Categories > Original > Drama > Mendacium Nulla
“Marie. Step away from the cookies.”
Marie frowned and took a step back from the plate of cookies on the table, her head bowed in guilt of being caught. “Sorry, Mommy.”
My stepmom sighed at the sink, then turned around and faced Marie. “Just don’t do it next time, Marie,” she said, walking to the table and picking up a cookie. “Then you wouldn’t be guilty of anything.”
Elizabeth held the cookie out for Marie, which she gladly accepted. “Thanks, Mommy,” Marie said, smiling and breaking the cookie in half. “I’ll share.”
Elizabeth chuckled and shook her head, a small smile on her face. “No need to share, it’s all yours.”
Marie nodded and ran out of the room with the cookie, trying to break it apart and leaving crumbs behind her. I followed her out of the kitchen, ready to scold her, and I saw her hand half of the cookie out in the air. “Take it, Elsie,” she said, smiling into the darkness. “It’s good.”
Marie nodded, and walked into the darkness, cookie still in hand.
**
Snow was falling outside, filling the room with a silence that only winter could bring. It was a cold night; even with the fire glowing around the room, I could still see my breath. I was tucked under the covers, shivering as a wind kicked up and blew through the cracks in the window. Violet shivered beside me, slightly warmer than usual.
Violet shivered violently for a moment next to me, and I looked over at her. “You sure it’s not a fever, Violet?” I asked quietly, my breath fogging up a little as it floated through the air, dancing in the rays of the fire.
Violet shook her head and turned away from me. “I’m sure it’s not a fever. I don’t get sick.”
I looked away from Violet, curling into a ball. “Just hope you get over this by morning, Violet.”
“I do, Christopher. It seems like it will be a perfect day to play out in the snow.”
~-~
By the next morning, Violet still wasn’t well. I walked downstairs, already in nice and warm clothing, wondering what she did to get sick. We played in the snow, but…
“What?”
I looked up, shocked and confused. “What?”
My father turned around from looking out at the snow to glare at me. “Don’t be silly boy. I just asked you that. What were you saying?”
I nearly kicked myself for talking aloud. “I’m sorry, Father, I was just reciting the poem I’m learning.”
My father quirked an eyebrow and glared at me. “Were you, now?” He turned back to look out the window again. “Tell me, then, what you were reciting.”
My eyes went wide and I began panicking. I hadn’t thought my father would make me recite the ‘poem’ I was telling myself.
“Hello, Christopher, good to see you down here,” Mrs. Edna walked through the laundry door, holding freshly pressed clothing, saving me from the poem. “It’s a cold one today, we might have to keep the fires always kindled from now on.”
My father huffed and blankly replied, “That means the bank will be closed. Just when I need money for business affairs…”
Mrs. Edna winked at me, making me smile, and looked at Father. “Business affairs, Mr. Moore?” she implored, looking passive in a matter of seconds.
Father turned around and glared at her too. “Yes, you silly twit. Business affairs. Nothing you or any woman would ever be able to comprehend.” With that, he glared at me again, and stormed out of the kitchen towards the dining room.
I looked at Mrs. Edna silently until we heard a door upstairs shut firmly. “Mrs. Edna,” I asked immediately, “what do parents mean by ‘business affairs’?”
Mrs. Edna shook her head, her head bowed a little in shame. “Business affairs is just a term adults use to cover up their dirty laundry with.” Here she glared at me with a smile. “And I believe you know how to cover dirty laundry beneath blankets and pillows, don’t you, Mr. Christopher.”
I giggled and nodded, looking at the basket full of bread in the middle of the table. “Mrs. Edna…” I started, lazily picking at the wood grain in the table.
She stood up straighter and adjusted the laundry on her hip. “Yes, Mr. Christopher?” she asked, head cocked a little to one side.
“When you get a fever…” I began quietly, wondering if I could tell her about Violet and Marie. I looked back at Mrs. Edna and she nodded to tell me say it. “Never mind,” I said quieter, shifting out of my seat and walking to the door of the kitchen to leave.
