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“What is that?!” Mirabelle squeaked. “It’s so ugly!“
I'm 'a homeschooler' because cookie-making writing artistic animal-whisperer isn't a job title
“Wait, what is it? A monster!”
“pphhtt, it’s you” Mirabelle said standing up.
“Shut up,” I said, walking past her back to the window. “Something was actually there. And it might hear us.”
Lately, it's been on my brain
Would you mind letting me know
If hours don't turn into daysMirabelle crossed her arms, “We’ve never seen anything, how is there anything there to see or hear us?”
I shrugged, I was the only witness to the supernatural goings-on in the night. “One thing you never consider is how we have an endless supply of spaghetti.”
We crazy people are the normal ones.
Munch munch munch.
Mirabelle and I whirled towards the pantry in the corner of the kitchen.
Standing in the pantry was a figure feasting on the last raspberry Poptart.
Flawless and handsome (as ruled by my grandmother.)
Fear rippled through my body and I grabbed the closest thing in reach (which happened to be a mostly empty domino’s pizza box) and chucked it at the figure.
The pizza box bounced harmlessly off the figure’s back, and it spun around Poptart box still in hand.
My heart dropped to my feet; that figure… that person… that thing, was me.
Mirabelle looked at it nervously, unconsciously moving closer to me, her previous confidence dissipating as she looked at it, confused and nervous.
“Another reflection?”
I shifted my hand over on the kitchen’s island counter next to me, once again grabbing the closest weapon in reach–a rubber spatula.I wielded my spatula boldly and with confidence, albeit somewhat wavering below the surface.
“Oh. Hey, man,” the figure—me—the thing—I don’t even know crunched up the last of its Poptart, “what’s up?”
It smiled.
staring at the fields
if nothing's really real
i'll make the winter now my home“Remember that time you cheated during Jenga?” It, myself, asked with confidence.
Terrified, I reached the silverware drawer and began hurling forks at my reflection. Unfazed by the cascade of utensils, my duo continued to spill my deepest secrets as Mirabelle’s eyes widened.
Some people fail; others learn what not to try.
“Did you really think that you could keep this from Mirabelle forever? When we met that night-”
“WHY ARE YOU HERE You were never suppose to come back, you had all the chipotle you could ask for!
Flawless and handsome (as ruled by my grandmother.)
Mirabelle crossed her arms “Wait, let me get this straight; your double ganger was blackmailing you and you were appeasing him with Chipotle?”
Milo’s double ganger’s smile widened “Yo, your sister is smart lol.”
“She’s ten, of course she’s smart; have you never met a ten year old before?”
The figure–me–shrugged.
It’s outline seemed to flicker in the light of the kitchen. Then it changed shape.It took the form of a small cute kitten. Mirabelle, of course, awwed and ran over, picking it up before I could stop her.
Lately, it's been on my brain
Would you mind letting me know
If hours don't turn into daysAs Mirabelle picked up the smoky gray kitten and began petting it, it transformed itself back into me and grabbed Mirabelle by the wrist.
“Now we have her,” the terrifying version of me stated.
“We????” I screamed, “Let her go or else!!”
Some people fail; others learn what not to try.
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