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Homeschooling: a Wesley ficlet

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  • Homeschooling: a Wesley ficlet

    Wesley sat at the top of the stairs, hugging his pyjama-clad legs and peering through the bannisters. Voices had woken him. Mother, pleading. Father, shouting. Nothing unusual there. But there was an urgency in his mother's low voice, and his father's wrath seemed even fierier than usual. When he realised they were talking about him, he shivered. Please, let him forget by morning. Please let him forgive me.

    "I can't believe it! That little savage!"

    "Please, Roger. He's only eleven, just a boy."

    "That little worm almost cost a man his life!"

    "He didn't mean any harm. He was curious. It's natural for him to play with the things he finds in the house."

    "Playing with a Karakian Murder Stone? After I expressly forbid him not to touch ANYTHING in my study? The fool needs to learn to do as he's told."

    The door to the study opened and footsteps stomped out. Wesley hopped up in a second and rushed back along the passage, towards his bedroom. Mustn't be caught out of bed. That'll make things worse. Mustn't be?

    He tripped and fell, face first onto the carpet.

    "WESLEY!" his father's voice wasn't far behind him. The boom of an ogre. "What the devil do you think you're playing at?"

    Wesley scrambled up, to discover his father standing over him. His face was shadowed in the semi-darkness. It made Wesley think of the ornamental statues in the Council smoking room ? the furious statues that threatened death, or at least ingestion, to little boys.

    "I'm s..sorry, Father. I only wanted to see what the noise was?" he began. But he knew as he heard his own reedy, terrified voice and saw his father's pursed lips that he was only making things worse. Father hated a crybaby, and he hated boys who tried to make up excuses and weasel out of taking responsibility.

    "I'm going to teach you a lesson, boy." That was always a preface to pain. Wesley stood as still as he could, and held out his hand. But Father shook his head. "Not your hand. Bend over."

    But the lesson here was not obedience. It was hatred. His father hated him. That was the first lesson he'd learned, and the one he would remember the longest.

    -- Robofrakkinawesome BANNER BY FRANCY --