“Mr. Christopher, fevers need rest, water, and soup,” Mrs. Edna said behind me, stopping me and making me turn around to look at the woman. Her grey hairs were just starting to show, her skin just a tad wrinkly as she smiled at me. “And if it’s somebody you want to get over it, make sure they don’t freeze. It’s getting colder, and freezing with a fever is one of Satan’s torture methods.”
I nodded and smiled at Mrs. Edna. “Thank you, Mrs. Edna,” I said, and ran back upstairs to check on Violet.
When I walked into my room, Violet was sitting by the window, a blanket around her thin form, shivering as her breath hit the windowpane and fogged it up.
“It’s lovely outside…” She turned and looked at me, paler than usual. “We should go play in the snow.”
I shook my head and began walking over to Violet after making sure the door was closed. “Violet, you need rest. You’re sick. Mrs. Edna said you need rest and not to freeze. Freezing with a fever is Satan’s murder methods.
Violet smiled weakly and stood up, her socked feet touching the wood floor slowly. “I don’t want to die by Satan,” she said, and began shuffling to my bed. “But I don’t want rest. I just want to go outside and play.”
“Sorry, Violet,” I said, walking to my bed and making sure she was piled under all my blankets. “You need sleep. If you die, then you won’t get to see Marie the next time we do.”
Violet nodded, her eyes opening and closing slowly. “I want to see Marie,” she mumbled, and her eyes shut after she turned her head towards the fire. “Need to see Marie…”
I watched as Violet began to sleep, and I sighed. “Now for studies,” I said, and walked out of the room, preparing for the private tutor my father hired, Mr. Blanchard.
An update! I'm not dead! Amazing, ain't it... The latest chapter for Mend Null (the nickname. Cool, huh?) is right here. Hopefully, the chapters'll get longer, because anything less than 2k is short for me. Srsly. I can't write long ass chapters, and I probably won't for this, but STILL.
Rate and review, please. This is my first drama, without the prefabricated characters. Even Violet is new, and that says a lot.
Marie frowned and took a step back from the plate of cookies on the table, her head bowed in guilt of being caught. “Sorry, Mommy.”
My stepmom sighed at the sink, then turned around and faced Marie. “Just don’t do it next time, Marie,” she said, walking to the table and picking up a cookie. “Then you wouldn’t be guilty of anything.”
Elizabeth held the cookie out for Marie, which she gladly accepted. “Thanks, Mommy,” Marie said, smiling and breaking the cookie in half. “I’ll share.”
Elizabeth chuckled and shook her head, a small smile on her face. “No need to share, it’s all yours.”
Marie nodded and ran out of the room with the cookie, trying to break it apart and leaving crumbs behind her. I followed her out of the kitchen, ready to scold her, and I saw her hand half of the cookie out in the air. “Take it, Elsie,” she said, smiling into the darkness. “It’s good.”
Marie nodded, and walked into the darkness, cookie still in hand.
**
Snow was falling outside, filling the room with a silence that only winter could bring. It was a cold night; even with the fire glowing around the room, I could still see my breath. I was tucked under the covers, shivering as a wind kicked up and blew through the cracks in the window. Violet shivered beside me, slightly warmer than usual.
Violet shivered violently for a moment next to me, and I looked over at her. “You sure it’s not a fever, Violet?” I asked quietly, my breath fogging up a little as it floated through the air, dancing in the rays of the fire.
Violet shook her head and turned away from me. “I’m sure it’s not a fever. I don’t get sick.”
I looked away from Violet, curling into a ball. “Just hope you get over this by morning, Violet.”
“I do, Christopher. It seems like it will be a perfect day to play out in the snow.”
~-~
By the next morning, Violet still wasn’t well. I walked downstairs, already in nice and warm clothing, wondering what she did to get sick. We played in the snow, but…
“What?”
I looked up, shocked and confused. “What?”
My father turned around from looking out at the snow to glare at me. “Don’t be silly boy. I just asked you that. What were you saying?”
