Pure Chaos

Cursvember

I can always tell when my birthday is coming, even if I don't know the date. I wish we could skip the entire month of November. This year for my birthday, I've got a pulled muscle in my chest, which makes it really hard to do anything. I also have a kid staring over my shoulder reading along. Funny how that always makes them leave when you write something about them.

Anyway, most of my birthdays have been spent in hospitals. Not always for me though. Two of my kids have had stitches on my birthday. I've been really sick, had family members and animals die, and been hurt pretty bad. It all makes me want to bubble wrap everyone I know to their beds for the month, but none of them will submit to my will for a month. They always start going on about how they have to go to work/school.

It's strange that this has been going on my entire life and I only realized I was cursed a few years ago. I got to thinking about how many stupid things have happened on my birthday. Car accidents, concussions and alcohol poisoning (oops). I've considered writing a story about it, but I never seem to get very far with the plot. I mean, what is the point? Maybe I should fear getting older more, I don't know. It seems like everyone around me is always quite a bit older so complaining about my age is just pointless.

As far as my writing goes, I haven't gotten very far. I did expand a little on chapter one of Tainted, but other than that, I'm still in blahville.

Here's something I was toying with. It's not Tainted or anything I should be working on. In fact, I'm not sure what it is. Hmm...

Light shimmered around me, casting a rainbow of colors in my vision. It was strange to see something so beautiful in a moment of panic. My hand lifted, involuntarily, from my side, reaching out to feel the sunlight, something I hadn’t felt in so many months. A sob clogged my throat, making it impossible to breathe. Tears streamed down my cheeks, no doubt carving away the dirt that littered my face.

“I said don’t move.” The voice was harsh, filled with hatred. “You would be dead already if it weren’t for the children.”

It took every bit of nerve I had, but I managed to pull my eyes from the shimmer of light cascading over me. The children? There were no children with me. As unusual as it was, I was alone. I stared at the man, gauging for the first time, that he was more afraid than I was. Sweat poured from his brow, though the air was cool here in these caves. It was one reason I chose this place. His first bullet had blown a hole through the ceiling above me, straight through a solid foot of rock. I hated to think what the bullet would do to my pale, light deprived flesh, so I ignored that thought that lingered in the back of my mind. I knew I would be in this position one day. It was inevitable.

His eyes were like liquid silver, hiding just under the fringe of messy brown hair. They glared at me from behind the gun. His skin was a deep brown, proof he lived under the sun. I studied him quietly, my hand still lingering in front of me, basking in the heat. His clothes were old, tattered and dirty. Though he looked strong, he also looked under fed. Not at all what I expected from an outsider. I also figured they would shoot me at first sight, children or no children. There was another telltale sign that marked him for what he was in those balls of liquid silver that stared at me with so much pain, hatred, and fear. His pupil was round.