Fanfic idea... would welcome comments!

Okay, so it's not Bch, BH, or DW related, but this idea came to me the other day for a Harry Potter fanfic...

Don't hate me...

Lily Luna Potter. Third child and only daughter of the great Harry Potter, and named for the woman who gave her own life to protect his. As fiery as her mother, they said, and as brave as her father. As kind and as loyal as both of her parents.
Or so they said.
And Lily Luna Potter was sick of it.
Whispers followed her wherever she went. Like her father, she had been confused and a little embarrassed at first, but she grew to resent it over time. To hate it, even.
It was no different today. It was the first of September, 2019. She was eleven years old, and she was finally going to Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. She stood with her family on platform nine and three quarters, staring in awe at the scarlet steam train that she had dreamed about for three years now, ever since she had first seen it carry away her eldest brother, James. And now it was her turn. She was the happiest she had ever been, but the whispers were still there, tainting the moment.
“Are you excited?” asked her father.
She looked up at him, noting the many strangers around them doing the same. Her lips stretched into a grin, and she nodded. He smiled too, and ruffled her hair.
“Dad!” she cried indignantly, trying to smooth it back down. Harry laughed, and pulled her into a hug.
“You look beautiful” he told her.
“He’s right” said her mother, beaming at her youngest daughter. “I’m so proud of you, Lily.”
She grinned at both of them, temporarily forgetting the whisperers around her. She was going to Hogwarts!
“Well look who it is!” came a voice. She turned to see a red haired man approaching their group, followed by a woman with glossy chestnut curls.
“Uncle Ron!” she called. “Aunt Hermione!”
“Hey Lil!” smiled her Aunt.
“Hi Lily. Like the hair.” Said Ron with a wink. She pouted and went back to smoothing it down, much to the amusement of the four adults. “So, you guys are early.” Her uncle continued, looking around at the half empty platform.
“Yeah” said Harry with a grin. “Somebody got us up at five this morning to make sure we didn’t miss the train.” He shot a meaningful glance to Lily. She stuck out her tongue, and he laughed.
“Lily!”
She turned to the source of the voice to see a red haired boy her own age hurrying up the platform, dragging a huge suitcase behind him.
“Hugo!” she greeted with a grin. Her favourite cousin smiled back, but then resumed panting with exertion.
“See!” he told Ron and Hermione eventually. “Told you I could do it!”
“Well done” said his mother with a smile. Then she glanced around. “Where’s Rose?”
“She’s talking to James and Albus over there” Hugo muttered, still out of breath, and gesturing to a point a short way away, where, sure enough, three figures were engaged in conversation.
“Come on!” said Lily, taking Hugo by the arm. “We need to put our luggage on the train!”
She scooped up the cage containing her brand new raven, Atara, and her own case, and dragged her cousin back along the platform to the luggage bay.
They carefully placed their things amongst the pile of other cases, and raced back to their parents, laughing. Hugo was pulling ahead of her, and she put on a bust of speed, still giggling...
Until she almost ran straight into someone.
She skidded to a halt, and looked up at the man. He had longish hair that was so blonde it was almost white, and his eyes were a steely grey.
She felt slightly intimidated by this man, almost frightened, as he looked down at her with his cold eyes.
At that moment, she felt a presence approach her, and turned to see her father coming over.
“Lily, apologise.” He scolded lightly, placing a hand on her shoulder.
“Sorry sir” she said in a small voice.
“That’s quite alright.” The man said, with a hint of a drawl to his voice. He glanced at her father. “Potter.” He said, nodding slightly in greeting.
“Malfoy” he replied.
There was a pause, before Malfoy turned and walked away.
“Who was that?” asked Lily in a whisper.
“An old... friend.” Her father replied, with only a small hesitation.
“Right” said Lily sarcastically, but with a smile.
“Come on” said Harry, rolling his eyes and beckoning her back to the rest of the group.

