Authors Anxiety but the Preacher’s brew

I’m in a bit of an anxious mess here lately.  I’ve realized that I delay a lot of stuff.  Why?

I don’t know maybe it’s an unconscious why of failing at stuff.  Anyways, as much as I want to belly ache about stuff on my blog I really want to avoid it.  It should be something fun to read.

I’m working on a second piece to the Zeus’ preacher.  I really had nothing else planned for it but it’s a really cool idea, my opinion of course.

—–

John Paul sat within the small room that served as his office and rested his face upon his hands.  Sandy, his 16 year old daughter walked past the door and stopped.

“Dad, what’s going on?  Your acting like a odd-ball.”

John Paul laughed silently and raised his head.  “You, so young and innocent of the world.  How can you possible understand the weight of something you haven’t dealt with.”

Sandy’s face fell slightly, “how can you be so arrogant to believe I have no weight upon my young shoulders.”

John Paul froze.  He had not expected an intelligent response but he virtually slapped himself because he should of.  Sandy had always been sharp and intuitive which was possibly why their relationship was tense at times.  John Paul struggled to understand the politics between young and old.  He had fallen into a familiar pattern.

“Anyways,” said Sandy with a smile.  “The firemen left.  The fire burned barely an acre of the corn.  “That’s good… I guess,” John Paul said swallowing some guilt.  “I will have to apologize to Mr. Erickson when he returns from his mother’s house.

Sandy stood silent.  John Paul look away thinking then realizing she was waiting asks.  “Did you want to ask my something?”

Sandy hemmed for several seconds, “Umm… why does no one know about your brother?”

John Paul stood, “I lost my brother years ago.  I thought he had passed in a fire.”

Sandy studied her father, “Why are you lying?”  John Paul tried not to react.  The question caught him off guard.  “My brother had passed in a fire when we were boys.  I don’t care to recall the details.”  Sandy squawked and turned abruptly.  “A-hole.”

“What!”  John Paul replied and began to follow her but stopped.  He was a bit abrupt, he thought but she did not need to resort to name calling.  “His brother,” he thought, “had started something that was long brewing.”

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