REJOICE, PEASANTS! // Of Broken Things and Paint Splatterings SNIPPETS

    

       Before this post officially starts can I just point out that putting "peasants" when addressing people is the best? It's effortless snark. 

 

 
      ANYWAYS, let's just hop right into the snippets!

     I've decided to spilt my book into three different POVs, Piper's, Josh's, and Alex's, all of which y'all will hopefully get to know better on my Friday posts. ^_^

 

      I have no snippets of Josh's POV for this post. :/

        Alex:  

          Austen takes his foot off of my face as a side door creaks open.

 “Can you jerks get lost?” A boy stands in the doorway, holding something over his shoulder. His expression is lost in the shadows, but his tone sounds annoyed.

 I hold my breath, waiting for one of the group’s response. 

 Ethan scoffs, “Go back to your demented grandma you-”

  I grimace at the racial slurs that tumble out of Ethan’s mouth.

 There is silence, and then the boy steps out into the alleyway, looming over Ethan, Gordan, and Austen.
         He’s older than I realized, looking more college age than high school age. One hand is curled into a fist, the other is armed with what looks like a sack of potatoes. The scowl growing across his dark face is terrifying.

He takes a step closer to Ethan, glaring down at him. “Do you want to see the bloodstains from the last person that called me or my grandmother that?” he asks, his voice strangely calm despite the furious expression on his face.

 

 

 

 

 

       

        “Andres!” 

         Andres turns, awkwardly waving at the old woman standing in the doorway. “Hi, Grandmother.”

         Grandmother taps her cane as she looks from me to Andres to me again, her frizzy white hair falls into her eyes, and her expression is unreadable. “Did you beat up this little white kid?” she asks, glaring at Andres.

“No, ma’am!” Andres throws up his hands, “I was saving him from those three punks.”

Andres’s grandmother stares at Andres, before a smile escapes her lips along with a giggle. “Did you use my bloodstain line?”

Andres grins back, “Worked like a charm.”

“That’s my boy.”

 
 
 
 

 

     Andres snorts, “Watch out, Alex, she’s sweet right now, but it’s all a trick.”             

     The girl sticks her tongue out at Andres, “Am not!”

   Andres sticks out his tongue right back, “You’re evil, May. The empress of evil."

  May sniffs, "I prefer The Most Amazing Queen and Sister, thank you very much."

Piper:

“Coward.” The moment the words leave my mouth I want to take them back, they hang in the air, suffocating me as Josh turns.

 The pain that spreads across his face is heartbreaking, and I suddenly know I was wrong, so horribly wrong. All I see in his eyes is grief. Years of rejection, anger, heartbreak, and of being desperately lost surface in his face, it’s like a tidal wave, rising, rising, rising. And then it crashes down.

 He turns, walking towards the door. “Sorry,” he whispers, breaking the silence.

"Josh.” I stumble forward, reaching for him. The room is spinning, the color is blinding and I feel bile rising in my throat.

  Josh keeps walking, closing the door softly behind him without looking back.

What is wrong with me? I can no longer see the color of anything. Everything is dull and fading. My paints turn muddy no matter what I do. Burying my face in my hands, I feel a lump growing in my throat. It’s over. I’ve won, but at the same time I’ve failed.

 

 

“You’re ridiculous.” Josh huffs, turning off the car and slipping the keys into his coat pocket. He turns to me, his dark brown eyes meeting mine, “You know, there’s a line between optimistic and stupid, right?” 

“Yes, it’s called hope.”

He unbuckles, reaching for the car door, “Hope is for the weak.” Josh steps out of the car, slamming the door, and I hurry to catch up to him as he walks across the parking lot.

“Aren’t you going to lock the door?” I ask.

He looks at me like I’m insane. “Why?”

I stare at him, is he really this…? I don’t even know what word to think of him as. “Someone might steal it…”

 

“Steal it?” Josh laughs, “If someone wanted to steal that rust bucket I’d be personally worried for their mental health and their eyesight.”

 

Soooo, yeah... *crickets*

What did you think?

 

Happy Writing,