That's just the first bit, and the only bit I've typed up, but the plan is to get her sorted into Slytherin and have lots of problems arise because of this. What do you guys think?

An idea I got from an episode of BH... Basically Adam and Christa follow Matt after he has been dragged into purgatory and relive a load of memories before they can get him back. (I think you can guess which ep gave me this idea... )

Barely any reason or rhyme to it at he moment, just a bunch of paragraphs, but if you have any ideas for memories or tips to improve, please comment. Thanks!
PS: Any words written ^like this^ will be in italics on the final product - I wrote these in the notes section on my iPod. But enough rambling! Enjoy!

Entering Death
They landed in a heap on the other side of the door, before scrambling up and taking fighting stances. Then they looked around warily. 
They were in a long corridor, bright white and gleaming with hidden light. All along the passage were doors, of all different shapes, sizes, and colours. There was a large dark oak one with a brass doorknob, a flimsy white one with a dented handle, a metal one with a small rectangular window at eye level. 
"Where are we?" asked Christa in a whisper. She shot a glance at Adam to gauge his reaction. His eyes were wide in wonder, darting around the space curiously. Only her question startled him back to awareness, and he looked at her with confused eyes. 
"I've seen this place before" he murmured, glancing around again. 
"What is it?" she asked, more quietly this time. 
"Death." he answered numbly. "We're in purgatory."

Adam's Transformation
They stepped through the door nervously. It took a moment for their eyes to adjust; unlike the bright white walls of purgatory, it was dark here. By the time they were finally able to take in their surroundings, the door had vanished, leaving in it's place a low metal gate, painted green. It was attached to a waist-high fence that encircled several objects, surrounded by tarmac. There was a slide, a climbing frame, a roundabout. It was a children's playground. 
Sitting on the swings in the middle of the playground sat a dark figure. Christa moved closer, confirming her suspicions. It was Adam. He looked a little more flushed than she was used to, and the dark circles under his eyes were far less pronounced, but it was still definitely him. She turned to look at the older version of him, only to find him frozen in the spot where they had first arrived. 
"Adam?" she asked cautiously "What is it?"
This was his past, after all, and it was obvious that he recognised this moment. She took a step back towards him, and it seemed to snap him out of his reverie. 
He turned back to the gate and started frantically trying to drag it open, scrabbling at the bars like they were his last hope. When it became obvious that it wouldn't work, he began pounding at the bars with his fist, and then tried to climb over the fence, only to have some invisible force hold him back. 
"Adam!" Christa cried again, louder this time. He turned to look at her, and she was shocked to see the blind panic in his eyes. "It's just a memory" she reminded him, putting a hand on his shoulder. 
He gritted his teeth, and, after giving the bars one more fruitless punch, turned and slid down them, dropping his head into his hands. She noticed that his knuckles were bleeding. 
"Hey Cara!"
The voice of the past Adam snapped them from their thoughts, and they both looked up to see him wave to a figure just outside the bars. Whoever it was gracefully hopped over the fence, giving them a clearer view of her face. 
She was pale, but pretty, with wide blue eyes, and blonde hair held up in a style that had obviously required a ^lot^ of hairspray. 
Adam dropped his head back into his hands with a small groan. 
Past Adam, on the other hand, gave her curvy figure an appreciative gaze. 
"Why haven't you been at school lately?" he asked her. Then he winked. "I missed you."
"My face is up here" she said with an icy smile. He reluctantly dragged his eyes up to meet hers. "I don't think you missed all of me, did you Adam?"
"I missed a decent amount of you." he replied, his eyes drifting back to her cleavage. Christa rolled her eyes silently; he hadn't changed a bit. "So what was with the skipping?" he asked casually. 
"Oh, I've still been having lessons" she said with a tinkling laugh. Then she stepped forwards, and her voice became husky as she whispered; "Want me to show you what I learned?"
"I ^am^ a good pupil" he replied, standing from the swing and subconsciously licking his lips. The girl smiled widely, showing her perfect white teeth... which grew suddenly sharper and more deadly as her eyes turned black...
Adam's face was still buried in his hands, but he couldn't block out the screams of his past self. He remembered each and every one of them, despite the pain that had clouded his mind and soul. He remembered the screams. 
Christa was... utterly horrified. The calm, clinical part of her mind noted that she had always thought of vampires as quite clean killers, but this was far more brutal than she could have imagined. The rest of her mind was occupied with the scarlet blood soaking the tarmac, the gaping hole in Adam's neck, the bubbling shrieks pouring from his mouth, the terror in his eyes, the cracking noises his bones made every time the monster that held him twisted him to a different angle, trying to drain the last few drops...
And then it stopped, and the monster threw him down onto the floor. By some miracle, he was still breathing, still conscious, though he would be dead within minutes. The blonde vampire seemed to consider him for a moment, tilting her head to one side. Then she knelt back down to him. He tried desperately with all his strength to escape, but all he could manage was to cringe away. 
"Shhh" she whispered, stroking the blood-matted hair back from his face. "It'll be okay. Dying can be quite a ride." she gave the tinkling laugh again, but this time it was icy. "But still." she said speculatively, studying him. "It seems a waste to let such a pretty face rot." She pondered this for a moment. "I know!" she exclaimed with glee, and she lifted her thumb to her mouth, pricking it with her tooth. She squeezed it until a glistening red droplet formed, and guided it over the mouth of her victim. The droplet stayed suspended for a few seconds, before falling straight between his lips. Within seconds, the panicked rise and fall of his chest had stopped, and Adam Jacobs died.

