Oooh. I'd like to compete for Stalker.
But I cannot draw worth anything. So I offer a piece of fiction, newly written by me just now.
I am proud of my daughter.
At first today she was nothing but trouble. She cried and screamed and kicked her shoes off so hard the left one flew across the room and broke my lamp.
I had to hold my breath before I could count to ten. Hold my breath and shush her, hold her and calm her and make sure that she wouldn't do something worse when I went to get her shoes, went to unplug the lamp so the broken bulb couldn't spark and set my room afire.
Then I counted to ten, over and over as I cleaned up the broken bulb, the broken glass shade, and wiped every speck of glass shard off first her left shoe, then the right. Placed them then, so nice, so neat, beside her and ready for when it was time to go outside again.
She didn't thank me. She was still in the throes of her last sobs, still drumming her heels against the floor in a terrific tantrum. Sometimes my daughter seems more like a terrible two than the twenty-something adult I know she is.
She was so scared and embarrassed that I sat down beside her shoes and waited for a moment, holding my breath again in sympathy and sorrow as she started to relax. I reached out to brush her damp hair from her forehead, but had to stop as she opened her mouth so wide, so very wide.
Sure she wasn't going to start screaming again, but what was she doing; was my darling girl trying to bite me? She was, she really was. So I let her, faster than she could bite I pushed the side of my wrist into her mouth. My wrist was deeper than she'd have wanted for biting, and I pushed it a bit further until her eyes went wider, her lips stretched by her open mouth, her jaws gaped enough to gag her.
"Don't," I said. "Just don't. I want to be proud of you." Then I took my wrist from her mouth. The emotion in her eyes was weaker now, and she was struggling to sit up so I helped her.
"Good," I said. "That's better. Control yourself." She shook her head, all of her shaking a bit as her body started to calm. "Better," I said, again brushing her damp hair from her forehead. This time she didn't mind, merely curled against my side, her head turning as if for a moment she still wanted to bite me but her lips staying closed. "Perfect," I said.
I felt so proud as I watched her conquer her fear and rage and hope and hatred, as her eyes grew steady and her body stilled. So proud of my precious girl and her commitment to me, her power over emotion and life.
I couldn't hold my breath as long as her now, but I tried. When she was ready I helped put her shoes back on, then we stood up and went outside.
Her twenty three perfect sisters are waiting to join her, all as proud of her as I am. Later, after I've slept and showered, it'll be time to bring the next one home.
If this tale is unclear (it's told from a specific viewpoint) I'll happily add an out of character explanation of what happened in the story.
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Topic: Three-game Giveaway: CLOSED: Congrats Imp, Naxza, and Girlinhat! (Read 3290 times)