Disclaimer: I don't own the House of Anubis.

A/N: Happy House of Anubis oneshot day! :) To be honest I didn't think I'd get the time to write this, but I had an hour to spare before my sisters birthday party, and for once, I don't have that much homework. If you read any of my other fics, I'll try my hardest to write something for them in this hour, but if I don't, I'm sorry.

Okay, this one is going to be another one that is based on a poem, because I've actually really gotten into poetry in the last year... though it is hard to find ones that I actually like.

Nettles by Vernon Scannell
My son aged three fell into the nettle bed
"Bed" seemed a curious name for those green spears,
That regiment of spite behind the shed
It was no place for rest. With sobs and tears
The boy came seeking comfort and I saw
White blisters beaded on his tender skin
We soothed him till his pain was not so raw
At last he offered us a watery grin,
And then I took my hook and honed the blade
And went outside and slashed in fury with it
Till not a nettle in that fierce parade
Stood upright anymore. Next task, I lit
A funeral pyre to burn the fallen dead.
But in two weeks the busy sun and rain
Had called up tall recruits behind the shed
My son would often feel sharp wounds again.

Eric Sweet was sitting at the kitchen table, drinking tea and staring at his wife, who was baking a cake for the charity event tonight, and wondering what his son was up too. Edison, or Eddie has he preferred to be called, was playing outside, and occasionally Eric would hear noises from his son. The gun noises that Eddie would make from his mouth while pretending to shoot the bad guys with his water-gun. Sometimes Eric wondered if Eddie was ever lonely with no brothers or sisters, but Eddie had never expressed any thoughts of having a larger family, and neither had his wife. To think about it, he felt the same. One Eddie was a handful as it was.

Suddenly the back door burst open and a sniffling, red-eyed, five year old Eddie came through the door. I saw the white blisters that dotted his arms and legs, and immediately knew that he had fallen prey to nettles. Obviously he had been playing behind my shed, even though I had told him not to... But now wasn't the time to be shouting at Eddie, he was injured and needed comfort.

I held out my arms and let him climb up onto my lap. He winced as his wounds brushed off the material of my trousers, and his mother started rooting through the press for medicinal cream to soothe the blisters.

"Hush Eddie," I soothed. "If you be a good boy, maybe your mother will let you lick the bowl after she finishes the cake.

He blinked at me, his eyes innocent and replied: "Mommy always lets me lick out the bowl. Don't be silly Daddy." I rolled my eyes... Eddie had such typical five year old behaviour.

As his mother tended to his wounds, I decided to go outside. I immediately when to my shed and grabbed the sharpest blade I had. I walked around behind it, and cut the nettles in anger - not even focusing on what I was doing really. How dare they hurt my son!

When I was finished, my face flushed from exhaustion and anger, I took a box of matches out of my pocket. I lit one and let it drop into the pile of what used to be nettles. I watched as the flames grew higher and higher, burning the remains of the cruel plants. I smiled.

Two weeks later, they had grown back and Eddie got stung again.