Christa's Paranoia
The next door they tried was made of dark oak, with a worn brass doorknob. It was heavy, but hardly a problem for the vampire or the werewolf. The hinges creaked as they forced it open. The room beyond was luxurious, with wood panelled walls and black slate floors. There were several white leather sofas on a thick black rug, surrounding a large flat screen TV. Adam whistled appreciatively, but Christa merely scowled, slumping down onto one of the leather chairs with an irritated huff. Adam followed suit, and stretched out luxuriantly on the sofa opposite hers. 
"I could get used to this." he said with a contented sigh. 
"Don't." replied Christa flatly. 
At that moment, voices began to echo through the doorway behind them. Three people walked through, and Adam had to scramble out of the way as a harried-looking man in a crisp suit and a tall woman with a stern face and impeccable white blouse sat down in the place he had just occupied. The third person remained standing. 
At first, Adam didn't recognise her. She was wearing a tight, long sleeved jumper with skinny jeans. Her make-up was flawless but subtle, and her hair was clean and shiny, curled into gentle waves around her face. 
The vampire's gaze flitted repeatedly between Christa and the girl, seeing the resemblance but not quite believing it. The werewolf just rolled her eyes, and sunk deeper into the sofa. 
Only when the past Christa spoke did Adam's brain catch on to what his eyes were telling him. 
"Look, I just really think this is important!" she said, beseeching the two people sat before her. 
"Christa, really" sighed the man, pinching the bridge of his nose. "Of ^course^ you're stressed after the... accident, but you really need to keep a firm grasp of what's real and what's-"
"It isn't in my head!" past Christa snapped, beginning to pace. "I can feel it!"
"I looked up your symptoms, dear" said the woman in a bored tone. "You are experiencing post traumatic-"
"Symptoms?" cried past Christa with outrage. "This isn't some disease! It's a curse!" 
"Now Christa, we've talked about this" said the man, looking even more stressed. "There's no such thing as curses."
"Prove it!" she snarled, stopping her pacing and rounding on him. 
"Christa-"
"No! You have no idea what I'm going through right now!"
"Christa!" shouted the woman sternly. "You're almost fully healed. It really is time to give up these delusions, it's been a month since the accident."
Adam's eyes widened as he realised what was going on, and he glanced at the present-day Christa. She was watching the proceedings with a frown. 
"When was this?" he asked her in a whisper. 
She looked over at him with an unreadable expression. 
"The day of my first transformation." she whispered back. 
"I'm not having delusions!" past Christa fumed, cutting off Adam's response. "I'm telling you, something's going to happen tonight! I know it! I need you to believe me!" her voice cracked. 
"That's ^enough^!" shouted the man, standing up abruptly. "You will stop this nonsense ^at once^, do you understand me?" 
Past Christa clenched her fists, ready to argue, but then... all the fight seemed to drain out of her, and she turned away and left the room with a meek;
"Yes Dad."
There was a silence for a moment, in which they could hear the other Christa's soft footsteps padding up the staircase. The man sighed. 
"I don't know what we're going to do with that girl." he said mournfully. 
That's when the door reappeared. 

