Ink by Singe (singeaddams @ hotmail.com)
"You'll hate yourself in the morning." Del warned me. I stopped mid-stab. Her hand had looked so clean and fine and flawless where it lay on my desk and my pen was so sharp. I had dipped it in violet ink. One good gouge and she would have a purple mark on her hand for the rest of her life. I considered her words. Yes, I would hate myself and I would resent her, too, as much as one could resent a child with bad judgement. How many times has she been told not to indulge the lunatic? And dear Sam would be so horrified and Rosie's eyes would snap sparks and Hope would give me the silent treatment for days...
But her skin was perfect, just smooth and perfect, save for my mark that she would wear for the rest of her life. And she's smiling at me now, she's daring me and I stab down, because she understands, I stab down...
...into the wood of the desk because she's entirely too fast for me. That's a new nib ruined. She laughs and dances away but the joke's on her because pens can be THROWN as easily as daggers and, ha! HA! I got her right in the arm! She doesn't even blink, good girl, and she jerks it out and throws it back and I duck...it sticks into the wall in a splatter of violet and red, red blood against the cream colored walls. I can only gasp because the sunset is gleaming on the stain and I've never seen anything so beautiful. She's behind Hope's desk now and she's dipping her sister's pen into a pot of green ink...I shoot for cover behind the bookshelf...too late! There's a stinging in my leg and, ah, look, a green mark of my own for the rest of my life, however long that will be because Sam was furious over the rock fight so he'll surely kill me for this one.
I fling a small bottle at her head and it shatters against the wall in a wave of the Elves' finest vermillion ink and broken shards of glass, maybe she'll step on them, and I duck again as a pencil dipped in blue comes flying at me. My leg is freely bleeding and so is her arm and we're laughing, laughing, laughing because we're alive and in pain and it's so lovely and such a blessed miracle. We are marked, marked 'til the end of our days, and my only pain comes from the knowledge that I will regret this tomorrow, I will, and I'll hate myself and her, too, but the glass and the sharp metal and the blood and the bright ink is so fun and wondrous now...
...and tomorrow is such a long way away.
~
Pretty Good Year