the pencils and opened and closed the windows twice, he managed to look at her.

“We were asked to provide a boy, of certain characteristics” he uttered. “Your nephew fits the description. I’m so very sorry for my staff’s behaviour, but the possibility of a hefty bonus must have clouded some minds.”

“I don’t really care. You can now work out where you are going to find all the money I’m going to sue you for. I’m quite sure your insurance doesn’t cover ’employees being stupid craps’.”

It was, indeed, rather satisfying to be finally able to defend themselves against the world. Elsa found it refreshing to be the one in charge and in control, so she happily pushed the case until a healthy sum was deposited to Henry’s “school account”.

Proper lawyer-y detachment be damned, that was family.

Written by Srebrna

2016/10/30 at 21:59

Posted in Splinters

Splinters 9: Ruffians, thugs

leave a comment »

Emma leaned back on the couch with a groan. The high heels had been enough of a torture, but the whole official gown – pure hell. Especially in the hot weather of late spring.

“I sometimes lost hope we’d actually get through this” Elena slid down next to her. “With everyone repeating over and over again how brave and daring we were, orphans aiming for college! Incredible! “Are you sure you can manage, dears!” and so on. Like they never actually believed we’re intelligent enough to be there. Or that we should just go and flip burgers, just because we’re from a group home.”

Elsa strode in, her heels in one hand, robe cleanly folded on the other.

“We proved them wrong” she pointed out with a grin. “And now we can finally stop worrying about all these stupid people and their so-called advice. I want to do something monumentalto mark the day.”

“Just go and take a cold shower” Emma snorted. “It’s too hot for us, which means you should be sitting in shade and mainlining granita, not standing there, looking freaking perfect.”

“It’s the question of enough practice in being absolutely professional, no matter one’s personal needs. Keep it all together, head high, and don’t let them see you sweat. Lawyers are like sharks, they smell fear. I have to always maintain proper poise and be dressed just so. That much I learned on my internship.”

Someone pounded on the door.

“Pizza, THAT fast?” Emma looked at the wall clock. “I just ordered it like 15 minutes ago.”

Elena rose and opened the door just as another barrage of knocks started.

“Come on, you’re distur…”

Two police officers seized her arms and a pair of handcuffs clicked over her wrists.

“Emma Swan, you’re under arrest…”

“Excuse me?”

The policemen looked up at the other two sisters standing in the corridor.

“What?”

“Why are you arresting Elena?”

“I think they actually wanted to arrest me. Still, no idea why.”

“Identification” one of the policemen finally barked the order, not releasing his hold on Elena’s arm.

Both sisters shrugged and started fishing out their documents out of respective voluminous handbags. Elsa grabbed a handful of objects from hers and dug for her wallet, but Emma simply dumped the contents of her purse on the table and was looking through them, in the process dislodging the holster stuck between everything that had been stuffed in the bag.

“GUN!”


The whole thing ended up in a police station.

“So, you’re saying you are sisters?”

Elsa sighed patiently.

“Yes. All three.”

“So why do you two have your IDs and one doesn’t?”

Elsa bit her tongue, trying not to say something along the lines of “the stupidest question of the year”.

“Because your officers did not allow us to grab her bag and that is where her driving licence, her library card, her school ID and her passport are.”

The captain blinked.

“So you’re saying it’s my people fault your so-called sister is an illegal?”

All she could do is close her eyes and breathe evenly. Even with the law school under her belt she felt somewhat unsure about the police procedures and paragraphs involved.


“What exactly were you doing in that apartment?”

Emma shook her head.

“Pardon me, what?”

“I’m asking what were you doing in that apartment”

“Living…?”

“Who let you in?”

Emma’s brain screeched to a stop. And restarted on new thought path. She sighed. She straightened herself.

“Are you implying we were there illegally?”

“I’m the one asking the questions.”

“Are you aware that the lease is actually mine? The officers came there looking for me specifically – although I still have no idea why – so they weren’t there due to a disturbance or other random reason, they were there for me. The apartment was paid by me, personally. My name is on the building list. Our names are under the doorbell. Why are you behaving as if we’ve broken into it?”

“Did you?”


“Documents, please.”

“I don’t have any on me.”

“Any type of documentation will do. European passports are OK, too.”

