September, 12
Damnville
You know Dad,
If I counted up the number of times I’ve been in BIG trouble, I’d open a Trouble Museum. Ma says it’s all coz I was born on a plane and caused quite a trouble to everyone aboard. Or as she calls it — bloody mess. ‘You are born to get in all the wrong places,’ she says and I say it wasn’t me in the first place who took that 14-hour flight drop-dead pregnant to the hell of a nowhere.
But maybe she does have the point. Coz I got to a TERRIBLY wrong place just yesterday and would rather prefer a 14-hour flight to nowhere, please. We’ve been to Hecta’s Gran’s on a visit at her Palace-like house in Ratyshche. The place is HUGE and full of people like a cucumber of seeds (her clan is like Golden Horde, and as barbaric). Nobody attacked our Amazons Army though, so we were dying of just boredom. But not until Heck had her *BRILLIANT IDEA* to play Hide and Seek.
‘Ew! We’re too big for that,’ Agnieszka retorted.
‘We play that or go for another round of Gran’s babble on Pan Grant cheating on his wife with a milkman,’ Hecta said and Neshka jumped to her feet with, ‘You count!’
We decided to cover only open rooms since we’d sooner grow with grass than get found in the back chambers. Still I was determined to give Heck a hell with that. I’m a master of disguise, ho-ho! So she went counting, One little gnome, two little gnomes, three big dragons burn their homes… Agnieszka stood behind the drapes with her fairy bowed shoes sticking out. She ALWAYS takes drapes! She’s too keen on all those romantic Victorian novels where drapes were everywhere and stuffed with people listening to all sorts of secrets, meh! I could do better, I thought and nosed into every box and basket around like a true fit-in-all cat but couldn’t find anything safe enough. Then I heard Hecta yelling, ‘READY OR NOT,’ panicked and slipped into some room at random.
It was rather small, and, damn, had no baskets. So I crawled under the bed, pushing aside one million and one pair of shoes, noisy tin cans and other inconceivable junk. Was right on the dot in time before the door creak opened. I held my breath, trying on my magic invisibility before Hecta AHA’s at my sticking out ass. Instead, I heard giggles, shuffling, feet rapping at the floor and the door click shut. Then Hecta’s auntie Christina’s voice murmured, ‘Your wife’s gonna kill me.’
‘Nobody’s gonna know, babe,’ Pan Grant’s voice replied, low and muffled. They put the lights off and plopped on top of the bed doing lots of funny animal noises. And I was like SHIVER ME TIMBLES!
WHAT was I gonna do?! Surely NOT jump out of there with a stiletto in each hand crying, Shoe Police, hands up, dicks down! Ugh, I’d better stayed there until Ragnarök hoping by the time I see the light in the tunnel, I’d finally manage to grow a proper beard for my true Viking looks. But Lady Doom said, Nah! and sent me the fattest ever fatso cockroach creeping there right under my nose. And y’know, cockroaches and I are mortal enemies. We’re like Saint Michael and Satan, just bound to battle. Honestly, I had no control over my archangelic muscles when I grabbed a shoe and slopped it dead.
‘What was that!’ Pani Christina shrieked, stopping the creak-squeak of the old matrass.
‘Someone downstairs,’ Pan Grant supposed-to-sleep-with-milkmen groaned. ‘Don’t mind it.’
And I wouldn’t mind it either but my sacred battle stirred all the dust down there and I had no control over that gigantic sneezing bursting out of my entire essence, bumping my spine against the bed roof. That sent them both jump in sheer total horror. Their screams echoed in every corner, and I think Pan Grant’s has killed every crystal glass in the house.
There was no point in waiting for Loki and Co. I shot out of there like a bullet, clattering with all the blasted tin cans and sneezing again so hard that bomb farted them right in the faces. Oh, BLOW ME DOWN. My only luck, the lights were out. I darted looking for the door, hearing them drop off the bed, still yelling like never. Just a mushroom salad little fart, why so panic, jeez!
I jumped through some door and hit the helluva mess of clothes and hangers. Some more carton junk fell on top of my head. SHIVER ME THIMBLES the wardrobe! I realized (quite sadly) there was no Narnia behind it. So I bumped back and found the door stuck. Blimey! I was trapped! TRAPPED in a wardrobe! I pressed a foot against it and gave it such a Viking kung fu push I tumbled out of there like a football and rolled hell out of there. Pani Christina fled to the bathroom and her lover still messed with his pants, still yelling.
I dashed along the corridor in fear they’d let down all the king’s horses and all the king’s men to catch me. Hell with the boxes, I jumped behind the first drape and, surprisingly, stood there for the whole forever. And screamed my bum away when Hecta and Neshka pounced at me out of the blue. ‘Where on Earth ‘ve you been!’ Agnieszka cried.
