Short Story @ MindSay 
writing
Wendy and Jacob were smiling as their baby crawled across the floor.
The relatives were filing in and grandma stood at the door.
Their little boy Dusty opened his present, a fluffy teddy bear in a bow-tie suit.
Jake's cousin Brian had shot his first pheasant, their Christmas dinner was won in pursuit.
They all sang their carols across the town and drank lots of eggnog and wine.
That one Christmas was without a frown, and Jake's cancer was supposedly benign.
---
Wendy sits in the living room, sighing, as her little boy watches T.V.
Wendy's head hits the table, crying, and Dusty tilts his head to see.
"Mommy why are you sighing?"
"Dusty, just watch TV"
"Mommy why are you crying?"
"Honey, Just let it be"
Dusty held up his old toy teddy bear, to show it had been torn.
Wendy knew life wasn't fair, and that old toy was worn,
But she couldn't afford to buy him a new one and she didn't know how to sew.
In just three week's Jacob would be done, and there'd be no more chemo.
---
The policewoman held Dusty from his mother, and she lied cold on the floor.
Some dirty pimp had smothered her, and on her chest carved the word "Whore!".
Without Jacob around and his 6 figure job, she just couldn't pay for food or rent.
As the coroner came Dusty continued to sob and policemen came and went.
He was driven to his cousin's when his aunt came up, but he begged for his old teddy bear.
It was covered in blood and she had to say, "Dusty, it has to stay there"
He screamed and he hollered and he pounded and he shouted, and he asked, "Why does it happen to me?"
As his aunt looked back to console him she doubted that he'd ever believe this the land of the free.
However, as the years went by, he began to notice something: over time, some of the trees had begun to wither and die, no longer producing the fruit that he depended on. There were still enough living trees to feed him well, but the man became concerned - for, if this trend were to continue, would he not starve to death at some point in the future?
One day, acting on little more than impulse, the man decided that he had to do something. Walking towards the cliff-face, he decided he would jump into the ocean below - this way, by his reckoning, he could escape before all the trees died, and possibly swim to another island with a never-ending supply of food.
So, leap he did - but he didn't reach the ocean as he had intended. Jutting out some meters below the cliff's edge was a small ledge, and it was upon this that he landed. There still remained a substantial drop to the water, and the man started to panic about the fate that he was committing himself to: possible death from the fall; or the potentiality of drowning in the depths below. He became nostalgic for the home that he had left, and began to realise how good his life had been. The thought of losing that made him shake with fear, and with no further ado, he began to climb the rocky cliff-face back up to level ground.
Clambering over the edge at last, the man felt pure relief, combined with contentment because he had not acted on his impulsive decision to leave. He felt safe in the knowledge that such foolishness would never cross his mind again.
Two weeks later, the last tree died.
It was a place we all knew, in a time that was not too far from present day. People were shopping, but the world was on edge. They knew that the end was near, they could feel it in their weary souls. People trudged along slowly, living life, and coping with the fear as best as they could. Children were still excited about the holidays, traditions that had never grown as old as the world itself. The sun never set anymore. It was constantly daylight, an eternal dusty sunset.
There were no more countries in this dying world. The world was controlled by a singular form of government that controlled all aspects, from money to population control. Its two biggest departments were its military and its research and development, where vast advances in both sections were being made each day, especially with biological warfare. Everyone in the world now had a chip implanted in them at birth, and all of their information was recorded in The Government's databases. This enabled them to track anyone, at any time, anywhere in the world.
The R&D department even managed to create the VicaRose doll. It enabled its surgeons to do surgery through a synthetic doll. As long the person's information in the chip was pulled up on screen, surgery could be carried out remotely --vicariously-- through the doll. There was a small plug on the base of the neck, so that the doll could be connected to the computer. Of course, this also lead to experiments and surgeries on random people, none of which the government owned up to.
The surgery could occur at anytime, anywhere. Officially, a person wouldn't have surgery unless they were at a designated care center / medical facility and had been given the proper anesthetic. This was The Government's official stance on that policy.
That day, I was headed to a friend's house. It was her birthday, and I thought I would bake her a cake. The road construction was bad, however, and as soon as I got on the highway, I had to get off. I was detoured, on the access road that lead to a bridge, and stopped before a great chasm. There was a metal grate bridging the gap on the far left side, jutting out from the side of the concrete barrier. It was wide enough for a car to travel across, as long as it was just one vehicle at a time.