“I have an US passport” Elena ground her teeth. “Just. Not. On. ME.”

“You’re making this harder on yourself. If you just hand over any ID you have, it will be much easier for all of us.”

“Officer” she finally spat out. “I have no documents and nowhere to hide them. I’m wearing bloody leggings and a t-shirt, where would I be hiding my IDs, tell me?”

“Did you lose them in the sea?”

“Excuse me?”

“You should have reported that to Immigration, now I’ll have to contact them…”

“My bloody driver licence is at home! The two you’ve sent to our flat didn’t allow us to bring anything more than we had on ourselves!”

“I see an unwarranted level of aggression here…”


The Immigration officers actually managed to stay quite serious when interviewing a thoroughly pissed off Elena Swan who provided her SSN, let herself be fingerprinted and checked against the drivers’ database. Even so, they did have some words for the station captain regarding the idiocy of calling Immigration on a US national without allowing said national to actually provide the documents he was demanding.

Elena was finally released, although nobody even tried to express any kind of remorse regarding her treatment

“The first thing I do when we get home I google how to sue the police…” she mumbled, sitting on one of the plastic chairs.

Elsa plopped gracelessly next to her.

“No worries, I already got all needed paperwork. Anyway, they are still holding Emma for some idiotic questioning. They think she was stealing watches. In Phoenix.”

Elena’s eyes bulged.


The Homicide detective who actually owned the case tore the station captain to shreds with her tongue lashing. It turned out the stolen watches were only a tiny piece of a big investigation that included three corpses, five stolen cars and a break-in.

“He… he left them in my car?” Emma asked, her hands shaking.

“Well, it would seem so” the detective’s raspy voice was somewhat comforting. “If what you’re saying is true, he set you up. And, I’m guessing, most probably tipped the police.”

“IF? Are you implying I’m lying? I’ve never been to bloody Arizona! We have no time to, to, gallivant around the country!” Emma’s voice broke as she hiccuped.

“Listen, kid. The guy is bad news anyway. He’s wanted in at least six states. Once the labs are done with the box, we’ll have the confirmation that you never touched the contents, we’ll be done and you’ll only be called to witness once we have him in custody and arraigned.”

Emma nodded and swallowed convulsively.

“I never opened any box, we were just packing them in my trunk when he was moving.”

“He wasn’t.”

Emma’s eyes snapped open.

“He was moving his storage – his cache. He actually lives in a car.”

“How…?”

“He’s been doing this for ages. He steals a car nobody is using for some time – during vacation – and lives in it for a few months.”

“But he always said he doesn’t have a car. He used public transport…” Emma trailed off. “Ah. He didn’t want us to see the mess inside?”

“Probably. Or just didn’t want you to be able to identify his current car.”

“God, I was so stupid…” she combed her hair with trembling fingers. “At least I can be quite sure there are no fingerprints of mine on these watches. I’ll bet there are some on the box – I was straightening his stuff when we were packing it. Augh…”

“OK, kid, now, listen. I’m letting you go, just don’t leave Boston. You and your sisters may be asked to witness either at court or give more detailed description to us – this time at my station, of course.”

Emma nodded and smiled uncertainly.

“I hope we won’t be needed” she sighed finally. “We were kind of planning to have some vacation.”


The pizza delivery guy was not amused.


The court date came and they testified, assisted by “their” detective’s younger brother (also a cop) with transport and all arrangements.

The whole team from support centre had their moments in front of the court, giving more strength to Emma’s statements and adding new details about the secret life of Neal Cassidy, each providing some new, slimy facet of his character.

Neal had not been apprehended in time, but as one of his partners in crime was, the proceedings went smoothly, making almost sure he would not remain a free man if the police ever managed to get their hands on him.


Emma threw up almost everyday until the court session and they hoped her nervous attacks will stop after that, but her symptoms did not lessen.

Peeing on a stick gave them the confirmation of what Elsa was already suspecting.

“Fuck you, Neal” Emma growled, looking at the little plus.

“Well…” Elena shrugged. “Looks like someone already did.”

“Oh, shut up.”

Written by Srebrna

2016/10/26 at 21:55

Posted in Splinters

Splinters 8: Out into the light

leave a comment »

Growing up in a group home wasn’t hard – once the original small-children orphanage was reformed they stayed even in the same building, just under a different name.

