❝ Sheep abide by the herd complex; safety in numbers. When all are the same, no one can be singled out.
A fox among sheep is able to infiltrate the herd only a handful of ways: under the veil of dusk, or by clothing itself as the prey, shedding i...
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THE CRACKS SEWN into his ceiling reminded Jonah of the very pillars Bêtemont was established upon. Fine from a distance, but once up close, the stone, which time had chipped away at, would crumble with the faintest of feathered kisses. The leaks dribbling down the powdered walls, a mixture of dust and decomposed paint, thickened like mildew once they became entrapped beneath the freshly plastered wallpaper and fitted skirting boards. The pouring water splatted onto the exposed pane of his window, after breaking free from the stream funnelling its way down the rocking drainpipe, just like his attempts at redecorating. The unopened tubs of paint and plaster sat atop the stepladder, as if its throne, glaring back at Jonah his contorted image, highlighting an ivory dab below the arch of his brow.
With no prior reservations made, he opted to spend the afternoon by beginning the refurbishment of his room. In his mind, Jonah agreed to start with re-plastering a few areas where the wall had corroded, only for the heavens to sear a hole in the sky once his three hours of dedication came to an end. His mood as soddened as his room, Jonah relented at the stare of his maths homework burning holes into the back of his head. He was sure his mother would give him an earful about the bucketloads of paint and plaster which had gone to waste. And that's without her knowing the price it had all stacked up to— high enough to max out his debit card.
An involuntary jolt of dread nipped at his thoughts. That wasn't going to be fun to explain.
Having tidied up the best he could and accepted that he was a dead man walking, Jonah plonked his brush into the tray of watered-down mixture, embracing his doom. He'd try again next time, once his mother had gotten around to finding someone who can sort out the roof.
His soul ascended from his body when he turned around to find Jade, who had sneaked up behind him. She was armed with a conniving smirk, only to double over in wicked laughter when her brother practically flew to the other end of the room.
With his breathing shallowed, he felt the tingles of adrenaline pinch his fingers. "You're supposed to knock," Jonah barked, angling his body so his shoulder impacted with Jade's when he pushed past, reclining into his desk chair. "Actually, get out."
She held up her hands in a teasing surrender. "Mum sent me; dinner's ready," she contended. Her judgmental eyes scrutinised his paint-splotched room, giving it the once over. "What on God's green earth...?"
Jonah grasped the first thing he saw, a screwed-up shirt, and lobbed it at her. Jade ducked, cowering as if his clothing was a harbinger of a highly infectious disease. To his dismay, she was successful in dodging the projectile, eliciting Jonah to rephrase his previous demand. "I don't remember giving you an invitation."
"Keep your manky invites. It smells in here." Having delivered one final jab alongside her message, Jade withdrew from his quarters, but not before creasing her nose with disgust on her way out.
Jonah heeded to the request for his presence, parting from his chair to follow his sister into the hallway. He was ready to boil over in frustration when she slammed his door shut, missing his face by millimetres.