My car, somehow, ended up pointed back in the direction of the highway, and I knew I was being targeted. How I knew that.. I couldn't tell you. I don't know what it was, what I did to incur the wrath of The Government, but I can tell you that it was hell to escape. I knew I had to get over to the other side of the bridge, so I got out of my car and ran to the nearest vehicle, a maroon Chevy suburban. There were five girls inside; two in the front and three in the back. I climbed into the backseat with them and told them that we could make it across the gap if they just drove slowly along the metal grate.
The Government must have found me then, because, at that moment, the girl that I was sitting next to started screaming in pain. Blood gushed out of her right arm, and sprayed a warm stream across the back seat. All I can remember is a coppery smell lingering in the air, amid screams. I looked at her bare upper arm, and saw a neat rectangle, two inches by four inches, cut into her skin, exposing the bone underneath. I jumped out of the suburban and ran into another one, a blue one this time. There were five guys in their mid-20s. They were discussing what the best detour would be in order to get to the other side. I told them to drive along the grate, urged them to hurry because they were coming after me.
"They?" they questioned me.
"Yes, 'They', The Government, they're after me, I have to get to the other side, please, you have to help me!" I shouted. They sat in silence for a few seconds before the driver backed the vehicle up and manuevered it near the edge of the grating.
"Be careful," I urged anxiously. One small jerk of the wheel could send a tire hanging off of the grating and make us dangerously unbalanced. We would never be able to get the tire back onto the grating, and we would never be able to get out without killing someone. There wouldn't be enough weight in the vehicle to keep it grounded.
We drove onto the grating with baited breath, waiting for it to collapse and plunge us into a deep and fiery death, down below in the waste and ruin of the world forgotten. The metal creaked and groaned under our weight, but grudgingly supported us. We inched our way across, all of us looking around, with eyes as wide as a raccoon that has been caught digging in the trash cans.
The middle of the chasm was the weakest point, and I actually thought that the metal was buckling under the weight of the suburban, but we made it past that without any difficulties. It was when we were nearing the end that things took a turn for the worse.
The maroon suburban had seen us crossing, and they pulled onto the thin bridge. I scrambled over the back seat, into the cargo area and told the driver to release the back door of the vehicle. It clicked open, and I lifted it up, and shouted at them to wait, wait until we were across. I could see the fear in their eyes, and the blood trailing down the inside of the girls' windshield. They must have gotten a hold of another girl.
I screamed at them to stop, that the bridge wouldn't be able to support us, they needed to reverse and wait until we were across. An audible groan sounded, and part of the concrete barrier cracked.
"Stop!" I shouted to them again. "Stop there and wait, please wait!" I yelled. "It's too much, you have to stop!" The girl, however, put more pressure on the gas pedal and started to steadily accelerate. She was anxious to reach us, to get to the other side, to be with other people, to have them tell her everything was going to be all right.
A horrible groan escaped at that point, and the makeshift bridge tilted. I looked behind me, at the guy driving the vehicle and saw his wide eyes reflected in the rear view mirror.
"Go!" I shouted, and he punched the pedal down to the floor. I held on to the back seat as our bodies were pushed back roughly from the force of our acceleration, and nearly lost my damn grip, but we made it across just in time. As soon as the back tires were touching the paved road again, the bridge collapsed, and the maroon suburban carrying those five girls plummeted down into the dark depths below. I can still hear them screaming when I close my eyes.
The suburban screeched to a halt, and everyone got out. I climbed out of the back and we stood at the edge, looking down. Their suburban was smashed beyond anything recognizable, and what was left of the engine was on fire. They weren't screaming anymore, those girls. There was no movement at all.
"I told them to stop," I whispered as tears welled up in my eyes. The driver pulled me into an awkward embrace and we stood there, six strangers forced together in an instant, a strange twist of fate, looking at the destruction below us. I knew The Government had stopped searching for me for the time being, but who knew when the next time would come? Who knew what we would have to sacrifice for our freedom?
by Brandon J. Perkins
"I'm sorry!" Kim said, as tears streamed from her unseeing eyes, "I didn't mean to make you mad!" She felt a sharp sting, as the knife slashed across her side. She yelped in pain, and crouched as if to shield herself. But it was no use. The knife slashed across her face, cutting deeply. She screamed again, and was answered by only laughter. "Why are you doing this to me?" Kim cried. No answer. She lashed out, futiley trying to hit her attacker. Again the blade cut her, this time on the back. She fell on the ground.
