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    Revel
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Stories posted in this category are works of fiction. Names, places, characters, events, and incidents are created by the authors' imaginations or are used fictitiously. Any resemblances to actual persons (living or dead), organizations, companies, events, or locales are entirely coincidental.
Note: While authors are asked to place warnings on their stories for some moderated content, everyone has different thresholds, and it is your responsibility as a reader to avoid stories or stop reading if something bothers you. 

A series of shorts in the history of my life and family - 1. The Fall of Rumpleberry

Sir the Honourable Lord Rumpleberry slid out of Melody's arms for the 7th time this night. His impact with the cold cement floor was met with a cry most unbefitting his station.

"AaaaAAAAHH!!" Came the shrill scream, as his body lay akimbo upon the floor, his hair wind-beaten atop his dramatically tilted head.

"Bryan, could you please help your sister?" Asked The Woman, "My hands are rather full right now."

And they rather were, too. Rather. Stacked to extraodinary and unnecessary heights in her arms was a wobbling heap of cutlery and plates, dancing about her arms in a desperately jangling bid for freedom. The woman looked to all the world like she might at any moment burst into a sudden rhyming rant on the merits of entertainment vs. responsibility. Unfortunately, rather than a timely psychotic break, she waited patiently at Bryan.

Bryan looked back with indifference.

Rumpleberry continued to cry out, helpless.

The plates wobbled.

"It's too late for that," Bryan smirked, his aura of indifference suddenly replaced with predatory purpose. Time seemed to slow in this moment. Melody's eyes focused on him intently. The Woman, piecing together the conversation with her typical two second delay, cought up, opened her mouth to counter the oncoming cruelty. Bryan's lips stretched up and across her lower face 'till completely taut; confident, callous, hungry. Rumpleberry's screams had by this point turned to whimpers. The plates wobbled.

"Rumpleberry is dead."

And the surety of these words seemed to lend themselves to the warping of reality, for no sooner than they were spoken than suddenly they were true. Rumpleberry ceased all cries for assistance, seemingly content to lay broken and alone on the uneven ground. He no longer shined with benevolent brilliance: that last true gentlemen in a world of ogres. He would never again hold tea with her, or listen sympathetically about the cruelty of school aged children. He was no longer Rumpleberry, he was just Rumpleberry's body.

My sister still has the doll, but he never spoke to her again after his tragic and early death. To this day, I doubt she's forgiven my brother for what she insists was 'depraved-heart murder'.
Copyright © 2013 Revel; All Rights Reserved.
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Stories posted in this category are works of fiction. Names, places, characters, events, and incidents are created by the authors' imaginations or are used fictitiously. Any resemblances to actual persons (living or dead), organizations, companies, events, or locales are entirely coincidental.
Note: While authors are asked to place warnings on their stories for some moderated content, everyone has different thresholds, and it is your responsibility as a reader to avoid stories or stop reading if something bothers you. 
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