So, you ask, what plausible explanation do I have for so thoughtlessly deprieving you of ANOTHER five days of Twisted Tales? Well buster, I ain't gonna spew lengthy stories, just two words for ya - Internet down!
Strangely though, despite it being the final week of my term I still managed to get along fine without being online. In fact, it was kind of a blessing in disguise; my 36-hour Internet-less ordeal turned out to be one of my most productive periods ever! With no MSN, Yahoo Graffiti, Dota invitations, and other evils of the Net to bother me, I can finally have a weekend to look back at without the slightest tinge of regret. Apart from not being able to blog, of course. But wait...that's an evil too. Oh well, you win some, you lose some.
On an unrelated note, my tagboard has gone over 15 days without a single new tag. And if you bother to go through the tagboard archives, it is now officially the LONGEST dry spell ever! Woohoo~! At Twisted Tales, we're all about constantly setting new standards.
But does it bother me? Nahhhh. I sort of deserve it with the recent lack of updating. And I know, oh yes I know, that somewhere out there exists at least 1 (ONE) doting reader following my blog devoutly everyday, checking every two hours for new updates. Yups, Mr. Doting Reader is out there, and he's merely not posting. It is for your sake, and yours alone, Mr. Doting Reader, that I continue faithfully posting stories online. For the rest of you, here you go:
"What's wrong? You seem very quiet today." Jean asked with concern.
May didn't know what to say. She'd followed Jean to the secret garden as usual after school for their umpteenth picnic, but Saras' words kept playing themselves back over and over. Should she bring it up to Jean? Jean would surely be furious if she knew that May had been talking to her.
They spread out the cloth and sat at another new part of the place. Here the grass grew in little tufts that kissed your feet if you took off your shoes, dotting the stone path all the way to a stream which at times didn't seem to be there.
"So what do you think of this place? I'm still trying to come up with a name for it." Jean beamed proudly like an artist surveying her finished masterpiece.
"Beautiful. As always."
They sat in still silence enjoying the specialty of the day: undercooked hashbrowns with tartar sauce. Jean was probably enjoying the serenity of their surroundings, but May knew she wasn't.
"May, I know something's bothering you. Spill."
"Huh, me? What makes you say so?"
"Duh."
Well, she asked for it, so it wasn't her fault.
"Errr...Jean?" she started very slowly. "Have you been dabbling with black magic?"
"Oh why, that reminds me!" she excitedly fished in her bag. "I promised to tell you how we can counter Saras' magic."
"No," May grasped her arm firmly. "I refuse to get involved in any black magic. And you shouldn't too."
Jean's eyes grew narrow. "It's our only chance, silly."
"Not true. I've went to Saras, and she says that they're not-"
Uh-oh. Maybe she shouldn't have said that. Jean's mouth dropped wide open in horror-cum-disbelief.
"WHAT? Didn't I tell you not to talk to her?"
"Wait, liste-"
"You lied to me!" Was that a teardrop in the corner of her eye? "YOU SAID YOU WOULDN'T TALK TO HER!"
Jean got up and darted across the stream, running wildly till she became a dot at the far end of the fields. May, petrified, didn't know if she should go after her. She'd never seen her like that before. She felt a little guilty inside for breaking her promise to Jean, but something was obviously very wrong. If she didn't get to the bottom of it, someone be badly hurt soon.
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