"Time for you to die, bitch!" a male voice yelled gruffly. Violently the man grabbed her, and threw her against the wall. She began to cry out again, but the knife plunged into her throat, and she felt nothing more.
Carlos set down his knife and stood, his shirtless, muscular body wet with blood. "God, that was good," he said.
Three Weeks Later
Ian sat in the park, admiring the feel of a summer breeze across his face, and the grass between his feet. Nearby, a couple sat, happily laughing and talking, and a man played frisbee with his dog. Ian didn't see this though. He heard it. That was what you had to do, when you were blind. Learn to use your ears. Let your other senses take over. He remembered a movie that a friend had told him about. In it was a blind swordsman, who had used bright light to blind his enemies, and then defeat them. Their sight was their weakness. He had sort of adopted that as his own personal philosophy. Don't think of it as a weakness. Think of it as a hidden strength. His thought were interrupted as he heard someone sit down next to him.
"Hello," a pleasant female voice said.
"Hi," he replied.
"What's your name?"
"Ian," he said, "What's yours?"
"I'm Alice," she replied.
"How are you today, Alice?"
"I'm doing great. Actually, I just saw you sitting over here, with your walking stick and all, and thought I'd give you a ride back to your house, if you'd like." Ian thought for a moment.
"Alright," he said, "on one condition."
"What's that?" Alice asked.
"Don't give me a ride out of pity. Give me a ride just cause you're a nice person." Alice laughed. She had a very pleasant laugh, I an thought to himself.
"What's wrong with having pity on someone?" Alice asked.
"Oh, there's nothing wrong with pity, nothing at all," Ian responded, "But I don't feel that I need pity. I don't feel that I have a weakness, so therefore, I have no need for pity." Silence. Then Alice spoke.
"That's amazing," Alice said, "You're really an incredible person, aren't you?"
"Nah," Ian said, blushing slightly, "I'm just an ordinary guy, doing what I have to."
"And he's modest!" Alice exclaimed, "Why couldn't I have met a guy like you a long time ago?" Ian turned his head in the direction of her voice, and raised an eyebrow.
"Is that a pick- up line?" he asked, grinning. He could sense Alice blushing.
"Yeah, I guess so. I dunno, it just sorta slipped out."
"No need to apologize," Ian said, "I'm flattered."
"Really?" Alice asked.
"Yeah, I need the ego boost. Most girls feel too sorry for me to come up and talk to me."
"You're single?" Alice said surprisedly.
"Oh, hell yeah. I've been single for like a year. You sounded surprised to hear me say that. How come?"
"Well, you're really cute."
"Well, I guess having a blind boyfriend is a turnoff for most girls," Ian said.
"Not for me," Alice replied, "at least then you know your guy isn't looking at other girls." Ian laughed.
"That was good, I'll have to remember that," he chuckled. "So," Alice said, "would you, maybe, wanna go have some coffee sometime?" Ian smiled. "I'd like that."
"Well, I should probably drop you off, and then go home."
"Ok," Ian said. They made their way over to her car, and she helped him in.
"Alright," he said, "go up to 23rd street, take a right, go three blocks, take a left, and my house is the first one on the right."
"Ok," Alice said, as she started the car, and put it in gear. As they drove, Alice turned on the radio.
"In other news," the announcer said, "there have been no leads in the stabbing death of Kimberly Westerfield. The blind 17 year old was found in a dumpster, stabbed to death. Police believe she is the fifth victim of an apparent serial killer, who appears to choose his victims based on the fact that they are blind, however she is the first female victim. Police chief Daniel Starke stressed that they are working day and night to solve this case, but at present, have very few leads. If you have any information about this crime, please contact-" Alice shut the radio off.
"Horrible, just horrible," she said, "what kind of monster would do that?"
"Yeah, it's a shame," Ian said.
"Are you scared of that guy?" Alice said.
"Sort of," Ian replied, "but I figure I'd at least put up one hell of a fight. Who knows, I might win." He grinned.
"Well, here we are," Alice said.
"Thanks," Ian said.
"So, when do you wanna get together?" Alice asked.