Unfinished Section - Adam Researches Vampires
Adam Jacobs was sat in a dark room, the only light a faint glow emitting from what looked like an ancient computer. 
"I've seen one of those before" Christa remarked. "I think it was at a museum."
"The old IBM PC." said present-day Adam fondly. 
"It's a box" the werewolf deadpanned. 
"It's a miracle of human engineering!" cried the vampire, jumping to the machine's defence. "In '81, this was state of the art!"
"In that case, I am very glad that I was not born in the '80s."
"Kids today" Adam muttered, kicking a nearby chair. "No culture."
"Careful grandpa" Christa snickered. "You'll break your hip again!"
"Can we stop making fun of my age now?"
"Why? Touchy subject?"
He stared at her. 
"I'm immortal." he reminded her. 
"I wouldn't be so sure." she smirked. "Is that a grey hair I see?"
"It's the stress." he sighed dramatically. "I blame you."
She almost laughed. Then she noticed something else on the desk, that she had previously missed in the semi-darkness. 
"Hey." she murmured, moving closer to the past Adam to get a better look. 
It was a book, open to a page on vampires. She glanced at Adam - present-day Adam - but he just shrugged, somewhat guiltily. 
"I was curious." was all he said. 
A closer look at past Adam revealed two half-healed holes punctuating a long jagged scar marring his neck. 
Christa closed her eyes, remembering the horrors behind the green door. 
The past Adam suddenly sat up straight from reading off of the computer screen, and his  fingers wrenched his collar up to cover his neck as his gaze darted to the door. A moment later, footsteps began to echo outside it, and a dark haired woman entered the room. 
Present-day Adam stared at the woman with an expression of mingled shock, pain and grief. His eyes followed her as she tutted disapprovingly at the darkness of the room, and moved to open the curtains. 
"No!" cried past Adam suddenly, seeing what she was about to do. She paused with one hand on the drapes, and turned to look at him. 
"Honestly Adam!" she sighed, though a kindly smile lingered at the corners of her mouth. "You can't live your whole life in the dark!"
"I have to" growled the boy, though there was something vulnerable about the way he said it. The woman must have heard it too, for she moved to kneel next to him. 
"Nobody should have to live in darkness. No matter who they are."
"Or rather what they are." the boy muttered. 
The woman's expression grew very concerned. 
"Why won't you tell me what's wrong, Adam? First you come home, all in a panic and covered in mud, then you lock yourself away in the dark for days on end! What am I supposed to make of that?"
Her voice was not angry. On the contrary, she was genuinely concerned. 
"I can't tell you" past Adam murmured, but his voice cracked. 
"You're my son." the woman said softly. "You can tell me anything."
The boy looked at her with pained eyes. 
"I'm a... monster" he murmured. 

this is good..... how could i not notice this before????

