Southern Discomfort

It's hard to rely on your good intentions

I want to move, but I can’t. I’m watching Matt the bear fling a redcap away from him, blood spraying everywhere. I want to run but I can’t. I can’t look away. I want to run…


I want to run but I can’t. The smell of blood…


Rae shook her head, a small vial in one hand, key in the other. She blinked a few times, her apprentices face a few inches from hers.

“Simon…what time is it?”

“5am. On Tuesday.”

“Wait its Tuesday?” She dragged herself to her feet and immediately regretted it, as dizziness overtook her.

“Yup” He grabbed her arm to keep her from falling over. “When was the last time you slept?”

“Saturday. Maybe”.

“Boss, I’m saying this as your friend, you can’t keep doing this to yourself”.

She gently placed the vial into the grey messenger bag sitting next to her. It was nearly halfway full of identical each of them labeled. Fear, despair, flight, confusion. She frowned down at the one in her hand, not sure what to write on it.

“Simon, I need to do this. I’m the one who started all this, I need to help. The most important thing about having powers is to be prepared”.

“I get it, I get it” he held his hands out in front of him in a placating gesture. “It’s just, I’m worried about you. You’ve changed since I met you. I mean a lot” He started lining up muffins in the display case. “And I’m not sure it’s a good thing”.

“Yeah well, I don’t think I’ve done one good thing recently” She sighed as she slung the bag over her shoulder. “I guess we should get ready to open”

She pulled her mp3 player out of her pocket and jammed the headphones in her ears. The display read TOAD THE WET SPROKETT-GOOD INTENTIONS. It had been on repeat for the last few days, and it suited her mood just fine.

It seemed like the customers would be drinking regular coffee today.



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