I nearly kicked myself for talking aloud. “I’m sorry, Father, I was just reciting the poem I’m learning.”
My father quirked an eyebrow and glared at me. “Were you, now?” He turned back to look out the window again. “Tell me, then, what you were reciting.”
My eyes went wide and I began panicking. I hadn’t thought my father would make me recite the ‘poem’ I was telling myself.
“Hello, Christopher, good to see you down here,” Mrs. Edna walked through the laundry door, holding freshly pressed clothing, saving me from the poem. “It’s a cold one today, we might have to keep the fires always kindled from now on.”
My father huffed and blankly replied, “That means the bank will be closed. Just when I need money for business affairs…”
Mrs. Edna winked at me, making me smile, and looked at Father. “Business affairs, Mr. Moore?” she implored, looking passive in a matter of seconds.
Father turned around and glared at her too. “Yes, you silly twit. Business affairs. Nothing you or any woman would ever be able to comprehend.” With that, he glared at me again, and stormed out of the kitchen towards the dining room.
I looked at Mrs. Edna silently until we heard a door upstairs shut firmly. “Mrs. Edna,” I asked immediately, “what do parents mean by ‘business affairs’?”
Mrs. Edna shook her head, her head bowed a little in shame. “Business affairs is just a term adults use to cover up their dirty laundry with.” Here she glared at me with a smile. “And I believe you know how to cover dirty laundry beneath blankets and pillows, don’t you, Mr. Christopher.”
I giggled and nodded, looking at the basket full of bread in the middle of the table. “Mrs. Edna…” I started, lazily picking at the wood grain in the table.
She stood up straighter and adjusted the laundry on her hip. “Yes, Mr. Christopher?” she asked, head cocked a little to one side.
“When you get a fever…” I began quietly, wondering if I could tell her about Violet and Marie. I looked back at Mrs. Edna and she nodded to tell me say it. “Never mind,” I said quieter, shifting out of my seat and walking to the door of the kitchen to leave.
“Mr. Christopher, fevers need rest, water, and soup,” Mrs. Edna said behind me, stopping me and making me turn around to look at the woman. Her grey hairs were just starting to show, her skin just a tad wrinkly as she smiled at me. “And if it’s somebody you want to get over it, make sure they don’t freeze. It’s getting colder, and freezing with a fever is one of Satan’s torture methods.”
I nodded and smiled at Mrs. Edna. “Thank you, Mrs. Edna,” I said, and ran back upstairs to check on Violet.
When I walked into my room, Violet was sitting by the window, a blanket around her thin form, shivering as her breath hit the windowpane and fogged it up.
“It’s lovely outside…” She turned and looked at me, paler than usual. “We should go play in the snow.”
I shook my head and began walking over to Violet after making sure the door was closed. “Violet, you need rest. You’re sick. Mrs. Edna said you need rest and not to freeze. Freezing with a fever is Satan’s murder methods.
Violet smiled weakly and stood up, her socked feet touching the wood floor slowly. “I don’t want to die by Satan,” she said, and began shuffling to my bed. “But I don’t want rest. I just want to go outside and play.”
“Sorry, Violet,” I said, walking to my bed and making sure she was piled under all my blankets. “You need sleep. If you die, then you won’t get to see Marie the next time we do.”
Violet nodded, her eyes opening and closing slowly. “I want to see Marie,” she mumbled, and her eyes shut after she turned her head towards the fire. “Need to see Marie…”
I watched as Violet began to sleep, and I sighed. “Now for studies,” I said, and walked out of the room, preparing for the private tutor my father hired, Mr. Blanchard.
An update! I'm not dead! Amazing, ain't it... The latest chapter for Mend Null (the nickname. Cool, huh?) is right here. Hopefully, the chapters'll get longer, because anything less than 2k is short for me. Srsly. I can't write long ass chapters, and I probably won't for this, but STILL.
Rate and review, please. This is my first drama, without the prefabricated characters. Even Violet is new, and that says a lot.
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