Just a quick one... it will be the opening to the one above, but it's not finished yet. As I said, very short, but it made me smile

Adam, Christa and Matt were wandering down the hall filled with screeching year sevens, somber year tens stunned silent by the shock of GCSEs, and a few year eights yelling at a year eleven couple by the wall to get a room. A short year nine girl shuddered as Matt accidentally walked through her. 
"Sorry!" he muttered, but of course, she didn't hear him. Being a ghost made that kind of thing awkward. 
"I still can't get used to that." he muttered. 
"What?" asked Christa quietly. She didn't look at him; she and Adam had learned pretty quickly that talking to thin air only pulled them lower down the social food chain. Even the school chess team looked down on them. It was getting embarrassing. 
"The walking through stuff." Matt elaborated. "I don't like it, it creeps me out."
"So says the ghost to the werewolf" smirked Adam. 
"Get off of your high horse, Dracula" Christa retorted. "You're the creepiest one here"
The pale boy raised his eyebrows. 
"Oh yeah? How'd you work that one out?"
"You're a fourty-seven year old man pretending to be a sixteen year old schoolboy."
He just smirked. 
"At least I'm consistent."
"Consistently annoying." she shot back. He shrugged. 
"I try. You're just jealous that I got a higher mark than you in the Biology mock."
"The test was on haematology. You had an unfair advantage."
"Well then when we cover the internal anatomy of forest animals, I expect you on top form."
"Shut up."
He grinned, having gained the upper hand, and she stalked ahead of him with her head held high.

Okay, I've recently gotten into South Park, and wanted to give myself a go at writing it... The end of this one is not suitable for the faint hearted... there is something incredibly wrong and twisted somewhere in my brain...


“Guys” Muttered Cartman, staring down the hall. “Uhh, who’s that?"

We followed his gaze. A boy was striding down the path self importantly, dressed all in black, from his leather jacket and denim jeans, right down to his hair, which was blatantly dyed. He was wearing mirrored shades that obscured half of his face, but it looked kinda like...

“Dude...” I whispered. “Is that... Butters?”

“No freakin’ way that’s Butters, man” Cartman snorted. “Butters is a loser.”

“No, dude, that’s definitely Butters.” Stan asserted beside me.

“Holy f*ck.” Kenny said simply.

Yep, that about summed it up.

“I’m telling you guys” Cartman insisted. “That isn’t Butters. It’s gotta be his evil twin or something.”

“You are so full of sh*t, fatass” I said, not looking at him.

“Aye!” He snapped. “I’m not fat, ya goddamn Jew!”

“Are too!” I shot back. “You’re so fat you have your own area code, fatass!”

“Don’t call me fat!” He shouted, screwing up his face in rage and shaking his fists in front of his chest. Kenny and Stan snickered, and I grinned. He was just too easy to wind up.

“Hey fellas.” Came Butters’ voice. The way in which he said the usually cheery greeting sounded somehow... sinister. We all looked at him.

“Hey... Butters.” Said Stan, unsure. Butters gave him a cold smirk that didn’t reach his eyes. Sh*t, what had gotten into him?

“What’s up?” I asked, trying to relieve some of the building tension.

"Not much.” He replied, in that same icy tone. It freaked me out. “Just... hanging out.”

“Right...” I muttered. “So... uh...” I desperately floundered for something to say, to break the horrible silence now settling over us. “Did you hear that Red and Craig are going out now?”

“Yeah, I heard that too!” Stan cut in, coming to my rescue. “And everyone's calling Red a huge whore, 'cause she was going out with Clyde last week, and Token the week before.”

“Right!”

“No, come on you guys, everyone knows that the biggest whore in the school is Kenny.” Cartman added.

We all glanced at Kenny, expecting him to protest, but he just shrugged, and turned to Butters.

“So, are you Goth now?” He asked in a voice muffled by his jacket.

“Not quite.” He smirked. “I just... got myself a new perspective.”

“A new perspective?” Kenny repeated. “What the f*ck is that supposed to mean?”

He just smirked.

"Long story"

“I’m so seriously, you guys!” Cartman whispered out of the corner of his mouth. “He’s an evil twin!”

Butters heard, and let out a chilling laugh.

“Nice theory.” He drawled sarcastically. “But you’re wrong.”

“That’s exactly what an evil twin would say!” He countered. Butters just rolled his eyes.

