Aw, man I was scared to s**t, last night. I could swear that something was knocking on my ceiling. Then something was knocking on my walls, one at a time, almost like someone trying to figure out what's inside a wooden box. It sounded like a set of knuckles rapping at my door. I opened the door at least three times, thinking that someone was there. I fled to my bed and hid under my blankets.
THEN, I swear I heard a creepy voice singing a "lullaby". It sang it over and over again, like a broken record. I've actually got it memorized.
"Cast away thy fears,
Come to me, Child,
Come to me.
What say thee?
What say thee?
Rise from thy grave
And follow me.
I know where thou hide
I know where thou sleep
I know where thou dream
And count all thy sheep.
Child, thou art special.
A beloved morning star.
Come to me and be mine.
A hymn for thee, a hymn for thee
A special hymn indeed.
Sung by voice rarely heard
Sung by memory,
Word for word.
Receive mine own blessing
Or receive mine own curse
Pick one, or the other,
Whichever thou durst.
Let me whisk thee away
While the moon is nigh
To a place most gray
Where beasts of ilk lie."
I didn't catch a WINK of sleep last night thanks to that noise. ll/;
And on top of that, my "Uncle" Vito [Well, he's not biological family] decided to wake us up freaking early to go fishing at Brant Lake. I couldn't stomach even cereal.
Brant Lake.
Big a** body of water, I can say that much. Miles across.
My "uncle" has a really nice big boat, and decided to take me and my little brother fishing on it. I honestly wasn't looking forward to baking under the sun for god-knows how many hours, but I -being the pushover I can be- couldn't refuse. For some reason, I always get the impression that my "uncle" actually doesn't appreciate us very much. In fact, I often get suspicious of him slipping toxins or something into my food. And then I later shame myself for thinking so. I know he really does love us like family, its just that his tone of voice doesn't always match what he's trying to express. And yet, I still can't help but to think he can't wait to get rid of us......
Anywho, I'm on a big a** boat in a big a** lake trying to reel in big a** fish with a big a** pole. We threw in a pool; whoever catches the first fish gets a dollar from the other two people. I won that, luckily. And "Uncle" Vito is the big game fisher in these parts. So then, we had another pool; whoever catches the most fish wins five bucks off the others. My poor brother. He didn't catch even a minnow today. He was so bummed.
The score was 0:3:5 [I had three]. Sometime around eleven, I hook a nasty one that was pulling and fighting like a b***h. It pulled so hard that I had to get up from my seat and back-step [bless you, Kerry, for bringing that fentanyl for my aching body] to keep myself from falling out. I had my game face on, and was ready to reel the mo-fo in, when -before I could say squat- I suddenly back-flipped over the railing on the other side of the vessel.
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
Next thing I knew, I was waking up in the boat, with my Uncle about to give me CPR. A hella awkward moment, I must say.... So what happened and what went down?
I was told that I might have bashed my head against the wall when I fell overboard. I didn't say anything to oppose that idea, but I distinctly remembered blacking out before hitting the water, and my head wasn't hurting at all. My brother had been [unwisely] laughing hysterically until they saw I was unconscious in the water. My poor Uncle [older [not OLD-old] and having some degree of mobility issues] dove in and pulled my a** back up outta there [which explained why he was freaking soaked when I first looked at him].
"Uncle" Vito told me he was gonna drive me straight to the nearest hospital [which would be WHERE in the wilderness of the Adirondacks?], but that's where I had problems. He argued that I might have a contusion, and then I told him I didn't because my head wasn't in any pain at all. He wasn't exactly convinced, and then he said he would call my parents to tell them what happened.
Yeah.
My mom would freak out [which is what she did later] and my dad would say, "You got yours, b***h." [Well, not like that. B/;; In exagurated terms]. He's still off-the-wall about my accidental binge-drinking and getting myself chop-sueyed by God-knows-who. Kerry and Michael [two of my close friends] broke up because of what happened to me [yet ANOTHER THING to weigh on my conscience]. Kerry hates Michael and even punched the guy in the face [aggressive girl she can be, despite her good-girl personality........;], and Michael's. . .... I don't even know... I haven't seen or heard from him since that night last week..... I tried stopping by his place last week, but he wouldn't even see me....
Drama, drama, drama. Who needs it, am I right? Teen drama is the worst, most unneeded kind there is.
So now, I'm in bed ["doctor's" orders], typing away.
Ciao.
 Kiku Drives A Honda · Wed Jul 27, 2011 @ 11:18pm · 0 Comments |