"How about tomorrow, if you're free?" Ian said, after thinking for a moment, "You know where I live, so just come by around three, and we'll get together."
"Sounds good," Alice said. She reached over, and gave him a peck on the cheek. Ian blushed.
"Well, I'll see you tomorrow then," he said, as he got out and closed the door.
"Ok, see you then," Alice yelled, as she drove away. Ian whistled happily as he walked inside.
Alice picked Ian up at three o' clock sharp.
"What would you like to do?" She asked.
"I have no idea. It's totally up to you."
"I dunno, I guess we could go watch movies at my house, or something."
Ian smiled.
"Oh God, I'm sorry!" Alice cried, "I'm so stupid! I just forgot, that you were, you know-"
"Don't worry about it," Ian said laughing, "that would be great. I love movies."
"I still feel stupid," Alice said.
"Well don't, it happens," he replied. They arrived at her house, and went inside. Alice put in a movie.
"I'm gonna make some popcorn," she said.
"Mmm! Sounds good to me," Ian said happily. Alice put some popcorn in the microwave, then headed into her bedroom.
"He's here," she said to Carlos. Carlos smiled.
The microwave beeped, and Alice got up, to get the popcorn. She returned, and gave it to Ian. Carlos came out of the bedroom and on a second couch.
"I'll be right back," Alice said to Ian. She moved over to the second couch. Carlos lifted up her dress, and took off her panties. Then his fingers went between her thighs. Alice's eyes closed in ecstacy. She could barely keep from moaning. Then, Carlos took off his pants, and penetrated her. She gasped quietly. She didn't think Ian had heard her, but that was half the fun, thinking you might get caught. Carlos was excited, so it didn't take him long to finish. She pulled up her panties, and he put his pants back on. Then Alice composed herself.
"Sorry I took so long," she said, sitting down next to Ian. Carlos could barely keep from snickering.
"No problemo," Ian said, smiling in her general direction. They continued watching the movie. Alice put her hand on Ian's knee. She moved her hand slowly up to his groin, caressing the zipper on the front of his pants. Ian didn't seem to mind.
"I'll be right back again, hon," she said coquettishly.
"I'll be here," Ian said softly. She motioned to Carlos, and went into her bedroom. Carlos followed.
"Let's do it now," she said.
"Yeah," Carlos said, grinning sadistically. He pulled his knife from out of a nearby dresser. "I'll fuck with him for awhile," he said, "then you come in. I want you to deliver the killing blow this time."
Alice laughed, "Ah, he'll be so sad."
Carlos snickered. "I hope so," he said. He walked into the living room, closing the door softly behind him.
A few minutes later, Alice emerged. Ian was sitting, watching the movie. She looked around. No sign of Carlos. He's was probably taking a smoke. Or hiding. He liked to drag it out as much as possible. Well, it was time to end this. She walked over to Ian.
"I have a surprise for you," she whispered.
"Me too," he said smiling. Alice pulled out her knife, and moved towards him. Ian looked up at her. Looked at her.
"Surprise!" he snarled, as she gasped in horror, "I'm not blind!" She started forward, but was stopped by the sight of a .357 Magnum.
"Where's Carlos?" Alice asked, trembling.
"Carlos? Your big, strong man?" Ian yelled. He motioned to the floor behind the couch. There was Carlos, staring up with empty eyes, his neck bent at an impossible angle. Alice screamed.
"Surprise number two!" Ian said. He raised the gun.
"Wait!" Alice shouted, "How did you do that? I mean, I could have sworn you were blind! How did you do it? Were you... were you blind once?"
"Surprise number three," Ian said. Then he smiled, a smile that did not touch his ice-cold eyes. "No, I was never blind." Then his smile faded, into a look of pure hatred. "But my sister... Kim... was."
Alice didn't even have time to scream, as every single bullet ripped through her brain.
The End
As the sirens began to wail, I froze on the spot. Everybody in the hall did. I took one last look around at the occupants of the room, dressed in their formal dance gowns and evening wear, before the lights died. Left in absolute darkness, I shivered. In another second, the music died. A bad sign.
I felt Dimitri’s reassuring hands clasped around my own, frozen as I was in mid dance. Turning back to face him, I could barely make out his features through the pitch black that had enclosed us. His outline, however, was clearly visible against the soft stream of natural light that slipped in through the circular window in the centre of the ceiling.