‘Just here!’ I lied my socks off.
‘And what’s this?’ Hecta took a nylon stocking off my shoulder that lovingly hugged me around the neck. What would you say to that, Dad? Surely not the truth.
Your Hiding Master, Skipper
35 notes
·
View notes
Book Review: Breaking Dawn
Book Review: Breaking Dawn
Breaking Dawn (The Twilight Saga, #4)by Stephenie Meyer
4 out of 5 stars
There are so many weird things in this last book of the series. In some ways, it’s absolutely brilliant the way that all the crazy vampire/werewolf magical stuff comes together to bring a satisfactory resolution for each character. And in the moment as you’re reading it, it makes sense. But when you take a step back, it’s…
View On WordPress
2 notes
·
View notes
Wednesday, 8 September
Still reading Oliver Twist. Told Amazons about Daddy’s ban on chocolates in hope they’d smuggle in something sweet. Carmina brought in a full sack of hardtacks and yo-ho-hoed like a boozy pirate in the troubled waters, crunching them one by one, while Hecta mostly dwelled on all the grim and ugly details of the Victorian days >__< (including ghosts, vampires and black masses).
I wish the world went to the drunken fairies and get lost there for good. T_T
Thursday, 9 September
I think I’m already lost. Only it’s no fairy land but the stinking London slums stuffed with TWISTED hopping OLIVES. Dickens is murdering me.
Friday, 10 September
Okay, enough of dramas! I’m officially on the Noble Path to ending all this suffering, yay! ^__^
We studied Buddhism with Mr Ross today, and he said that all-mighty Buddha was not actual God but mega powerful and mega kind human being. And anybody can get free and enlightened in a glimpse of a moment if one really tries and m e d i t a t e s. I think it is quite fortunate to develop into Buddha and know all the answers to the test torturing no books. Besides,
Meditation is super simple. I don’t need to study or eat hardtacks, only sit, WATCH all that run through my mind, EXPERIENCE it without pity or judging and then… LET IT GO.
I tried it and ended up thinking about so many things! What I would play in Sims, how to make a proper doll sweater from Daddy’s sock, Tom tumbling off the sofa knob in his sleep, poor little boy stealing hankies in the London gutters… Then Patrick and his forever running nose. Ow, I shouldn’t think about Patrick. If I think about Patrick, I can hardly concentrate on anything but then, suddenly, oh dear, I miss you, chocolate!
Read more from Agnieszka diary!
30 notes
·
View notes
“i must have been real sweet on you,” eddie murmurs as he runs his fingers over his husband’s cheek, sleepy and sated, warm in their bed.
steve chuckles, twisting his head to catch the tips of eddie’s fingers with a kiss. “why are you talking past tense? you’re not sweet on me now?”
the room is peacefully still. years of baby monitors are long gone only to inevitably give way to their daughter’s teenage years of slamming doors and too loud stereo speakers. but in this moment, with the pale moonlight streaming in through the windows and crickets chirping in the distance, the room is peaceful, thick with love.
“quit your pouting, ‘course i’m sweet on you now.” eddie wipes away steve’s fake frown with a kiss, turning it into a sticky sweet grin. “it’s just something my mom used to tell me. that freckles are all the places your soulmate in a past life kissed you.”
eddie pushes steve back so he’s laying flat on the mattress and dips his head to press featherlight kisses on the side of his neck. across his shoulders. over his cheeks. his fingertips flutter over the spots afterwards, leaving goosebumps in their wake despite the heat radiating between them.
“must have loved you a whole lot in our last lives to leave so many on you now,” eddie whispers, pulling back to stroke the back of his hand over steve’s face once more, letting his lips curl up in a dopey half smile that only steve ever gets to see.
it doesn’t take long for steve to tilt his head up and press kisses of his own where he can; under eddie’s eye, the bottom of his chin, right over his heart. it doesn’t take long for eddie to giggle as his sensitive spots are found and attacked with ticklish kisses and fluttering eyelashes. it doesn’t take long for their legs to tangle together underneath the sheets and their breaths to get caught in their chests and their hearts to start beating a beautiful melody of their own making.
steve lays a firm kiss to the side of eddie’s chest, over jagged white scarring and half bitten away tattoos. over memories that somehow don’t haunt them as much anymore.
“what was that one for?” eddie asks, eyes half lidded, the adoration in his voice loud across the quiet room.
another kiss on another scar. “wanna give you some freckles. for your next life and for this one, too. so you know just how sweet on you I am-” kiss, “ -and was-” kiss, “- and forever will be.”
they won’t know for however many more years if it worked or not. but here in this lifetime, they have all the time in the world to try their damndest to make sure it does. in this lifetime, they don’t have to worry, because they know they’ll find each other in the next one.
1K notes
·
View notes