Rowdie
By Red Turtle
Hi! Seriously, all of you, these are the best reviews I have ever gotten on a story. I appreciate knowing how you all are looking at this and what you're getting out of the relationships. I'm trying very hard to illustrate this, and I see I am succeeding.
Oh, in case any one finds out, I learned that Red Pandas aren't really like bears, their more like raccoons, but I'm going to leave Chickens story the way it is. And I'll try to work in Ken as his nickname; I can't believe I never thought of that.
Anyway, this is Rowdies' POV:
R-O-W-D-I-E! That's the way we spell Rowdie!
My cousins Chicken and Pie made up that chant to teach me to spell my name when I was little and every once in a while it pops into my head. Especially when I'm bored, like being kept in the kitchen for lack of a better punishment for the fight my cousins and I got into. I wish my Dad was here for me to talk to, or Uncle Leo. More than that, I wish Uncle Don was here.
To this day, I don't understand why fate denied me the opportunity to save my Uncle. Uncle Don's death was deeper than the loss of a father figure; it was a slap in the face of my convictions. As long as I can remember, I've believed I was destined for something great. I pay attention to everything going on around me, so I will know when that purpose arrives. Yet I missed his assassination, I wasn't even conscious it had happened until my whole family were called out of class, and informed by the principle of our school. I refused to believe it until the actual funeral. If I wasn't born to stop his murder, then why am I here?
Why wasn't I given a premonition, one of those vague notions something will go wrong, that I could have quietly shared with him, and convinced him not to go? Why didn't I have terrifying visions that woke me screaming the night before; visions that I couldn't recall but would effectively convey that something was terribly wrong? Why did I go to school and sit in class that day, blissfully unaware of the atrocity? I didn't as much as shiver at the time he was killed.
I should have been there at the ceremony. That was my calling, I am sure. But I was born too late; I was too young to attend. Had I been older, at least twelve, I might have had the opportunity, and I would have been ever vigilant, so that when those shots rang out, I would have seen immediately where the shooter was, and cornered him myself, avenging his death. Sometimes I go with scenario two, which is that I would have sat at the front row, and been so quick in reflex and so willing to fulfill my destiny that I would have jumped in front of my uncle as the shots came, sacrificing myself so that he could live. I don't mind this scenario, even at such a young age I am willing to die for others. It's only that it would make the rest of my family sad that I would regret it.
To add insult to injury, I am too young to partake in the quest to avenge him. My older brother and sister are old enough, but they won't do it. They don't have the discipline or the desire. They are sixteen, but I outmatch them in ninjitzu skill, and points of honor. By the time I reach sixteen, it's very likely my uncle's death will have been avenged and all I'll be able to do is spit on Saber Khan's grave.
Saber Khan. That's how observant I am, I overheard Uncle Leo, Ronique, and my father and mother talking about him. I'm sure the others don't know the identity of the assassin, except maybe Christopher because he's old enough and honorable enough to participate. I don't know why it's a secret, unless it's to keep us from worrying, or to keep him from knowing they know. Their conversation discussed how rich this guy was, and how elusive, and how brutal. They did not discuss why he saw fit to commit this act on our family.
I tried to find him on my own, I typed his name in our master computer to see what records there were of him, and I learned something very interesting, which is that he has no connection to our family, at least not publicly. There's no deep feud between us, no death threats. I thought maybe he hated us because we were mutants, but no, he is a mutant too. He is some kind of lion-like creature, definitely not human. I wonder what my parents know of him, and what clues tie him to the murder.
Oh that I was old enough to do all this. My life seems so empty. I imagine my future had I just the one chance to save my uncle, and it is great, it feels so right. I want that future more than anything. I still look for signs of my proper fate, even things like defending Chicken and Pie. I love my cousins, but I must be destined for something greater than keeping them from getting beat up in grade school. In ten years or so that shit won't even matter.
Well, I shall keep improving my ninjitzu, and something will come along eventually.
