I figured I owed you lot an update.
So my new short story (and if this shows up again in fours months to be looked at for my Intro to Fictional Writing class, you never saw it before, okay?) is a little weird. I'm literally only two paragraphs in and the whole thing keeps shifting around, plotwise. The narrator changed from Big Sister to Little Sister (there are no names yet, although I'm taking suggestions, especially for Erik, who is currently dubbed "Erik" for no reason at all), who ends up being wrong has changed twice...
Anyway. I suspect this is my version of a children's story. By "my version" I mean twisted. Remember my fairytale, A Place Called Clapboard Tree?
The Unicorn Defense
My sister is only nine months older than me. When I say nine months, I mean nine months to the day. Once I was old enough to understand the implications of this, it gave me a bit of a skewed outlook on the world. Either she was such a perfect child from the second she was born that they instantly wanted another one, or she was so horrible from the get-go that they wanted to try to fix their mistake as quickly as humanly possible.
Mine is the latter theory. Hers is the oft-proclaimed former, and she was not at all pleased when I explained mine to her at the age of eight. I made sure to tell her when we were outside and within a few feet of the climbing tree, so that when she screamed for Erik to charge me I'd be able to get out of the way in time. It was hard for him to get up trees, as I remember; something to do with hooves not being suited to grabbing branches. His legs were plenty long enough for him to leap and catch me if I didn't move fast, though.
I still believed in Erik then.
Anyway. I suspect this is my version of a children's story. By "my version" I mean twisted. Remember my fairytale, A Place Called Clapboard Tree?
The Unicorn Defense
My sister is only nine months older than me. When I say nine months, I mean nine months to the day. Once I was old enough to understand the implications of this, it gave me a bit of a skewed outlook on the world. Either she was such a perfect child from the second she was born that they instantly wanted another one, or she was so horrible from the get-go that they wanted to try to fix their mistake as quickly as humanly possible.
Mine is the latter theory. Hers is the oft-proclaimed former, and she was not at all pleased when I explained mine to her at the age of eight. I made sure to tell her when we were outside and within a few feet of the climbing tree, so that when she screamed for Erik to charge me I'd be able to get out of the way in time. It was hard for him to get up trees, as I remember; something to do with hooves not being suited to grabbing branches. His legs were plenty long enough for him to leap and catch me if I didn't move fast, though.
I still believed in Erik then.