‘Stay calm,’ he said firmly. ‘Everything will be all right.’
We could all hear the jets getting closer overhead; the noisy drone of their engines was unmistakable these days. You could always hear them. Always off in the distance, always just out of sight, waiting for someone to slip…
The soft mumble of speech around the hall began to meet my ears, and I wondered for a second if anybody had seen this coming. From the fact that nobody seemed to be moving I guessed not…
‘Get ready…’ His voice in my ear again, barely louder than the hum of the fast approaching aircrafts.
We saw the lights a split second before the jets became visible through the window in the ceiling. The sounds of shattering glass and people screaming met my ears simultaneously, and the wailing of the sirens outside intensified. Then in a flash we were moving, avoiding the glass shards that rained down on us from above. I moved close to the wall, and quickly Dimitri covered me. I could hear the glass hitting the ground all around us with the sirens wailing loudly still. People screaming, crying, shouting…I knew we hadn’t all made it.
Glancing quickly around the room, I was met by a terrible sight. People lying dead on the floor. Bleeding. Dying. Dead. People I knew. People I trusted. People I loved. All gone in the blink of an eye.
The Resistance was broken.
‘This is terrible,’ I whispered, turning away. ‘How didn’t we see this coming? They’ve never managed to get to us before.’
‘Well, this time they did,’ Dimitri stated, pulling off his suit jacket. He threw it around me, and I knew in that instant that he would leave. He was the best fighter that we had, and he therefore saw it as his duty to defend us all.
‘I suppose nothing I say is going to be able to stop you?’ I asked softly, and Dimitri shook his head.
‘Get the music playing again,’ he said quietly. ‘If you can get the music playing again, we just might stand a chance.’
‘But there are so many of them,’ I suddenly realised. Looking up to the hole in the ceiling that had once been a beautiful window, but now played as an entry for the enemy, we could see the opposition running across the roof as they quickly attempted to assemble the equipment that would enable them to safely reach the floor.
I saw the glint of the silver blade as Dimitri pulled it out of the hidden compartment in his boot; a ripple of light ran across the wall as the overhead spotlights caught the gleaming metal, and I felt a ray of hope. Perhaps he was right…
‘Go,’ Dimitri urged. ‘Get the music playing, and I’ll see you soon.’
‘Stay safe,’ I replied, watching briefly as he turned and ran off into the centre of the room with his blade in hand. He stood alone, the enemy would believe. In reality he was never alone…
I ran off into the darkness, making my way down corridor after corridor in the small mansion that we possessed. Usually I would have known the place like the back of my hand, but due to the sound of agonising screams and the ongoing wailing of the siren, the place felt so different…so alien. I was lost in a place I had for so long called home. The people that I had for so long called family now lay dead or dying on the cold ballroom floor. Others were either running from the house or running back towards the source of the commotion in order to defend those that still remained.
I ran alone up the stairs that would lead to the balcony overlooking the entire dance floor. There, I knew, I would find the controls. On my way up the stairs I grabbed two of the newly formed discs that we had and pocketed them. There was no doubt in my mind that the enemy would have destroyed all of the remaining discs upstairs.
Making it to the balcony, I glanced around for the control panel. Locating it halfway across the room from where it should have been, I ran over to it and switched it back on. I swiftly opened up its compartment, only to find that I had been correct in my assumption that the disc would have been removed and destroyed. Extracting one from the depths of my pocket, I slipped it in and closed the compartment.
‘Not so fast,’ came a soft voice in my ear. A voice that I could recognise as well as my own no matter where I was.
‘Janus,’ I breathed, turning slowly to face my half-brother. He had once been a part of the Resistance with myself, but that was no longer the case.
‘Greetings, Haylie,’ he replied coolly, the blade he held in his hand coming quickly up to my throat. ‘Fancy meeting you here, and with illegal items in your possession, too! What a shame…’
He gently reached over and opened the compartment. I watched as he took the small disc and held it right before my eyes. Single-handedly snapping it clean in half, he allowed the pieces to fall to the floor at my feet. I looked down at them, but could not see the spectrum of light that usually raced flawlessly across its surface.
‘You’re coming with me,’ Janus said. He grabbed me firmly by the arm, still keeping the blade to my throat.