Hi! Seriously, all of you, these are the best reviews I have ever gotten on a story. I appreciate knowing how you all are looking at this and what you're getting out of the relationships. I'm trying very hard to illustrate this, and I see I am succeeding.
Oh, in case any one finds out, I learned that Red Pandas aren't really like bears, their more like raccoons, but I'm going to leave Chickens story the way it is. And I'll try to work in Ken as his nickname; I can't believe I never thought of that.
Anyway, this is Rowdies' POV:
R-O-W-D-I-E! That's the way we spell Rowdie!
My cousins Chicken and Pie made up that chant to teach me to spell my name when I was little and every once in a while it pops into my head. Especially when I'm bored, like being kept in the kitchen for lack of a better punishment for the fight my cousins and I got into. I wish my Dad was here for me to talk to, or Uncle Leo. More than that, I wish Uncle Don was here.
To this day, I don't understand why fate denied me the opportunity to save my Uncle. Uncle Don's death was deeper than the loss of a father figure; it was a slap in the face of my convictions. As long as I can remember, I've believed I was destined for something great. I pay attention to everything going on around me, so I will know when that purpose arrives. Yet I missed his assassination, I wasn't even conscious it had happened until my whole family were called out of class, and informed by the principle of our school. I refused to believe it until the actual funeral. If I wasn't born to stop his murder, then why am I here?
Why wasn't I given a premonition, one of those vague notions something will go wrong, that I could have quietly shared with him, and convinced him not to go? Why didn't I have terrifying visions that woke me screaming the night before; visions that I couldn't recall but would effectively convey that something was terribly wrong? Why did I go to school and sit in class that day, blissfully unaware of the atrocity? I didn't as much as shiver at the time he was killed.
I should have been there at the ceremony. That was my calling, I am sure. But I was born too late; I was too young to attend. Had I been older, at least twelve, I might have had the opportunity, and I would have been ever vigilant, so that when those shots rang out, I would have seen immediately where the shooter was, and cornered him myself, avenging his death. Sometimes I go with scenario two, which is that I would have sat at the front row, and been so quick in reflex and so willing to fulfill my destiny that I would have jumped in front of my uncle as the shots came, sacrificing myself so that he could live. I don't mind this scenario, even at such a young age I am willing to die for others. It's only that it would make the rest of my family sad that I would regret it.
To add insult to injury, I am too young to partake in the quest to avenge him. My older brother and sister are old enough, but they won't do it. They don't have the discipline or the desire. They are sixteen, but I outmatch them in ninjitzu skill, and points of honor. By the time I reach sixteen, it's very likely my uncle's death will have been avenged and all I'll be able to do is spit on Saber Khan's grave.
Saber Khan. That's how observant I am, I overheard Uncle Leo, Ronique, and my father and mother talking about him. I'm sure the others don't know the identity of the assassin, except maybe Christopher because he's old enough and honorable enough to participate. I don't know why it's a secret, unless it's to keep us from worrying, or to keep him from knowing they know. Their conversation discussed how rich this guy was, and how elusive, and how brutal. They did not discuss why he saw fit to commit this act on our family.
I tried to find him on my own, I typed his name in our master computer to see what records there were of him, and I learned something very interesting, which is that he has no connection to our family, at least not publicly. There's no deep feud between us, no death threats. I thought maybe he hated us because we were mutants, but no, he is a mutant too. He is some kind of lion-like creature, definitely not human. I wonder what my parents know of him, and what clues tie him to the murder.
Oh that I was old enough to do all this. My life seems so empty. I imagine my future had I just the one chance to save my uncle, and it is great, it feels so right. I want that future more than anything. I still look for signs of my proper fate, even things like defending Chicken and Pie. I love my cousins, but I must be destined for something greater than keeping them from getting beat up in grade school. In ten years or so that shit won't even matter.
Well, I shall keep improving my ninjitzu, and something will come along eventually.