anonymous
2009-04-29 20:00:59 UTC
I guess we’ll start on the day our last master died. Before the real beginning of my life. It was pretty warm out for May, but always cold in the basement. And somehow we always wound up with a room in the basement. This one was pretty big though…Jess’s small bed with a brown patchwork blanket was on one side, along with a few books and art supplies scattered around. On the other side was my small bed, with a thin purple quilt and a bunch of stolen items on the floor. Up against the middle wall was a splintery wooden table with hammers and nails and what not, as the basement used to be a workshop. A small dirt encrusted window was at the top of the wall, letting in streams of moonlight through the grime.
“Maybe it’ll be different this year,” I was saying. “Maybe we’ll make it to a grand total of a year and a day.” Jess and I were sitting on the floor, staring at the pocket watch I stole from Mr. Pilliar. I have a knack for stealing. “Don’t be ridiculous, Tammy. Besides, I’m almost excited for it to happen. That old bat deserves nothing better”, said Jess. I laughed.
His bright green eyes glittered around dark lashes, and his unkempt choppy brown hair fell onto his face. I could make out all his features in the scarce moonlight-high cheekbones, pink lips, and somehow a chin that was both strong and weak at the same time. I wondered how nobody noticed how beautiful he was but me. I couldn’t understand how everyone looked at him like a piece of dirt. I could never tell him this, though. It would be too weird, seeing as we were like brother and sister. Imagine telling your brother he looked beautiful. Awkward, huh?
His eyes met mine, and I looked away, embarrassed. “What were you staring at?” he asked, grinning. “You’ve got some crud on your face”, I snapped. “Well, excuse me your highness, I didn’t realize I was too indecent to be in your presence”, Jess said. We looked at each other and smiled. All was forgiven.
A draft came in from the crack in the window, and I wrapped my arms tighter around my legs. “Ten seconds”, said Jess. Oh. I had almost forgot what we were doing. In ten seconds, it would be 12:00 in the morning on May 19th. The real day of the dead, we always say.
“5”, said Jess. I joined him in counting down. “4…3…2…” Like clockwork, a loud thud came from upstairs. Jess and me looked at each other and smiled.
or
Looking back, I wonder how I got along all those years without ever complaining. I guess being unhappy for the most part was just something you got used to. Not that I was really ever that unhappy with Jess around. And I still can’t believe everything that happened…It seems like a distant dream now. One of the ones where you wake up scared, but then just laugh about it because it seemed so ridiculous.
I guess we’ll start on the day our last master died. Before the real beginning of my life. It was pretty warm out for May, but always cold in the basement. And somehow we always wound up with a room in the basement. This one was pretty big though…Jess’s small bed with a brown patchwork blanket was on one side, along with a few books and art supplies scattered around. On the other side was my small bed, with a thin purple quilt and a bunch of stolen items on the floor. Up against the middle wall was a splintery wooden table with hammers and nails and what not, as the basement used to be a workshop. A small dirt encrusted window was at the top of the wall, letting in streams of moonlight through the grime.
“Maybe it’ll be different this year,” I was saying. “Maybe we’ll make it to a grand total of a year and a day.” Jess and I were sitting on the floor, staring at the pocket watch I stole from Mr. Pilliar. I have a knack for stealing. “Don’t be ridiculous, Tammy. Besides, I’m almost excited for it to happen. That old bat deserves nothing better”, said Jess. I laughed.
Okay maybe it’s kind of sick that we thought that our mistress, Mrs. Selks, dieing is funny. But each year Jess and me are forced to work as servants for someone new, they all end up biting the dust on the same day, same time. The shock has worn off though, after eight years of this happening, and now we just find it amusing. It’s not like we ever get close enough to our masters to mourn for them.
Again, it is kind of sick that we find it amusing. Especially since no one will talk to us in town, thinking we’ll kill them if they are near us long enough. And ever since our fourth year of this happening, work has been increasingly hard to find. Mrs. Kyders, the resident nanny fr