Mango No.5
Author: Jai
Challenges: Mango No.5 ("It's All Your Fault")
Title: I Hate You
Story: Lus' Story
Rating: G
Summary: Lus makes a visit.
A/N: More for you! The Crazy is back! Not completely happy with this, but, eh. Poked at it too much.
It was April, and Lus was standing in a graveyard. (Why hadn't they died in a month more suited to standing in Graveyards?) He was standing in front of a pair of graves, with simple headstones. Two Love-Tenners, side by side in a graveyard on a sunny day.
Lus sat down heavily on the ground, and glared at the headstones. (Such stupid things written on them, why did they write that?) He loved his parents. Mom was amazing. She made banana bread. Dad was always looking out for him. Dad had bought him a baseball. And marbles. And crayons, and pencils and markers.
"I hate you."
He stood, turned around, hands fisted at his sides, and left the plot. He walked carefully through the graveyard, where he knew he would never be interred. It just wasn't in the cards. He put one hand into the pocket of his coat and pulled out a slim silver instrument. The sun caught at the blade, and glinted sharply.
Challenges: Mango No.5 ("It's All Your Fault")
Title: I Hate You
Story: Lus' Story
Rating: G
Summary: Lus makes a visit.
A/N: More for you! The Crazy is back! Not completely happy with this, but, eh. Poked at it too much.
It was April, and Lus was standing in a graveyard. (Why hadn't they died in a month more suited to standing in Graveyards?) He was standing in front of a pair of graves, with simple headstones. Two Love-Tenners, side by side in a graveyard on a sunny day.
Lus sat down heavily on the ground, and glared at the headstones. (Such stupid things written on them, why did they write that?) He loved his parents. Mom was amazing. She made banana bread. Dad was always looking out for him. Dad had bought him a baseball. And marbles. And crayons, and pencils and markers.
"I hate you."
He stood, turned around, hands fisted at his sides, and left the plot. He walked carefully through the graveyard, where he knew he would never be interred. It just wasn't in the cards. He put one hand into the pocket of his coat and pulled out a slim silver instrument. The sun caught at the blade, and glinted sharply.