I was always a loser.

Seri­ously, I was. I got picked on at school for every pos­si­ble reason: Mamas boy, nerd, totally out of style, ugly, etc. etc. The usual stuff, I know, but it hurt all the same. High school wasn’t any better. I never had a girl­friend. Hell, I barely had friends, and they weren’t exactly the socialites of the cen­tury either. Like minds stick together and all that I guess.

This is pos­si­bly a re-​post from my old web­site. I don’t remem­ber if I ever posted it.

Slap!

The sound seems to rever­ber­ate off of every sur­face, every facet, even off of the very brushes of the wind.

What did he do now? He stands rooted to the spot, twist­ing from the trunk of his being, recoil­ing from the pain and indig­na­tion that is pulses through him like the blow to his face that he now nurses. She screams at him, fero­ciously she tares yet another strip from him as she screeches far-​flung accu­sa­tions at him. He seems slightly con­fused; you can see it in his eyes.

This is pos­si­bly a re-​post from my old web­site. I don’t remem­ber if I ever posted it.

“Well. That didn’t go nearly as good as I had orig­i­nally envisioned.” The pris­oner stated, as we dragged him down the hall­way. “Oh well. Can’t blame a guy for trying can ya?” Indeed we couldn’t. The man was to stand trial, and as usual, it will be a mere for­mal­ity. Even the inno­cent are not safe from the Kings ‘justice’ any­more. Granted, this one was guilty, and we all knew, as we had caught him last night in a raid into some of the rebel hovels that are hidden, scat­tered amidst the city like fes­ter­ing wounds on an oth­er­wise pris­tine body.

At least that’s what the king says. He seems to have gone a little off in recent days, should truth be told. No one will utter a word in even the most hushed tones of such hap­pen­ings. The King has eyes, ears, and blades all around, and those who speak against him are either pub­licly exe­cuted, or simply cease to exist.