“Fine. If it helps you sleep at night, Eric” He spat the name out as if it was distasteful “Then yes. I’m the evil twin of Leopold Butters Stotch. I broke out of the prison I’ve been kept in for ten years.” He leaned in close to Cartman’s face, and whispered. “And then I broke little Butters’ neck.” He leaned back again with a leer, and continued in an offhand tone; “I buried half of his body in the woods, where nobody would ever find it, and the other half I threw into Stark’s Pond so that the water would decompose it beyond recognition. Not that anyone would be looking, of course, as I would take over his life and act as if nothing had happened. Nobody would suspect a thing. But, of course, I didn’t count on the incredible astuteness of Eric Cartman to foil my plan.” He began to clap slowly and sarcastically. “Well done, Mr Cartman, well done. You managed to catch me out. Congratulations.”

Cartman just looked at him for a second, with his mouth slightly agape, and then spun on the spot to face us.

“HA!” He shouted, pointing at us. “I told you guys! I was right!”

We just stared at him disbelievingly, as he continued to laugh. Had he honestly not noticed the sarcasm that had been dripping from every word of that exceedingly morbid speech?

“You really are as thick as you are wide, aren’t you?” Butters laughed sardonically.

"Aye!"
“What are you going to do?” Butters asked with a malicious grin.

“I'll make you eat your parents!” Cartman shot back threateningly.

“Be sure to use plenty of sweetener.” He replied coldly. “They've always been very... bitter.”

“Dude!” Cried Stan, his expression part admiration, part horror.

Butters smirked again, but this time there was something dangerous behind his eyes. Something... uncontrolled.

"Problem, Stan?” He asked smoothly.

“Dude, what's gotten into you?” My best friend asked. “You're being all creepy and stuff.”

He gave that icy laugh again, and it sent a chill down my spine.

“Creepy?” He repeated, and then slipped back into his old cheerful tone for a second; “Well gosh, fellas, that's not like me at all! Maybe I really am an evil twin, huh?” He laughed, and then the smooth, cold voice was back. “Or maybe I grew the f*ck up.”

“Jesus, Butters, when did you grow a pair?” asked Kenny with a muffled chuckle.

Butters' eyes narrowed.

“Watch it, McCormick.” He spat.

“Uh, excuse me?” Kenny said incredulously.

The boy took a step towards Kenny, one eyebrow raised in a challenge.

"You heard me.” He hissed.
“Well, yeah” the poorer boy shot back flippantly. “but I never thought I'd hear such big talk from such a little pussy.”

I could tell that that had been the wrong thing to say, the moment the words had been spoken. I felt my heart speed up, pounding a painfully frenzied beat against the inside of my ribcage, and I realised that I was scared. Of Butters.

Of f*cking Butters.

I would have forced myself to have a good long reality check, if what happened next hadn't confirmed my fear. And then some.

The once cheerful boy's eyes flashed dangerously, and he drew back his fist, punching our parka-clad friend in the stomach.

But his fist didn't stop when it hit Kenny's chest. It just kept on going, tearing through that parka in what felt like slow motion. We all heard the cracking of ribs and the shredding of muscle as Butters' punch sailed right through Kenny's torso...

And out the other side.

There was a horrifying, crushing moment when the only thing holding him upright was the arm embedded in his chest, during which the scientific part of my mind tried to tell me that Kenny's spine must still be intact, because the poor bastard was still alive – despite the blood gushing from his wound and draining off of the leather of Butters' jacket.

Kenny's eyes were wide in horror, but with Butters' arm wedged between his lungs, he couldn't draw breath to scream. Not even when his attacker gave a sick smile, and wrenched his arm back out with a sharp crack.

There went that spine.

He went down instantly, eyes glazing over.

Horror-stricken silence.

“Oh my god!” shouted Stan in utter shock. “He killed Kenny!"

“You bastard!” I cried. “Holy f*cking sh*t, you f*cking bastard!”