It became a bit more involved, especially as they grew – they had chores, they were sent out shopping, they had trips to the ZOO and picnics. Still, they stayed in the relatively limited range of people in their school grade and in the home.

College, however, was a shock. The sheer number of people and complexity of interactions required from them by their new environs were astounding.

Elsa’s reaction was simple. She reached even higher level of detachment from all others, calmly ignoring everyone equally – bullies, jocks, mean girls, nerds – except for her own sisters. Where it didn’t affect her grades, it gained her a rather obvious nickname she quickly became tired of.

Elena took up martial arts, delighted with bo staffs and the occasion to hit people with a stick legally. Both her sisters took to teasing her about her musculature a bit, but as the shortest (by an inch) she was happy to gain a bit of strength. It proved to be helpful in all kinds of situations, especially if Elsa needed extracting from some idiotic situation with an oblivious (or seemingly oblivious) admirer. There were no admirers for Elena, at least not after she became known to have climbed the dojo rank ladder rather quickly.

Emma took the bravest step in her life and signed up for social support group for disprivileged youth, and together with a number of other like-minded students from all departments she worked in a study hall, tutored kids and supported them in various activities, up to and including interventions at schools and helping in personal matters. She was learning so many important things she felt they had missed in the group home and she would share – as much as she could sanitize of personal data – with her sisters whenever she learned something useful. All three needed a lot of information about the actual “outside world” to survive until graduation.

As Elsa worked her way towards a law degree – having decided that becoming an assassin requires way too much climbing and crawling, Elena and Emma followed their more technical goals. Although being the “mascot of the group” became very annoying very quickly, Emma stuck to her programming course. It was slightly harder for Elena, who couldn’t make her mind and tried to take typography classes, technical writing, editing and creative writing courses all at the same time.

Her sisters supported her – despite their obvious doubts – and they all pulled through. With their master thesis properly edited, set and printed.

They survived by holding together at all times. Well, almost all. They were adults, after all.

Written by Srebrna

2016/10/26 at 21:53

Posted in Splinters

Splinters 7: Progress is encouraging

leave a comment »

Being nearly identical gave girls a lot of opportunity for mischief, including, as they grew up, discovering the various chances of cheating the school system by replacing each other during chosen lessons. On the other hand, teachers were obviously on a lookout against such antics, so the situation balanced itself out and sometimes the girls won, but sometimes they were caught and paid the price. Still, even with the reports from school underscoring their pranks and attempts of cheating coming in, Annabelle Hanners felt that putting them together and making them all sisters was one of the best ideas that she had ever had.

She still remembered the episode with separation anxiety in the first grade, and she observed the connection between them strengthening – fortunately, as they grew, also maturing and allowing them some distance from each other. They were quite happy to split up at school, and by the third grade, they could even safely leave on separate class trips, if the situation demanded it. Still they stayed in the same room and took visible comfort from their own company.

Even the usual woes of children in the system – lack of entertainment, scarcity of interesting clothing and the perpetual hope of being placed with a proper family – seemed to touch them less than other children.

She could only hope their bond would sustain them after they grew out of the system and she could no longer support them. She had seen enough good kids get lost in the real world once they left the relatively safe confines of the group homes.


Being friends with the senior P.E. teacher – Mr Sully – had the unexpected outcome of all three being more carefully taken care of than any other random kids. The downside was, once the real P.E. started, they were running ragged and barely crawled home after every lesson.

Mr Sully made it his personal challenge to make them finally let go of each other, logically posing that if they learned to stay a bit apart, nobody would be able play with them again like the psychologist had.

On their first lesson they got assigned to different teams, and no amount of Emma’s whining, Elena’s tantrums or Elsa’s silent tears could make him put them in the same group. They were in the same room, he explained, that should be enough.

And, in time, it worked. His dedication to the task made them both more fit and more independent from each other – able to leave the room where the other two were for much longer time than ever before, so giving them the freedom from the crippling fear they felt before whenever one disappeared for more than five minutes.

And P.E. was good, finally letting them blow off some of the excess energy that could not have been used up at home. It also gave them vital skills needed to deal with the rare bully at school, including the most obvious, of running away, and the less obvious, of kicking the bully where it hurt. Mr Sully was a great believer of girls practicing martial arts, starting with the schoolyard self-preservation moves.


