I threw at him the nastiest looking thing I dared pierce with my spent lolly stick. That would teach him, I thought.
I was six. I didn’t think he would catch it and stuff it in my mouth.
That was the start of our ongoing battle.
Each day I would find some way to gain revenge for the day before. And each day he would turn it round on me.
I became a tough little girl, often in trouble.
It petered eventually, the year we occupied different playgrounds. And
Looking back, I remember my first attack but cannot remember why.
I was six. I didn’t think he would catch it and stuff it in my mouth.
That was the start of our ongoing battle.
Each day I would find some way to gain revenge for the day before. And each day he would turn it round on me.
I became a tough little girl, often in trouble.
It petered eventually, the year we occupied different playgrounds. And
Looking back, I remember my first attack but cannot remember why.
Written for Friday Fictioneers from the following picture prompt:
Copyright-Kent Bonham
Who made who into a bully I wonder...
ReplyDeleteThanks, I hadn't thought about it like that - makes what happened before more intriguing.
DeleteThis reminded me of my brother and me. That never ending circle of revenge upon revenge. Nice work.
ReplyDeletesweet!
ReplyDeleteAh, remembered battles, forgotten reasons.... Alicia
ReplyDeleteThe chicken and the egg of revenge. Well said.
ReplyDeleteNice reminiscence of childhood, right off the memory of our bizarre prompt. Well done.
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