Thank You Apollo

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I was in my house, it looked the exact same that it did two days ago.  There was no damage done to the floors or stuffing spread around.

“I got twelve volumes published,

they are on my wooden shelf.

My poems are so amazing,

I’m better then Apollo himself!”

A voice sang from the living room.

When I got to the living room, I saw my dad happily typing away on a computer.  He looked younger by thirty years.  His hair was jet black, not a gray hair to be seen.  His green eyes twinkled, no dark spots or bags under his eyes.  I saw my dad do something that I never thought that I would see, he smiled.

“WHAT?” someone shimmered into presence.

My dad was scared out of his roller chair.  He landed on his side, staring up at the figure with fear.  “Who are you?”

“Who am I?  Why, I am Apollo himself and that poem is extremely offensive!” Apollo exclaimed.

A little girl with dark hair ran into the room.  “Polly?” she asked, widening her bright green eyes.

Apollo’s eyes softened.  “Ah…Floret.”

“Lorry,” she protested, sucking her thumb.

Apollo ignored her request of calling her Lorry.  “You look like you would become a brilliant singer.  It is such a shame that I must do this to keep the egos in this room at a safe size.”  A golden cord came out of the girl’s mouth and into Apollo’s hand.  He tied it around his wrist.  “And to think that you could’ve saved her from this,” Apollo pitied as he snapped his fingers and disappeared.

Lorry tried to say something, but it was like watching a television on mute.  She tried and tried to speak, refusing to believe that she had been silenced.  She kept struggling until she tried screaming to use her vocal cords.  Never again to speak another word.

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