Games by Sievert Dinar
Disclaimer - I don't pretend to own Bishoujo Senshi Sailormoon, or
any of the characters pertaining to it. I'm just a fanfic writer
without a hope in this dark, cruel world.
I've spent quite a while trying to get this one right. I really
don't know if I have succeeded with this version, but I guess it's
up to you to decide that, now.
Who was going to play with her, now?
Mama was dead.
Who was going to play with her, now?
She died in her bed.
She was bored! Nothing to do....
The poor woman, driven to despair by her hyperactive child.
But the girl didn't seem to care.
About her mother's passing.
She stood by the grave, and stamped her feet.
And pulled her hair, and held her breath.
And screamed, and bawled, and ran around and around.
The poor woman used to chase her around the house.
Even when her health was not good.
Something had to give, to break, to snap in two.
But the little girl didn't care.
She wanted to play games. Play games with her Mama.
But Mama wouldn't play games with her, anymore.
It made her angry. It made her furious. She LIKED games.
Games were fun. Games were her LIFE.
It made everything right, because they made her happy.
And it made her Mama happy to see her happy.
Not even six years old, the light-blue haired child.
She had seen her father die, so young.
He used to throw her into the air.
Run her around the yard in her stroller.
She would laugh, and giggle, and cry in fear.
It was so much fun. And then he was gone.
And there was only Mama. Mama was not good at games.
She didn't seem to like her child's taste in games.
Not many people did, and she couldn't understand why.
Putting spiders into people's beds....
Tying cats to the garden fence....
Placing gunpowder in the preschool lunches....
What was wrong with all that? It was funny. It was fun.
Mama never understood. So Mama made herself sick.
And Mama died. It made her most upset.
The girl stared at her Mama's grave, and swallowed.
She clenched her fists and closed her eyes.
Maybe if she died, too, she would follow Mama and Papa...
Follow them to Heaven, and play games with them, there.
Forever and ever and ever.
"Pallapalla...." Said the soft voice.
She opened her eyes and turned to the kindly woman....
The woman who cared for her now.
"It is time to go, Pallapalla.... Time to go home."
She considered the woman, her eyes, her face. Reading her.
"Pallapalla says...." She began.
"Yes, child?"
"Pallapalla says I spy...."
Sievert Anathea Dienar sievertd@start.com.au
Disclaimer - I don't pretend to own Bishoujo Senshi Sailormoon, or
any of the characters pertaining to it. I'm just a fanfic writer
without a hope in this dark, cruel world.
I've spent quite a while trying to get this one right. I really
don't know if I have succeeded with this version, but I guess it's
up to you to decide that, now.
Who was going to play with her, now?
Mama was dead.
Who was going to play with her, now?
She died in her bed.
She was bored! Nothing to do....
The poor woman, driven to despair by her hyperactive child.
But the girl didn't seem to care.
About her mother's passing.
She stood by the grave, and stamped her feet.
And pulled her hair, and held her breath.
And screamed, and bawled, and ran around and around.
The poor woman used to chase her around the house.
Even when her health was not good.
Something had to give, to break, to snap in two.
But the little girl didn't care.
She wanted to play games. Play games with her Mama.
But Mama wouldn't play games with her, anymore.
It made her angry. It made her furious. She LIKED games.
Games were fun. Games were her LIFE.
It made everything right, because they made her happy.
And it made her Mama happy to see her happy.
Not even six years old, the light-blue haired child.
She had seen her father die, so young.
He used to throw her into the air.
Run her around the yard in her stroller.
She would laugh, and giggle, and cry in fear.
It was so much fun. And then he was gone.
And there was only Mama. Mama was not good at games.
She didn't seem to like her child's taste in games.
Not many people did, and she couldn't understand why.
Putting spiders into people's beds....
Tying cats to the garden fence....
Placing gunpowder in the preschool lunches....
What was wrong with all that? It was funny. It was fun.
Mama never understood. So Mama made herself sick.
And Mama died. It made her most upset.
The girl stared at her Mama's grave, and swallowed.
She clenched her fists and closed her eyes.
Maybe if she died, too, she would follow Mama and Papa...
Follow them to Heaven, and play games with them, there.
Forever and ever and ever.
"Pallapalla...." Said the soft voice.
She opened her eyes and turned to the kindly woman....
The woman who cared for her now.
"It is time to go, Pallapalla.... Time to go home."
She considered the woman, her eyes, her face. Reading her.
"Pallapalla says...." She began.
"Yes, child?"
"Pallapalla says I spy...."
Sievert Anathea Dienar sievertd@start.com.au