Gibberish mixed in with appalled curses tumbled from my mouth, but I was silenced when I heard Cartman's next words.

“Dude, that was bad ass!” called Cartman excitedly. “Did you guys see that!? That was totally sweet!”

“Cartman, you f*cking asshole, he just killed Kenny!”

“I know!” he replied with sickening enthusiasm. “It was totally awesome!”

“He just killed one of your friends!” I snarled.

“Nuh uh!” the asshole shot back. “'Cause Butters is my friend now. Screw you guys!"

He sidled up to Butters, who looked at him with distain, absently flicking his arm to remove Kenny’s blood from his jacket.

“I’m not your friend, you sadistic little creep.” He told Cartman with a glare.

“Uh... what?” the fat boy asked, confused.

“Get out of my way, unless you want to be next.” Butters reiterated.

“Look, Butters, dude-” he began, but the other cut him off.

“I won't be manipulated any more, jackass.” he said calmly. “Last warning. Piss off before I flay you.”

Cartman looked like he was about to protest, but the sight of Kenny's mutated body made him rethink the idea. He left like a shot.

“Dude.” I tried once more. “What happened to you, Butters?”

He spared me a cold glance.

“Butters is gone. Call me Leo.”

And with that, Leopold Butters Stotch turned on his heel and left, his eyes cold, and his arm still drenched in Kenny's blood.


Yeah, told you I was wrong in the head. Anyway... seeya!

It was late when I got home. Eric had persuaded me to help him with one of his crazy plans again, and by the time we had failed to suppress innocent minorities and learned our valuable life-lesson, my curfew had long since passed.

I opened the door as silently as I could, hoping that mom and dad were in bed already, so I could save the inevitable shit-storm for tomorrow. Of course, I should have known better. Stephen and Linda Stotch never missed an opportunity to scold their son.

“Butters!”

Crap.

“Uhh, hi dad...” I muttered. I made sure to keep my posture as submissive as possible – eyes lowered, head bowed, shoulders down... wringing my hands, nice touch. I just wanted to get this over with. I just wanted to go to bed.

“Do you have any idea what time it is, young man!?” My father bellowed.

“Yes Sir.”

“Well would you like to explain why you’re coming home at eleven ‘o’ clock!”

Jeez, was that all it was? My watch must be wrong. I was more tired than I realised.

“I’m sorry, Sir.”

“I didn’t ask for an apology, Butters, I asked for an explanation!”

“I was just out with-”

“Don’t try and talk your way out of this, Butters!” My father hollered. “This is unacceptable!”

“Yes Sir.”

God, I swear he got a hard-on whenever he told me off; he seemed to enjoy it so much. Probably why he did it so often. Honestly, one of these days, I’m just gonna-

“Are you even listening to me Butters?”

Nope, not at all.

“Yes Sir.”

“Are you trying to be clever, young man!?”

Uh oh, submissive posture failing... I ducked my head lower.

“No Sir.”

“Good, because it doesn’t suit you!”

Ooh, ouch. Low blow, dad. And also completely untrue, but I won’t point that out.

There were a few more minutes of screaming, which I punctuated with mutterings of “Yes sir”, “No Sir” and “Three bags full, Sir” until he finally grounded me and sent me up to my room so he could get rid of his boner. Dickhead.

I made my way upstairs quickly, making a beeline for the bed. I briefly considered not bothering to get changed, but changed my mind when I pictured the fight in the morning when my parents found out.

I really didn’t care about upsetting my parents, but they just made such a big deal out of everything. The best way to deal with it was to put on this act. The docile, naive, frightened little boy who’d do whatever his parents wanted him to. Who, when they told him to jump, would ask; “How high?” Sweet little Butters who said ‘heck’ instead of ‘hell’, who tried his very best at everything he did. It had seeped into school life, too, now I knew that my parents had instructed my teachers to report back on my behaviour. I barely had any time to actually be myself anymore.

