Fiction

Eleven

Hello.

Hello.

Hello.

Welcome to Aldridge Palace, where life is a game, a performance.

Ten

Ten

Ugly.

Ugly.

Ugly.

Nine

Grief.

Grief.

Grief.

Yes, I’ll blame it on the grief. 

It’s the grief that’s preventing me from feeling hate.

Eight

Words,

Words,

Words.

Seven 

Everything 

Everything

Everything

is a blur.

"Where did I put my nuts?" I cry as the parade of daily dogs rolls by "Where could they possibly be?" Growler trots up to my tree, a concerned look on his face "You lose your marbles, Joey?" "NUTS!

When you see a fork in the road what do you do? Go left? Go right? Or ruin the story by standing there and thinking about which way to go then turning around and going home?

Six

Maroon is the color of blood.

Maroon is the color of blood.

Maroon is the color of blood. 

Well, sometimes it is.

Five

Let me out.

Let me out.

Let me out.

Just when I think dinner couldn't get worse, along comes the treaty signing. 

Four

This is not awkward.

This is not awkward.

This is not awkward.

Three

Perfection.

Perfection.

Perfection.

Yes, that's what's required of me. 

I hate it.

Two

I do not want to be here. 

I do not want to be here.

I do not want to be here,

at the palace of the Aldridge family.