I apologize for the short and not really well worded response.
- Last Seen: 8 yrs ago
- Joined: 9 yrs ago
- Posts: 213 (0.06 / day)
- VMs: 2
-
Username history
- xxrhoo 9 yrs ago
Status
Recent Statuses
9 yrs ago
Current
New account: see bio.
1
like
9 yrs ago
Remember where you got your faith. Cling to it.
1
like
9 yrs ago
Although, don't have your mind so open that your brains fall out.
2
likes
9 yrs ago
If you must have a loud voice, have a loud mind. If you must have a loud mind, open it.
1
like
9 yrs ago
Why not show the world all the positive things about your life instead of dwelling on the negative?
4
likes
Bio
Most Recent Posts
The boy's sudden relief made Rhoo feel more comfortable as well, and she rose again to a standing position. She listened to him speak to Evelyn, and couldn't suppress the faint smile that crept its way upon her lips at his enthusiasm. The desire to assure him that he was probably kinder and stronger than most was present in her bosom, but still she kept silent. His bow was almost satirical, Rhoo thought, keeping a straight face.
When he turned to her, her smile widened. She dipped her head in a modest nod and said, "You're welcome," before he continued. Then, she said, "Just because you are different does not mean you are bad."
Then, she nodded at Evelyn, silently accepting the invitation.
Now that @Absolute Grace has posted, I eagerly await a response from @mcpop9!
I'm interested.
<Snipped quote by xxrhoo>
Buy some SSDs for me please! I've been meaning to upgrade.
Cough up at least $150! :P
@Absolute Grace I'm able to post regularly as soon as you give a response, so mcpop can respond to my character. I'll be building a PC in the near future.
Very beautiful writing.
Chapter One
Cole snatched the goodies off of the floor, too angry and admittedly shocked to fully register what had just happened. He entered the room that the girls were in, unintentionally opening the door so forcefully that its handle hit the wall with a loud bang. Jenna immediately curled into a ball, hands over her head. The pencil and notebook that was in her lap slid to the floor, and she peeked out of hiding when she realized she was safe. Penelope turned to Cole with a wide grin, round glasses perched at the tip of her nose.
“Hey,” she said, looking up at him. “What do you got?”
“Treats,” he smiled softly, handing one to Jenna, making sure to be extra gentle, and then one to Penelope.
“Wow!” Penelope gasped, turning the bun over in her hands. She tugged at its plastic wrapping and it popped open. She sniffed it curiously. “It doesn’t smell like anything. Where did you get it?”
Cole began to feel skeptical about the snacks. He knew most plastic-wrapped baked goods from Buddy’s Convenience were a bit stale and flavorless, but that wasn’t what concerned him. He knew where he got them from, but where did Dillon get them from? How was he sure they came from Buddy’s? He wouldn’t put it past his brother to give them something that would harm them, but then again, why would he? Cole let the thoughts fade.
“Dillon bought them,” he said softly, deciding not to take the credit. He watched Penelope take a bite and felt his heart beat quicker. She hummed happily, obviously enjoying the flavor. He looked over and was surprised to see that Jenna had already eaten the entirety of hers. She grinned at him widely. Cinnamon buns were her favorite and it had been so long since she’d last had one. It was a delicacy.
“Tell him thank you,” she said pointedly. She’d heard them arguing. The walls were thin, and she already knew Dillon left. He wasn’t significant to her. She didn’t love him any more than she was socially obligated to. And even though his absence meant nothing other than that the police would stop knocking on their door (you know, maybe), she still was upset with Cole for handling it the wrong way.
“This is yummy,” Penelope said between bites. “Tell him thanks!”
Jenna watched Cole hug their little sister and then come to pat her on the shoulder. He knew she didn’t like hugs and he respected that. He looked into her blue eyes and sincerely whispered, “He’ll be back. He’ll be fine,” without knowing if he believed his own words.
3.
Cole snatched the goodies off of the floor, too angry and admittedly shocked to fully register what had just happened. He entered the room that the girls were in, unintentionally opening the door so forcefully that its handle hit the wall with a loud bang. Jenna immediately curled into a ball, hands over her head. The pencil and notebook that was in her lap slid to the floor, and she peeked out of hiding when she realized she was safe. Penelope turned to Cole with a wide grin, round glasses perched at the tip of her nose.
“Hey,” she said, looking up at him. “What do you got?”
“Treats,” he smiled softly, handing one to Jenna, making sure to be extra gentle, and then one to Penelope.
“Wow!” Penelope gasped, turning the bun over in her hands. She tugged at its plastic wrapping and it popped open. She sniffed it curiously. “It doesn’t smell like anything. Where did you get it?”
Cole began to feel skeptical about the snacks. He knew most plastic-wrapped baked goods from Buddy’s Convenience were a bit stale and flavorless, but that wasn’t what concerned him. He knew where he got them from, but where did Dillon get them from? How was he sure they came from Buddy’s? He wouldn’t put it past his brother to give them something that would harm them, but then again, why would he? Cole let the thoughts fade.
“Dillon bought them,” he said softly, deciding not to take the credit. He watched Penelope take a bite and felt his heart beat quicker. She hummed happily, obviously enjoying the flavor. He looked over and was surprised to see that Jenna had already eaten the entirety of hers. She grinned at him widely. Cinnamon buns were her favorite and it had been so long since she’d last had one. It was a delicacy.
