Disclaimer: If you recognise something it's not mine, it's L.J.'s :'(
Another cold breeze drifted in through the open balcony door. The warm summer sun was concealed by powdery grey clouds that held the promise of rain. I shivered and waited for my turn in our latest board game discovery; Dungeons and Dragons.
"I'm cold," I announced. And totally confused by this game, I added to myself.
My dad paused halfway through his boring explanation of what the meaning of 'fatally injured' was to Phil and glanced out the window, noticing the approaching sheet of grey that stretched as far as the eye could see.
"If you're cold, you can close the door," he said.
I felt excitement bubble inside me; I'd never been given the opportunity to close the balcony door by myself before. I jumped up to grab the keys from the corridor, leaving my dad and Phil alone to discuss the meaning of 'fatally injured'. I tiptoed precariously on one foot like a ballerina, trying to look elegant as I reached for the keys on their hook next to the front door. Then, still on one foot, I spun around in the most ballet-like fashion I could accomplish and skipped back into the living room.
The scene before me was one so horrifying that I nearly dropped the keys. My dad was still explaining to Phil the meaning of 'fatal' having finally managed to make him understand that injured was another word for wounded, but Phil was no longer at the table. No, he was at the balcony door, at the prime spot to close and lock the door.
I rushed over to him indignantly.
"What are you doing here?" I asked, an accusing note in my voice and a frown scrunching my features.
"I'm gonna help you to close the door," he said, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world.
"No. You're not." I told him, seething.
"Why?" he asked, cocking his head to the side in an annoying dog like fashion.
I turned to dad for support but he was oblivious to us, lost in the instruction booklet of Dungeons and Dragons. "Because," I said, "you did it last time, and the time before that, and the time before that."
"No I didn't."
"Yes you did. I saw you." I was getting cross now.
"What if we do it together?" he asked, his head cocked to the other side now.
I looked at him and knew that any further arguments would be hopeless. I gave him my best evil stare and agreed begrudgingly. He smiled to himself, satisfied with his manipulative powers, and reached for the door, his short stubby fingers closing around the white handle.
"Wait!" I commanded, leaning forward so I could pull the door closed too, but Phil wasn't listening.
He closed the door with a sharp and unnecessarily forceful pull. My index finger throbbed and I gasped, looking down to see my finger caught between the door frame and the door. I grabbed the handle and pushed the door open, my heart beating erratically as I pulled my finger from its strong embrace. I pushed it as close as I could to my face without my vision blurring, checking for damage. Already, I couldn't straighten it; an angry red lump was forming at my knuckle with a white line running down the centre, where it had been pushed against the door frame. Tears prickled the back of my eyes as the pain caught up with me. I opened my mouth and screamed.
A/N: Ok so what did you guys think at my attempts at humour? Good? Bad? Worthy of burning? PLEASE tell me what you think! Do you guys think I should continue? I know I said this was a one shot but I'll continue if you want me to. If you guys have any ideas lemme know. XD plz review!