"Do thy worst old Time; despite thy wrong, my love shall in my verse ever live young"
-William Shakespeare
A little girl of 5 years with cropped blonde hair sprinted as fast as she could around the corner. looking around frantically she knew she didn't have much time, as the footsteps came quicker and louder she dove into a bush and tried not to breath so loudly. She could just make him out through the branches and it seemed he was looking right at her. What was it about him that made her run for her life when he came bounding towards her? she knew he wouldn't hurt her, but as she had never stuck around to find out what would happen if she didnt run, she decided this time wasn't the time to start.
She suddenly became aware of her hair being stuck on a twig and she tried to free herself as quietly as possible. A sharp resonating pain shot through her foot and on impact she breathed in loudly. He had found her. angry at herself for giving her position away, she screamed. the branches covering her were pulled away as he reached in and carried her into the open. he started to tickle her and in self defense she kicked as hard as she could. He grabbed her foot, but when usually he would have twisted it, he stopped. He told her to relax and that this wouldn't hurt, completely confused she complied. 'one....' 'OUCH!' 'two three' Grabbing her foot and readying herself for combat she leaped up. as she drew her free arm back to strike he presented her with a small, brown, sharp object. She took it, a thorn, of course, she had lost count of the times she had pierced her foot with a thorn. She smiled, he would always take care of her and she knew it.
A window from the house opened and there stood a woman not fit for country life, she belonged in a city, and she knew it. Every day she cursed the moment her and her husband decided to move down here, she pleaded temporary insanity brought on by pregnancy. But now 5 years later she still woke up in the same bed. 'Bath time' came her strict, but playful voice. The little girl looked up at her brother, he was only 5 years older than her, but to her he was a God, in her eyes he had the power to make that bath never happen, after all, he was 10. Reacting to her look he spoke steadily to his mother 'five more minutes' hw barterd 'three more minutes' he looked back at his sister, she was adoring and he knew if he settled for three minutes she would begin to realize he wasn't all she thought he was. he wouldn't let that happen, after all, he was all that. '4 minutes' he said, determined '4 minutes and thats final' came the response. He smiled as the door shut. It was just the two of them again, with 4 more minutes of freedom.
She began to spin, he had told her that if she looked at the floor when she span she would get dizzier quicker, ever sinse then she didnt dream of looking up. His hand on her shoulder stopped her. as her vision cleared she accepted the stick he held out to her. He had found it over by the tree with the swing, she smiled, recently the sticks her picked out for her were stronger, and longer, that must mean she was getting better. Of course he kept their fathers walking stick for himself....after all, he was the master.
It was bitterly cold, and looked close to raining, her fingers were numb, but she was going to make the most of the remaining three minutes. They bowed and began to hit each other with their weapons. of course they would not actually beat each other with sticks. It was more making themselves look cool, and like ninjas. he was winning...again. She knew she couldn't beat him, but that didnt upset her, she only aspired to be just like him. To fight with her fathers walking stick, to feel the rounded edge as she prepared herself. in her mind he would be fighting with his own walking stick...not because he needed one, but because he had decided she was good enough to use his, and of course he couldn't fight without a stick and so he had bought himself a new one.
Little did she know that in two years at most he would grow out of their childish games. he would make her sleep in her own room, she would have no one to hide in the bushes from, and she would be left to practise her fighting alone. But in her young mind they would always play these games, always share a bed, always sit down to dinner opposite each other and she would always smile with pride as her brother, her idol, told their parents how she was growing, running faster and fighting better.
The four minutes were up, and they raced each other up the stairs and into the bath, he won, of course. He would always win. As the bath water turned brown from the dirt collected during the day, she relaxed. she was happy. She would always stay there, in that house, in that country, in that world.
A little girl of 5 years with cropped blonde hair sprinted as fast as she could around the corner. looking around frantically she knew she didn't have much time, as the footsteps came quicker and louder she dove into a bush and tried not to breath so loudly. She could just make him out through the branches and it seemed he was looking right at her. What was it about him that made her run for her life when he came bounding towards her? she knew he wouldn't hurt her, but as she had never stuck around to find out what would happen if she didnt run, she decided this time wasn't the time to start.
She suddenly became aware of her hair being stuck on a twig and she tried to free herself as quietly as possible. A sharp resonating pain shot through her foot and on impact she breathed in loudly. He had found her. angry at herself for giving her position away, she screamed. the branches covering her were pulled away as he reached in and carried her into the open. he started to tickle her and in self defense she kicked as hard as she could. He grabbed her foot, but when usually he would have twisted it, he stopped. He told her to relax and that this wouldn't hurt, completely confused she complied. 'one....' 'OUCH!' 'two three' Grabbing her foot and readying herself for combat she leaped up. as she drew her free arm back to strike he presented her with a small, brown, sharp object. She took it, a thorn, of course, she had lost count of the times she had pierced her foot with a thorn. She smiled, he would always take care of her and she knew it.
A window from the house opened and there stood a woman not fit for country life, she belonged in a city, and she knew it. Every day she cursed the moment her and her husband decided to move down here, she pleaded temporary insanity brought on by pregnancy. But now 5 years later she still woke up in the same bed. 'Bath time' came her strict, but playful voice. The little girl looked up at her brother, he was only 5 years older than her, but to her he was a God, in her eyes he had the power to make that bath never happen, after all, he was 10. Reacting to her look he spoke steadily to his mother 'five more minutes' hw barterd 'three more minutes' he looked back at his sister, she was adoring and he knew if he settled for three minutes she would begin to realize he wasn't all she thought he was. he wouldn't let that happen, after all, he was all that. '4 minutes' he said, determined '4 minutes and thats final' came the response. He smiled as the door shut. It was just the two of them again, with 4 more minutes of freedom.
She began to spin, he had told her that if she looked at the floor when she span she would get dizzier quicker, ever sinse then she didnt dream of looking up. His hand on her shoulder stopped her. as her vision cleared she accepted the stick he held out to her. He had found it over by the tree with the swing, she smiled, recently the sticks her picked out for her were stronger, and longer, that must mean she was getting better. Of course he kept their fathers walking stick for himself....after all, he was the master.
It was bitterly cold, and looked close to raining, her fingers were numb, but she was going to make the most of the remaining three minutes. They bowed and began to hit each other with their weapons. of course they would not actually beat each other with sticks. It was more making themselves look cool, and like ninjas. he was winning...again. She knew she couldn't beat him, but that didnt upset her, she only aspired to be just like him. To fight with her fathers walking stick, to feel the rounded edge as she prepared herself. in her mind he would be fighting with his own walking stick...not because he needed one, but because he had decided she was good enough to use his, and of course he couldn't fight without a stick and so he had bought himself a new one.
Little did she know that in two years at most he would grow out of their childish games. he would make her sleep in her own room, she would have no one to hide in the bushes from, and she would be left to practise her fighting alone. But in her young mind they would always play these games, always share a bed, always sit down to dinner opposite each other and she would always smile with pride as her brother, her idol, told their parents how she was growing, running faster and fighting better.
The four minutes were up, and they raced each other up the stairs and into the bath, he won, of course. He would always win. As the bath water turned brown from the dirt collected during the day, she relaxed. she was happy. She would always stay there, in that house, in that country, in that world.
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