Aemc
Normally I'd be thrilled at the prospect of getting together at the holidays, but given the current atmosphere with the family dinamic I'm starting to dread it again. Like I'm a teenager all over again. If I were presented with a better option I'd take it in a heart beat. Bahamas for Christmas, anyone?
Her methods were a little bit sloppy. No one complained though, the job always got wrapped up nicely by the end.
I love to cook. It releases all tension from my day. I especially love to bake. The needed precision with ingredients and steps you must follow clears my mind relaxes me, centers me, and forces me to re-focus on everything around me. Then the reward. My favorite activity; Eating.
The silent night, right before the rise of the sun. My favorite, & least seen time of the day.
The past keeps running through my head today.
Hindsight is 20/20.
I'm so utterly and unbelievably grateful for what i have today.
No regrets.
She came back into the room. Slowly closing the door behind her. Nothing could be under the bed. She had imagined that movement from the corner of her eye. "Don't be silly," she told herself, "nothing's under the bed." How could it be? Slowly she stepped forward, each step increasing her heart beat until it was almost exploding inside her chest. "Just a few more steps and I'll be in bed, don't be stupid, monsters aren't real." she thought to herself, but still she couldn't. Frozen. She thought, "Maybe I'll just jump those last few steps. No. Just walk over to the bed. It's just a bed, not a safe zone. And the floor beneath it, just a floor." Step by step she is right next to her bed. She exhales a sigh of relief and exacerbation with herself for being so silly. Then she feels the hands upon her ankles. Her throat blocked from screaming for lack of air from her exhale. Instead making a small squealing squeek. Falling backward, heart in her throat, tears on her face. It emerges from under the bed. In a moment she's face to face with her brother. His smirk disappears as he see's her face, streaked with tears, and now with a definate look of betrayal and annoyance. "Why would you do that?!" she whispers, unable to yell from sheer confustion. The whisper is much worse for him. Maybe if she had yelled he wouldn't feel so guilty. His insides squirm with regret. "I'm sorry." She sees his sincerity in every inch of his being. Should she make him suffer more? No, "it's alright. I'm going to bed. I wasn't that scared anyway." He knows she's lying, but takes the chance to leave anyway.