Tuesday, November 20, 2012

Snippet: Cain and

Snippets are pieces of writing, some of which have corresponding stories behind them but most of which are one-shots of a few paragraphs or less, which popped into my head basically exactly as they are displayed here. They cover or fill basically every writable surface of my life - Moleskins, napkins, the backs of receipts - and some of them which I find long enough, formed enough, or just interesting enough will make it here.

Cain and

Abel's eyes were red and his hair smelled sour and his manner was vacant. Cain felt the rage swell in his chest as it so often did when he saw his brother, the eternal fuck-up but still somehow their parents' golden boy. He bit his tongue to dull the anger.

He'd been biting his tongue every day, some days once or twice but usually almost constantly, for longer than his memory served him. At night when he couldn't sleep, he'd run the scales of scabs around the inside of his mouth and wait for the outburst he couldn't bite away.

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