That time of the week...

Work is killing me , so I have barely been able to find the time to update this blog of late.
That being said, there's always time for 55 words:

VISIONS

I

By the time the son came into his own, the father had already become a shadow of his former self, almost an impostor. One was thus left with a strange sort of double-vision, whereby only he who was not the father could plausibly incarnate what the father had once been. Time regained, time lost...

II

While most nine-year olds might have found being eaten alive by their bedroom cupboard to be less than pleasant, he'd always been irritatingly different that way. After all, what was being disemboweled compared to the joy of being right? He wished he could see his parents' faces now. "Don't be a baby," they'd said...