There were times when I entertained the idea of answering back to my parents. Actually voicing the retorts that ran through my head as they shrieked at me. Holding my own in an argument for once.

But it’s just habit. An argument starts, I adopt the ‘meek little Butters’ pose, and let the noise wash over me until they run out of energy. And try very, very hard not to roll my eyes.

I got into bed with a sigh, stretching out on the mattress. I had, somehow, convinced my parents to let me get a double, so I had room to spread out. I think the main reason they agreed was that they assumed I would never get a girlfriend, so didn’t want it for any ‘funny business’.

God my family sucks.

That was my last thought before I rolled over, and fell asleep.


I awoke to light streaming in through the curtains, and breathed a sigh of relief. It was Saturday. Mom and dad both had to work overtime today, and there was no school, so I had a day of relative freedom. Of course, I was technically grounded, so I couldn’t go anywhere where people could see me and report back to my parents, but just a day of peace and quiet was plenty enough for me.

“Butters!”

There went that theory.

I traipsed downstairs in my pyjamas – the longer I took to come down, the longer I would be shouted at. There was no point getting dressed.

I paused at the foot of the stairs, to see my father in the living room, expression furious. The room itself was... well, it kinda looked like a very pissed of rhino had somehow gotten the keys to our house.

“Look at this mess, Butters!” My father shouted. “Look at it!”

“I see it, Sir.”

“This is your fault, young man!”

“It is?”

How’d he work that one out?

“Your insolence last night drove me to this! Do you understand me!?”

“Yes Sir.”

Oh, I see. He meant that it was his fault, and he wanted me to clear it up.

“Now you need to take responsibility for your actions, Butters, and clean up this mess!”

Yep, there we go.

He threw a dustpan and brush at me, before turning to the door.

“I want this room spotless by the time I get back, is that clear?” He threw over his shoulder.

“Yes Sir.”

And with that, the door slammed shut and I was alone.

I glared at the chaos surrounding me, ruining my good day.

Wait... Chaos.

I smirked, and picked my way across the floor to the phone.

It was answered on the second ring.

“Hello?”

“Hey Dougie” I grinned. “Fancy earning some cash?”

“Famous last words. How?”

“My front room looks like it was attacked by a wild animal.”

“What sort of wild animal? Are we talking rabbits, or-”

“Dougie.”

He heaved a dramatic sigh.

“Fine. How much are you offering?”

“Ten dollars.”

“Pssh. Make it fifteen and I’m there.”

“You’re on.”

“See ya in a few.”

He hung up.

“Well, that simplifies matters.” I said aloud. I decided to make a start on the mess, to pass the time until Dougie arrived to take over. I stood a few picture frames back on their shelves, flung the cushions back onto the couch, pushed the TV back to the corner it was supposed to be in...

I was picking up a few books to put back on the bookshelf, when one of them slipped from my hands and fell with a thud onto the floor. I swore, and bent to pick it up, only to find it far lighter than I’d imagined. Opening it, I saw that the insides of all of the pages had been cut out, essentially hollowing it out – leaving space for the smaller, black book hidden inside.

Frowning, I picked out the smaller book, placing the larger one which had encased it back on the bookshelf. It had no text on the front, but appeared to be bound in black leather.

That was when a knock at the door startled me back to awareness. I slipped the little book into my pocket, and went to answer the door.

A boy a few years younger than me stood there, glasses perched on top of his frizzy ginger hair. He peered around me to see the disaster in the room beyond.

“Woah. If I'd seen this beforehand, I'd have asked for more money.” he remarked. I smirked.

“You already agreed.”

“I know, I know.”

I rolled my eyes at his dismal expression.

“Maybe I'll tip you for good service.” I told him.

“Yeah, yeah, now go away and let me work.”

I grinned.

“Cheers Dougie.”

I padded back upstairs while my younger friend tidied the living room. Time to get back to that day of peace and quiet.

Back again! This is the beginning of the one above. Far less morbid at this point though. Enjoy!