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stringsavantMy name is Elliot Mercredi.
My mother is not of this world, and my father is so far removed from it that he may as well not be.
I have a twin sister. I love her. She is the only person I feel very strongly toward.
I do not like tests of any kind. I do not like bright lights. I do not like loud sounds like dogsbarking doorsslamming sirenscrying glassbreaking. I like the color white, like Dad's shirts, and red, like Mom's eyes. I hate the color yellow, like my Lustful aunt's hair. I like vanilla ice cream and apples. I will not ever under any circumstances eat lemons applesauce bananas mustard eggs cheese squash corn pineapple scallops and anything else that is yellow. I do not talk; usually, it's not because I can't (but sometimes, my voice sticks in my throat and this is a lie in those cases.) I don't know why. I don't think it's because people wouldn't be interested in what I have to say. If anything, it's because I don't think that I would be interested.
The old man with the mustache wanted me to be a genius detective like my father. Only half of his wish came true. I wanted to be a musician instead of a crime solver, ever since my Dad gave me a violin because he knows what it's like to have your voice dry up when someone looks you in the eyes. I compose symphonies and play the violin; it is my connection and my escape, the the people closest to me usually know which one I'm looking for. Anita always does.
Aside from my sister, my Dad has always understood me best. He is the smartest man alive, and he is very similar to me, seeing the world differently, seeming to come from somewhere else and stranded from returning He will die when he is in his early forties. Maybe that's a longer life than he was meant to have, but it will still be a short life by human standards, and to add insult to inevitability, it will be his own remarkable brain that kills him. Not suicide or madness, like will probably happen to me, but a tumor that wants him dead as fast as possible. I will think that he could have lived longer if he'd just taken better care of himself, and this will upset me and cause me to push him away, but my mother has always taken exceptionally good care of both of us. I will not see I'm wrong to be angry with him until very late in my own life, if I do at all. Maybe I never will.
My mother is the embodiment of Sloth. She used to be a demon; she became a human when she fell in love with my father. They did sex in a different world, and even though it shouldn't have been possible, my mother got pregnant. I think it was supposed to be one, but the witch who plays with Mom and her sisters made us two. Mother made her way to the human world, a world in which my parents never did sex, and that's where we who should never have existed drew our first breaths.
Anita's stronger than me; she always has been, mentally and physically. Sometimes I wonder if she resents the fact that she and our mother have to protect me from so many things.
I also wonder what we would have been like if we'd stayed one. Would I be normal? Would she be beautiful? Would we still have genius, and acting, and girlfriends, and would we love ourself, instead of always wishing we knew what it is like on the other side?
We are unfortunate. Our stories won't have a happy ending. There will be very bad times, but I think there will be good times, too. And maybe that's what matters more. Forget theending until the time comes. It won't mean anything to you until you know what came before.
My mother is not of this world, and my father is so far removed from it that he may as well not be.
I have a twin sister. I love her. She is the only person I feel very strongly toward.
I do not like tests of any kind. I do not like bright lights. I do not like loud sounds like dogsbarking doorsslamming sirenscrying glassbreaking. I like the color white, like Dad's shirts, and red, like Mom's eyes. I hate the color yellow, like my Lustful aunt's hair. I like vanilla ice cream and apples. I will not ever under any circumstances eat lemons applesauce bananas mustard eggs cheese squash corn pineapple scallops and anything else that is yellow. I do not talk; usually, it's not because I can't (but sometimes, my voice sticks in my throat and this is a lie in those cases.) I don't know why. I don't think it's because people wouldn't be interested in what I have to say. If anything, it's because I don't think that I would be interested.
The old man with the mustache wanted me to be a genius detective like my father. Only half of his wish came true. I wanted to be a musician instead of a crime solver, ever since my Dad gave me a violin because he knows what it's like to have your voice dry up when someone looks you in the eyes. I compose symphonies and play the violin; it is my connection and my escape, the the people closest to me usually know which one I'm looking for. Anita always does.
Aside from my sister, my Dad has always understood me best. He is the smartest man alive, and he is very similar to me, seeing the world differently, seeming to come from somewhere else and stranded from returning He will die when he is in his early forties. Maybe that's a longer life than he was meant to have, but it will still be a short life by human standards, and to add insult to inevitability, it will be his own remarkable brain that kills him. Not suicide or madness, like will probably happen to me, but a tumor that wants him dead as fast as possible. I will think that he could have lived longer if he'd just taken better care of himself, and this will upset me and cause me to push him away, but my mother has always taken exceptionally good care of both of us. I will not see I'm wrong to be angry with him until very late in my own life, if I do at all. Maybe I never will.
My mother is the embodiment of Sloth. She used to be a demon; she became a human when she fell in love with my father. They did sex in a different world, and even though it shouldn't have been possible, my mother got pregnant. I think it was supposed to be one, but the witch who plays with Mom and her sisters made us two. Mother made her way to the human world, a world in which my parents never did sex, and that's where we who should never have existed drew our first breaths.
Anita's stronger than me; she always has been, mentally and physically. Sometimes I wonder if she resents the fact that she and our mother have to protect me from so many things.
I also wonder what we would have been like if we'd stayed one. Would I be normal? Would she be beautiful? Would we still have genius, and acting, and girlfriends, and would we love ourself, instead of always wishing we knew what it is like on the other side?
We are unfortunate. Our stories won't have a happy ending. There will be very bad times, but I think there will be good times, too. And maybe that's what matters more. Forget the