“Madeline got adopted” Emma sighed gustily. “And we’re still here…”

Elsa shrugged, trying to get Elena’s braid under control.

“Triplets ain’t easy to adopt” she repeated the same thing that they’d heard for ever and since they could remember.

“I know, I know…” Emma’s forehead touched the wood of the windowsill. “I just wish there was someone out there who would want us. All. And we could leave and go to proper big school and see actual real world…”

“We will. Mrs Hanners says she’s sending our papers to some foundation that pays for tuition for underprivileged kids. And as we’re orphans and unadoptable, she says we have good chance.”


The foundation did not even visit the group home. Mrs Hanners was fuming for days when she received their reply that her wards did not “show sufficient promise” that would make it reasonable to give this amount of money to one specific family.

She angrily threw the papers into her desk drawer and sat there, blinking the tears away. Then she picked up the phone and started making calls.


Three days later Elsa, Elena and Emma were packed into a waiting taxi and taken to a huge office building in the middle of Boston.

“There is a lady here who wants to meet you. I decided if nobody is willing to help us with your school fees, well, we have to earn you some money. The lady is the director of marketing and if she likes you, she will hire you for the whole campaign.”


“So you want your wards to earn money for school?” the lawyer was frowning somewhat angrily. “Why can’t you apply for a stipend? Or a tuition reduction?”

Anna Hanners sighed. The same question yet again. Why did they care what she wanted to pay for with their money?

“There are three of them. Most schools allow only certain amount of “charity cases” and I can’t risk two of them getting approved and one not. It’s better if they can raise the needed money themselves. This way their choice is much better when it comes to picking the actual school.”

The lawyer seemed unimpressed and Annabella suddenly wished for Elsa to give up her dream about law school – she wanted her girls to get good jobs, but is being a corporate lawyer made a human being into this kind of creature, she didn’t want to see Elsa become one, ever.

Still, she kept her peace and smiled tightly at the man, as he finally pulled out a draft contract.


Elsa hated the lamps, but stood there bravely, with her smile firmly affixed and her brain counting how much of the next year’s tuition in their new school she was – they were – earning with every single minute of the photoshoot.

Teens wear was not something she was very knowledgeable about. Usual clothes in the group home were “whatever we could buy in bulk” so girls were used to monochrome t-shirts, one model of trousers and not much variety in the chequered shirts department. Suddenly they were faced with choice.

Fortunately nobody asked them to make the specific decisions, and they served as perfect dress-me-up dolls for a group of enthusiastic women, delighted with such occasion. They were dressed in identical things, things varied in colour, things varied in model (but with common colour theme), things from one line (all sporty, all dressy) and so on and so on. This session was the last, with Elsa wearing a blue sundress, Elena in blue jeans and striped blue-white t-shirt and Emma in a blue leather jacket matched with blue-black trousers and black top.

“Perfect” someone said from the crowd and the director of the shoot started posing them in front of the camera.

Their faces were everywhere in US. Or rather, almost everywhere. Few tiny spots on the map were missed by the billboard companies.

They were flooded with propositions for a TV shoot, for another photo session and even for an interview. Quietly all these were archived and they ignored the fashion world until next summer.

Two more contracts with the same clothing company gave them enough money to pay for all the college education they may wish to ever have, with surplus.

Written by Srebrna

2016/10/22 at 21:51

Posted in Splinters

Splinters 6 – Something quite atrocious

leave a comment »