‘What happened to you?’ The question came out barely more than a whisper, but I knew he had heard me. ‘You used to be one of us. You used to make music. Don’t you remember? Don’t you miss it? How could you possibly have forgotten your friends, your family? How could you have forgotten Childish Intentions?’
‘Quiet!’ Janus commanded, his grip tightening painfully. He sneered. ‘I don’t need to listen to you, wench. You’re under arrest, which means you have the right to remain si-’
‘And I refuse that right!’ I cried defiantly. ‘That’s all you people care about these days - silence! You used to hear the music, Janus! You used to be one of us! Now you don’t feel a thing! You’re senseless!’
‘What is it with you?!’ Janus demanded, spinning me around and taking hold of both of my arms. ‘Don’t you understand?! These things that you feel are what will become your undoing!’
‘The fact that we can feel is what makes us truly human!’ I shot back.
‘Why would you want to live that way?’ he asked me. ‘Why would you want to live in a world where people feel hate and anger? Don’t you see that it only leads to war?’
‘But taking away hate and anger means also taking away love and happiness,’ I pointed out. ‘How can you live like that? I’d rather not live life at all…’
‘That can be arranged…’
For a brief moment he only stared at me, and I took that chance to pull out the second disc from my pocket. Cautiously reaching behind him, I silently pulled the compartment open again and slid the disc firmly into place. Shutting the compartment with a silent snap, I groped around on the control panel for that single button which could save us all.
The reaction was instantaneous. The second that I had hit the button, Janus gasped. He dropped the blade as the music met his ears, and instantly his hands shot towards his pockets. I knew he was searching for his earphones - all of the enemy were equipped with them for situations like this. I grabbed both of his hands and removed them from his pockets.
‘Just listen to it,’ I insisted. ‘You know this song. You, after all, helped write it. Don’t you remember?’
‘No…’ Janus shook his head viciously. ‘Stop it…I’m not listening…’
‘Please,’ I insisted. ‘You know this song…don’t you remember what you used to say every time you heard it? “This song brings back memories of the good old times…” And it used to bring tears to your eyes, because those times are never coming back…’
‘Cut it out,’ Janus spat, pulling away from me and backing up. ‘You’ll regret this one day…you know you will…’
‘That’s what you told Billie right after he joined the enemy,’ I said softly, looking into Janus’s eyes, ‘and look at where you are now…’
I saw what was coming before it even happened. Having backed up far enough, Janus turned and ran. I wondered briefly if I would ever see him alive again now that he’d finally cracked. For those who realise that they have wasted their lives away generally feel like they have nothing left, even when in truth they have everything…
Mm...it was another short story that I wrote for English at the beginning of last year. It got full marks, and its one of the very few completed works that I am actually happy with. And just so you know, this isn't plagerised. It's my own work, but you may have seen it on FictionCentral.Net. That's where I have it posted. So if you want to check it our in it's original form...
| Land of Confusion by Haylie Jaed |
It's also on Bebo. If you see it anywhere else, tell me so I can go and kick the perpetrators ass. This work is copyright to me, dammit!! *shakes fist* Anyway...I originally had it posted on FictionCentral under another name, but deleted it and brought it to my current account. It's been up for a day, and the single review that I have coincides with the old ones that I have.
People tend to like it, and pressume that there is an update coming. So I have considered turning Masquerade into a story based on this. In a sense. If I can come up with a storyline that could turn this one-shot into a longer story. Because that's what I'm struggling to do right now.
But it just might be a challenge that I'm up to.
Anyway, for anybody's who's interested, FictionCentral.Net is a website created by the people who founded HarryPotterFanFiction.Com. While HPFF evidently deals with Harry Potter fanfiction stories, FC deals with original compositions - novels, short stories, poems, plays, etc. - and is a great place for new writers and experienced writers to post their works for others to read. It's really worthwhile to check it out. It has less than five-thousand members at the moment, but it will grow I'm sure. Four years ago when I joined HPFF there were just over three-thousand members. Now there's over ten thousand!!
So the sites gain popularity fairly quickly. =) I urge you to give the site a try. It'll be worth your while.
For now, I'm off to see if I can work something out for my new Masquerade. Tell me what you thought of Land of Confusion if you read it. As per usual, criticism is muchly appreciated. Keep in mind I was fifteen when I wrote it, though.
...not that it'll make much difference. Just criticise away!! Catch you all later!!
xoxo
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