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wonderlifeAuthor: Nichole
Rated: PG
Word Count: 388
Story Title: Walk On
Summary: Five pockys from the third generation.
I. Father
He isn’t the father, he knows that. Or at least biologically he’s not the father. But, in every way that counts, he’s the father. Foster-father? Stepfather? No, he’s Father. Dad. Daddy. He’s any and every name a child calls his male parental figure.
You don’t have to be blood to be family – his uncles, aunts, and cousins have shown him that much.
II. Special
She liked to say that she was special; that bleeding from your eyes – even for a moment – made a person just a bit special. Being special, - having lived - made her great.
I survived. I faced death and I lived; that makes me mighty.
Maybe being special meant that she was destined for greatness; that was why she lived despite all the odds.
III. Whatever Happens, Happens
“I don’t believe in fate.” He liked to tell people. “Whatever happens happens.”
He did not believe in fate or density, because what kind of Fate would allow a person to have a shitty life? No good Fate, actually. It was just life, not destiny.
He believed that until fate came into his life – until the bullet hit him with its force.
IV. Raised Together
She was eight months when she re-met him. She never asked him to be the father; she never asked him for anything. Yet, he gave her everything. He told her it was fate. He would be the father, and she believed him. He was the father and she thanked him daily for that.
She decided, somewhere along the way, that she would let him take care of the child with her. Not because of any large reason, but because he was kind to her and her child.
They could raise her child and together; they could grow up together, like a family.
V. Could Have Been Worse
I do not think I want to die, but it’s time. Everybody’s got a time limit and mine’s up. It’s like, everyone’s got a clock ticking in the background and I guess mine is running down. I guess I’m scared, but I think it’s going to be alright. After all, this could have worked out much worse.
I think it went alright, actually. And, I’m not afraid; I’m happy now. Because, I keep walking and now I get my rest.
Rated: PG
Word Count: 388
Story Title: Walk On
Summary: Five pockys from the third generation.
I. Father
He isn’t the father, he knows that. Or at least biologically he’s not the father. But, in every way that counts, he’s the father. Foster-father? Stepfather? No, he’s Father. Dad. Daddy. He’s any and every name a child calls his male parental figure.
You don’t have to be blood to be family – his uncles, aunts, and cousins have shown him that much.
II. Special
She liked to say that she was special; that bleeding from your eyes – even for a moment – made a person just a bit special. Being special, - having lived - made her great.
I survived. I faced death and I lived; that makes me mighty.
Maybe being special meant that she was destined for greatness; that was why she lived despite all the odds.
III. Whatever Happens, Happens
“I don’t believe in fate.” He liked to tell people. “Whatever happens happens.”
He did not believe in fate or density, because what kind of Fate would allow a person to have a shitty life? No good Fate, actually. It was just life, not destiny.
He believed that until fate came into his life – until the bullet hit him with its force.
IV. Raised Together
She was eight months when she re-met him. She never asked him to be the father; she never asked him for anything. Yet, he gave her everything. He told her it was fate. He would be the father, and she believed him. He was the father and she thanked him daily for that.
She decided, somewhere along the way, that she would let him take care of the child with her. Not because of any large reason, but because he was kind to her and her child.
They could raise her child and together; they could grow up together, like a family.
V. Could Have Been Worse
I do not think I want to die, but it’s time. Everybody’s got a time limit and mine’s up. It’s like, everyone’s got a clock ticking in the background and I guess mine is running down. I guess I’m scared, but I think it’s going to be alright. After all, this could have worked out much worse.
I think it went alright, actually. And, I’m not afraid; I’m happy now. Because, I keep walking and now I get my rest.