Something quite atrocious

The very egalitarian society of local primary school had accepted orphans before and would again. None of the children made any remarks about the shabbiness of one’s backpack, or about children wearing the same type of jackets. In general, their peers were quite used to the group ferried daily from the home and back.
There was only one hiccup, as on the first day Emma was separated from her sisters and led to a different classroom.
They asked the teacher in their class, they asked the teacher in Emma’s class, they asked Mrs Hanners and nobody seemed to see any way of putting them in the same group, despite being perplexed with the way the lists were set.
At the end of day four, all three of them were tired and stressed beyond anything they’ve ever experienced before. Emma seemed distracted and managed to lose her lunchbox, Elena suddenly lost the ability to read without vocalising and Elsa’s hands were trembling so much she could not draw a straight line. Even whole evenings spent huddled together on Elsa’s bed, with Emma sandwiched between her sisters, did nothing to help.
On day five they decided not to allow anyone to separate them, however the minute they approached Emma’s homeroom in a group, she was snatched inside and the door firmly shut in the other two’s faces.
Elsa felt herself dragged down to the floor, as Elena sat where she stood and started crying piteously. She herself started shaking with suppressed anger, and the teachers gathered around them, looking disapprovingly, someone even snorting at the sight of them.
“What the…” a larger hand divided the crowd of grownups and a big man entered the circle. “Why aren’t you in the class?”
“O-o-our sister got assigned to a different group” Elsa managed to choke out. “We’ve never… I don’t know…”
“Oh, kid. Your older sister, right? She has to go to another class…”
“No!” Elena wailed. “Emma is eight, like us!”
Tiny, reedy man approached the larger one and whispered something.
“You must be kidding. No. No, why would you think… Oh, man, NO. Ok, kids. You both come with me. You” he pointed a finger at the smaller man “wait for me here. You idiot.”
The sisters learned that the school principal isn’t always the most important person in the school, but it definitely helps to be friends with the most senior P.E. teacher.
The school psychologist learned that running social experiments on separation anxiety may be the shortest way to no-payslip-land, even – or rather especially – when using orphans as his rab lats.
The principal learned that his psychologist was running a side job of small socio-experiments on the pupils and, just in case, hired a lawyer.

Elsa observed the lawyer lady with awe as she strutted down the corridor in her high heels, pencil skirt and blue jacket. Hearing the measured voice, the very sophisticated language and watching the calm, economical gestures of the woman she decided, then and there, that one day she would be a lawyer, too.
Or she would become a hired assassin and kill such women for money. Whichever would pay better.

Written by Srebrna

2016/10/08 at 23:18

Posted in Splinters

Splinters 5 – Make a man out of you

leave a comment »

August – he kept reminding himself to use that name even in his thoughts – was moderately happy.
He had been taught to read and write. He was introduced to the wonders of mathematics, biology, history and computers. At ten, he wasn’t much behind his peers, even though he started from what the teachers called “tabula rasa”, his skills limited to general survival and woodworking. The second one won him accolades at all workshops the boys were assigned to at school, as he could fashion a birdhouse, a cutting board, a key hanger and all manner of other small wooden objects that were graded for these classes. He was taught the usage of power tools, which still amazed him – he could only imagine what his Papa could have done with a mini-drill and some of these attachments that the teachers were using so easily and taking for granted.
He was a bit afraid of the computers. Machines that made a drill go fast were good. They did something he knew, but did it better than hand-drill. Machines that spoke, made lights, sung and heard you were plain weird.
He learned the mastery of text editor and calculating with a spreadsheet. He could even draw a picture which would later be put on paper by another machine, equally magical in his eyes.
Still, he preferred more traditional ways of recording his thoughts. Ballpoint pens were good enough for him, thank you very much. Ink pen was more of a challenge, as his poor fine motor skills affected his ability to handle it properly. He tried and tried, but his notes came all splotched with ink and finally the teachers gave up – no type of therapy seemed to help, so they chalked it up to some developmental problem and allowed him to use the ballpoint pen from now on. He chalked it up to him being fashioned out of wood and not being expected to learn to write at any point of his life.
One sunny day, four years after he came to the group home, all older boys were taken to the attic and given a task of dragging the boxes downstairs, where girls were unpacking them and segregating things to be kept, used or discarded. There August met his first true love. She had a number of black keys and was even properly packed in a cardboard box, with all required accessories in the pocket.
As he tried it out, the letters came up, a little dust cloud accompanying them.
At the end of the afternoon he was promised that the typewriter would be his, whenever he managed to make a new box for it and had place in his room.
It was one of the few things he packed into his case when the fall came and he got ill yet again. The doctors declared he had to be moved into the countryside for his health.
He had barely time to say goodbye to his beautiful princesses when the man from the new house came and packed all his things into a big car. He kept staring through the window, his eyes tearing up at the thought of leaving his little charges all alone.
I’m sorry, Papa. I can’t do this alone. But they are together. I brought them all here. I hope this counts.

Written by Srebrna

2016/10/02 at 23:16

Posted in Splinters

Tagged with ,