#draftings

 It takes some convincing to get the few friends Ryo has to come over and test out his new television, but after hauling out his old medical books, and a long speech on why the device won’t kill them, his guests finally settle in.

Anjyu mocks the premise, characters, special effects, or all of the above every other minute (completely killing whatever fear factor the film is trying to build).

Kumoko tries in vain to shush him, but every time Ryo chimes in too (he’d like to hear the movie too, thanks) she switches sides. Well, I mean, if I didn’t know he was possessed I’d think it was a bloody nose too. Maybe Anjyu’s little tsundere friend secretly isn’t into horror films.

Mikan has horded all the snacks to herself and refuses to relinquish any without bribery… Until Ryo threatens to turn the television off, then suddenly she’s miss hostess. 

send “I’m sorry for your loss” for my muse to talk about a loved one that has passed on

The hand on his shoulder came as a surprise even her words didn’t. “Has that story been making rounds again?” In spite of his mutinous scowl, his cold blue eyes fell to the floor to avoid hers. Anjyu didn’t understand why the Anbu rumor mill had such a fascination with personal tragedies. 

More than anything, he felt tired, drained, from having to relive his jerky memories of the incident even when someone just asked for confirmational cliff-notes. He wished people would stop bringing this up. 

“Yes, my mother did die in front of me, but I don’t remember much.”

 The last clear thing Anjyu remembered was falling backwards and a sharp pain when his head cracked the concrete steps. After that it was lots of little jumbled pieces. Blood gluing his clothes to his back, trying to flex his fingers and toes, pain everywhere, and finally hands digging through loose concrete and pulling him loose.  

“I was injured, just like everyone else there, and by the time I finally woke up in the hospital she’d already passed away.”

When Anjyu spoke again his voice had dipped into his usual empty mission debriefing monotone. “Thanks for your concern.” Then, “Please don’t bring this up again.”

Kill Me: I’ll write a drabble about my character killing yours.

The thing they never mention in the songs was how quiet battlefields got after the last of the enemy line disappeared in clouds of gunpowder or retreated away into the trees. Here and there you could pick out soft scraping and tearing sounds, the birds picking over the fallen or other children doing the same, but no one speaks. Too young for combat, like himself, they scour the grounds while the survivors tend to their wounds and their own dead. 

With quiet clanks the enemy’s weaponry, armor, and anything else their older cousins could reforge or re-use for their own needs, grows into messy piles at the edge of the field.   

Anjyu’s busy dragging a breast plate towards the river, so the currents can scrub away some of the blood for him, when he spots her. The wild-haired girl stares back at him, frozen in-between switching hiding places. 

He lets the armor tumble to the ground as he reaches for his sword. It’s awkward and too big for him, but unlike the girl at least he’s armed. “You were with them.”

Her eyes go wide and she raises her arms. “I won’t tell-”

Whatever else she planned on promising him is lost in the scuffle. He darts forward, blade raised. She dunks behind one of the fallen and let’s the corpse take the blow. As he moves to yank the sword out and swing at her again she side-steps and tries to wrestle the blade from his hands.

A horrible minute hangs between the children as they grapple for the sword. She knees in him in the stomach, he twists her wrist the wrong way, and the sword makes a squelching sound as it slides loose, back into Anjyu’s hands. 

She almost lived, a hollow thought rings. 

A few stray hairs fall in his eyes as she tries to sweep those stubborn locks that frame his face into her braid. Anjyu tries to keep his head from wobbling too much as she tries to tug them into submission, but can’t bite back a growing smirk. Despite her best efforts his pin straight red hair immediately slips back out out of the careful pleats. 

Her warm fingers abruptly halt weaving then tighten in frustration. “Ugh! Again, really? Anjyu tell you hair to knock it off with the evil plotting or I’m never going to finish this.” Fuming, she begins rifling through her hair-things pile for a work-around. 

The order goes in one ear and immediately out the other. If getting it to behave was that easy he’d have tried it years ago. Instead he elects to hum appreciatively while inspecting the half-finished braid (already starting to unravel in Kumoko’s absence).    

But his reprieve only lasts a minute before his friend plops a pile of bobby pins in his lap. “Ok, new plan. You’re on pin duty. It can’t all fall down at the same time, right?”

Football is an amazing thing.  Week 5 proved it to the umpteenth degree.  Some nuggets from last week…

I don’t even want to play Madden in Cleveland

Clipboard Jesus became the 5th QB to take snaps for the Browns this season, before he was unceremoniously released the other day with an injury settlement.  He may be terrible at the sport of football, but man is a genius at the business side of it.…

Wowzer.  In terms of injuries, this past weekend was one for the books.  If you managed to come out of the weekend unscathed, well done.  If you had more ACL tears in your lineup than touchdowns, chin up.  You live to fight another day.  If you follow the column, we hit pretty big with our plays last week, so let’s keep it going.  Without further ado … Week 3.

  QUARTERBACKS

RYAN TANNEHILL ($6200)