“Tell him thank you,” she said pointedly. She’d heard them arguing. The walls were thin, and she already knew Dillon left. He wasn’t significant to her. She didn’t love him any more than she was socially obligated to. And even though his absence meant nothing other than that the police would stop knocking on their door (you know, maybe), she still was upset with Cole for handling it the wrong way.
“This is yummy,” Penelope said between bites. “Tell him thanks!”
Jenna watched Cole hug their little sister and then come to pat her on the shoulder. He knew she didn’t like hugs and he respected that. He looked into her blue eyes and sincerely whispered, “He’ll be back. He’ll be fine,” without knowing if he believed his own words.
I've just found out that Jenna McCarthy seems to be an author in the real world. In no way have I intended my character to resemble Jenna McCarthy the person in any way.
Chapter One
“We’re doing fine,” Cole said, followed by a tight-lipped smile. “Thank you for your concern.”
“Alrighty then,” the officer drew out the first word. “You boys take care of yourselves. Give the station a call if you need anything.”
“Will do, sir,” Cole said, gently closing the door after Dillon stepped in. The officer’s gesture was made on good intentions, but their home had no working phone. Cole worked a mediocre factory job tirelessly enough just to put food on the table, much less buy a phone.
Having been distracted for only a brief second by his thoughts, Cole then turned to the teen who had just lazily sprawled out on the worn couch, and pointed an accusing finger at him. “You’re a bum,” he growled, almost sounding exasperated.
“Yeah, and you’re right ugly,” Dillon retorted, forearm thrown over his eyes. “Tell me something new that might make me give a damn.”
Cole’s frustration was overwhelming him. He could feel it in his chest, and he could feel it clouding his head. Several deep breaths through his nostrils lightened it a bit, but the agitation couldn’t be ignored. Another rant with raised voices, most likely leading to a brawl would not alter this kid’s attitude or change his mind about life. It seemed like nothing would. Dillon was too distraught, sulking and troubled from his mother’s suicide, and oh, his vanished father and murdered step-father who had abused him all his life prior to his death. That’s what people said. The truth was that Dillon had his biological father’s blood in his veins. He was a thief. A lying, apathetic thief.
“You just don’t care, do you?”
“Umm, nope.”
“You’re no better than Dale, or dad for that matter,” he added. “Speaking of which, why don’t you go find him and mooch and live off of his money? Go rob a bank together. Perfect father-son bonding time.”
It was a pathetic excuse for a proper insult, but it drew Dillon to his feet in anger. “Fine,” he said, voice raised just below a shout, but calm. He reached into his coat pocket and Cole flinched, thinking his brother was about to pull a gun on him. Instead, three wrapped cinnamon buns were flung onto the carpet in front of him.
“If you’re so against it,” Dillon said, uncharacteristically beside himself, “Don’t eat one. Let the girls split it.”
He waited, silently begging Cole for a response. Receiving none, he turned and walked out the door, slamming it behind him.
2.
“We’re doing fine,” Cole said, followed by a tight-lipped smile. “Thank you for your concern.”
“Alrighty then,” the officer drew out the first word. “You boys take care of yourselves. Give the station a call if you need anything.”
“Will do, sir,” Cole said, gently closing the door after Dillon stepped in. The officer’s gesture was made on good intentions, but their home had no working phone. Cole worked a mediocre factory job tirelessly enough just to put food on the table, much less buy a phone.
Having been distracted for only a brief second by his thoughts, Cole then turned to the teen who had just lazily sprawled out on the worn couch, and pointed an accusing finger at him. “You’re a bum,” he growled, almost sounding exasperated.
“Yeah, and you’re right ugly,” Dillon retorted, forearm thrown over his eyes. “Tell me something new that might make me give a damn.”
Cole’s frustration was overwhelming him. He could feel it in his chest, and he could feel it clouding his head. Several deep breaths through his nostrils lightened it a bit, but the agitation couldn’t be ignored. Another rant with raised voices, most likely leading to a brawl would not alter this kid’s attitude or change his mind about life. It seemed like nothing would. Dillon was too distraught, sulking and troubled from his mother’s suicide, and oh, his vanished father and murdered step-father who had abused him all his life prior to his death. That’s what people said. The truth was that Dillon had his biological father’s blood in his veins. He was a thief. A lying, apathetic thief.
“You just don’t care, do you?”
“Umm, nope.”
“You’re no better than Dale, or dad for that matter,” he added. “Speaking of which, why don’t you go find him and mooch and live off of his money? Go rob a bank together. Perfect father-son bonding time.”
It was a pathetic excuse for a proper insult, but it drew Dillon to his feet in anger. “Fine,” he said, voice raised just below a shout, but calm. He reached into his coat pocket and Cole flinched, thinking his brother was about to pull a gun on him. Instead, three wrapped cinnamon buns were flung onto the carpet in front of him.
“If you’re so against it,” Dillon said, uncharacteristically beside himself, “Don’t eat one. Let the girls split it.”
He waited, silently begging Cole for a response. Receiving none, he turned and walked out the door, slamming it behind him.
© 2007-2024