An Attic For Your Angst

“That blathering, idiotic-!”

Daniel stormed up into the storage attic, barely able to contain the rage that had him pacing almost blindly amongst the boxes and shelves full of dusty bottles. He bit his knuckle to keep from screaming aloud the frustrations that had finally peaked only moments before. The laughter had followed him up the dark stairwell and any outburst that occurred here would surely be heard below. He didn’t need any further punishment for things that weren’t his fault. Somehow Jamess always caught his minor rule breaks, hauling Daniel out for ridicule and punishment, treating him like a child.

All because I’m a Fable.

Impotent tears of anger stung Daniel’s eyes, and a warm, red trickle dripped down his hand. In contrast, a soothing coolness formed in a patch on his lower back and slowly spread, sliding between his shoulder blades to rest languidly around his neck. Daniel’s concerns were momentarily forgotten as he recognized the tingling presence.

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