𝐑𝐄𝐌𝐈𝐍𝐈𝐒𝐂𝐄𝐍𝐂𝐄 ━ edmund pevensie¹

Four

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𝕷𝖊𝖙𝖙𝖊𝖗𝖘 𝖆𝖗𝖊 𝖏𝖚𝖘𝖙 𝖕𝖎𝖊𝖈𝖊𝖘 𝖔𝖋
𝖕𝖆𝖕𝖊𝖗; 𝖇𝖚𝖗𝖓 𝖙𝖍𝖊𝖒, 𝖆𝖓𝖉
𝖜𝖍𝖆𝖙 𝖘𝖙𝖆𝖞𝖘 𝖎𝖓 𝖞𝖔𝖚𝖗 𝖍𝖊𝖆𝖗𝖙
𝖜𝖎𝖑𝖑 𝖘𝖙𝖆𝖞. 𝕶𝖊𝖊𝖕 𝖙𝖍𝖊𝖒, 𝖆𝖓𝖉
𝖜𝖍𝖆𝖙 𝖛𝖆𝖓𝖎𝖘𝖍𝖊𝖘 𝖜𝖎𝖑𝖑 𝖛𝖆𝖓𝖎𝖘𝖍.

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━━━━━━━１９４０ 

        NEL,  

       Things have gone from awful to ghastly. I was right about everything of course— sharing a room with that inconceivable prick is worse than I thought. I don't have a moment of privacy and he's always sticking his nose into my business. I can hardly stand to be in the house all day, what with its barren walls and mediocre furnishings. It's like they think having a place to sit is a crime!

       I've been forced to become a vegetarian because my aunt and uncle refuse to enjoy life. They've also never heard of having a good time and there's not a drop of alcohol in this entire place (trust me, I've checked.) There's also no way to regulate the air temperature unless you want to be stifling hot since they always leave the windows open (something about "fresh air" being good for "intellect" — though I haven't seen them benefit from this.)

       You'd positively hate it here, Nel. All the books on Eustace's shelf are informational. I'm not surprised he hasn't got an imagination, though he certainly is inventive when it comes to finding ways to torture Lu and me. He's a record stinker—

"Are you writing to that imaginary girlfriend of yours again?" Eustace's loud, obnoxious voice interrupted his thoughts.

Edmund made a futile attempt to shut him down before things got out of hand, "shove off, Eustace."

"I honestly don't know how interesting your life can be to write so much," he continued, ignoring the warning, "but I've been working on a poem, do you want to hear it?" he didn't wait for a response, "there was once a boy named Edmund who wrote a note everyday until he became the resident joke." 

He glowered at the younger boy, "that doesn't even rhyme."

"It's called assonance," Eustace replied, his tone full of self-importance.

Mistakenly, he asked, "what's assonance?"

"The repetition of the sound of a vowel or diphthong in nonrhyming stressed syllables near enough to each other for the echo to be discernible," his cousin answered, sounding very much like he'd swallowed a dictionary, "not many people know what that word means so I'm not surprised that someone as dull as you hasn't heard of it. In fact, I'd be surprised if your stupid—"

Edmund knew that Eustace was egging him on (it was what he did, after all— he knew he wouldn't be punished and he, Edmund, would be), but he couldn't help it. He launched himself out of his chair, ignoring the clatter it made as it fell to the floor. He glared furiously at the boy, "shut up, shut up, shut up."

Eustace, being smaller than him, was able to get out of the way quickly and resumed taunting him as he made for the door, "I bet she's so dimwitted that she can't even read your stupid letters if she did actually exist. I bet—"

They had made it to the hallway now as Edmund continued to pursue him. The younger boy hit the back wall and his eyes widened slightly in the face of his cousin's fury. Edmund was a good deal taller than Eustace and seemed to swallow up the entire space of the corridor, "you know, Aunt Alberta isn't home right now," he began slowly, "and I haven't seen Uncle Harold move from that chair—"