Briar King, on 23 April 2019 - 03:03 AM, said:
And my dumb ass didn't put on sun screen while in the boat so my knee caps(jeans are blown out on both) are bright red and on fire. Idiot!
Another concussion – ducking still lower, Pella looked back up at the opposite window—
To see, momentarily, a single flash—
—to feel the shock of surprise—
—as the arrow sped at him. A hard, splintering cracking sound. Pella's head was thrown back, helm crunching against the wall. Something, wavering, at the upper edge of his vision, but those edges were growing darker. He heard his crossbow clatter to the cobbles at his feet, then distant pain as his knees struck the stones, the jolt peeling skin away – he'd done that once, as a child, playing in the alley. Stumbling, knees skidding on gritty, filthy cobbles—
So filthy, the murk of hidden diseases, infections – his mother had been so angry, angry and frightened. They'd had to go to a healer, and that had cost money – money they had been saving for a move. To a better part of the slum. The dream ... put away, all because he'd skinned his knees.
Just like now. And darkness closing in.
Oh Momma, I skinned my knees. I'm sorry, I'm so sorry. I skinned my knees ...
Yesterday, upon the stair, I saw a man who wasn't there. He wasn't there again today. Oh, how I wish he'd go away.