(Thorn Cloud Series - Book One)
Zaylen Thorn was never quite the same after the death of his little brother. It doesn't help that his mother blames him, his father is always working, and his siblings are so wrapped up in their own issues that they a...
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Tuesday August 17, 2010
Unfortunately there are not that many people that often sit back and question how their words may affect those that they spit at.
The swirly snake that we call words may have to be one of the most unpredictable creatures on this God forsaken planet, no guns or swords are necessary to make it's victim bleed, there is no army powerful enough to do the same damage a single sentence may end up causing one day. As a matter of fact, a sentence could easily start a war.
A sword may cut to kill, or the wound will heal over leaving a pink scar in its place, but words often stab the same spot over and over and over again before finally staying in place, chipping away at our bones with every minor movement.
Zaylen often wonders how he started as that little five year old boy skipping through poppy fields to whatever this seems to be.
From the outside looking in it's hard to understand, but it can go the other way too, from the inside looking out it's beyond hard to explain, if there's even an explanation at all.
Life is just... Heavy. That's the only thing that comes to mind these days, or at least that's the only thing that comes to the mind of Zaylen Charles Thorn.
He just wants it to get a little bit lighter but is it sad that he doesn't see that ever happening?
Truthfully, he doesn't think there was ever a time where life felt particularly lighter, sure it was better at one point, when his brother was around it was better.
His mental health was still fucked and his mother still made it her life mission to remind him that he was nothing but a mistake. Too many poor life choices that caught up to her.
Nico was wanted, Zaylen shouldn't have been born. She makes that fact known.
So although life was less heavy when Nicolas was among the living, it was never light.
"What the fuck are you still doing here?" Sydney suddenly asked as she burst into her youngest living sons bedroom, successful breaking the teenager out of his minor morning essential crisis.
Her voice is coated in molten lava as she continues to try to burn him from the outside-in with her glare.
"I-i-it's my b-bedroom?" he questioned while slowly taking his feet off my desk, ignoring the sharp pain that shot through his right hip as he did so.
"Don't you have school or something?"
"Mhmm, doors d-don't get u-unlocked for another hour a-and a-a half."
"That's not my problem, I have to get the house cleaned up and your face is already ruining my day-", nobody said you had to enter my room at five in the morning, "and for once in your damn life, stop talking, I can already feel the migraine coming on." She says while rubbing her temples slowly. She acts like all the boy does is speak, if she didn't talk to him, he wouldn't talk to her, Zee typically only speaks when spoken to. It's easier that way.
