Board Thread:Writer's Workshop/@comment-27027028-20160119193623

Let me start by saying that I love my sister. She and I have been through it all together. Our parents died when she was only 6 and I was 11. We lived on our own due to the fact we avoided orphanages and guardian programs. We got by, went to school, time went on. You may be wondering how I...how we made money. Well people often found themselves missing their wallets after bumping into me. I was a pickpocket. I never got caught either, which just goes to show just how careful you have to be.

Before my parents died they would always leave a note on me and my sister’s lunches that simply read,” have a nice day.” The occasional smiley face would be added as well. After they died I would write a note telling my sister to have a nice day. She knew it was me but I didn’t really care. She liked the notes. They made her feel just a little bit better about this world. To her i was the knight in shining armor, always there to save the day. And I’d be lying if I said i didn’t like that.

One morning just like any other, I was packing lunches. I grabbed the lunch-boxes off of the counter and flipped them over to find a note on mine reading,” have a nice day.” Figuring it was my sister that had wrote it, I smiled and packed the lunches. The next morning, I went to pack the lunches only to find they had already been packed. both with a note saying,”have a nice day.” I figured that my sister had done it and dismissed it as i usually did to be just her saying thanks.

That day at school, i was at the lunch table alone (as usual) and opened my bag to find a loaded, snub-nosed revolver. My eyes widened in surprise and terror as i slammed the cover down and hastily zipped it up. That night i yelled at my sister. “How and why the hell did I have a gun in my bag?” she just cried and shook her head. She didn’t know.

The next day I just gave her some money for lunch. I came home that afternoon exhausted. I called for my sister. No answer. I called again even louder. Nothing. Panicking, i ran into her room. i found one of the most horrible sights I will ever know. My sister was strung from the ceiling from a noose. Her entrails strewn about on the floor. Dark blood oozed from her body and lathered the walls. Unable to stop myself I collapsed to the floor crying. I retched pools of vomit all over the floor. A thick mixture of puke and tears formed in front of and all over me.

Through blurry vision, I looked up at her once again to see a note nailed to her head. It simply read,”Have a nice day.”  