I am unique.
My father used to say I inherited it from my mother. Before he died, that is. Actually, he stopped talking about my mother after he married my step-mother. I suppose it was because he did not want to upset her by talking about his previous wife. Frankly, it offended me. He stopped saying anything about her, even "Your mother would be proud of you, Cindy."
I try to understand this. My step-mother is very sensitive and selfish. She toes the line of insanity almost constantly. My father tried to keep her happy and sane. I suppose it was because of my mother.
My mother was special. She was beautiful and alive in the day. She was always laughing as long as the sun was up. But once the sun set, she became angry and moody. Father said that this meant she was insane to his friends. But to me, he said she was...unique.
He did not know the truth though. She was unique like me.
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Ringo-Ichigo's random stories
I'll just be writing short stories up here about whatever I feel like. They could be fanfiction, mysteries, ghost stories, dreams, or anything. Think of this as a little smidgen of what goes on in my head.
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