The fire crackled warmly in the hearth. Snow drifted to the ground in a sugary powder, causing children of the neighborhood to squeal with laughter as they attempted to catch the cold granules on their tongues. Inside the house where the fire lived, a cloaked figure slouched in an overstuffed chair surrounded by lap pillows stitched with pictures of happy cottages and snowmen. He brooded there, sullenly, staring out the window at the laughing children and thinking dark, menacing thoughts to himself. Some day. The laughter of children will be cut off, and all the world will know the terror of the Mighty M…
“Mikey! Cookies!” A small women bustles into the living room, a plate piled high with ginger snaps clasped in her hands. The figure jolted out of his daydream of world domination and clapped his hands in irritation.
“Mother! How many times must I tell you not to interrupt me while I…”
“Tut, tut, tut, darling.” A flick of her wrist set the plate next to him, cutting off the rest of his scolding remark. “Before you know it Richard will be here! And then the celebration can truly begin!”
Michael Matthias, or Mikey as his mother disgustingly insisted upon calling her youngest son, slumped lower in the chair, a groan hissing out of clenched teeth as his hands began to instinctively rub the familiar ache from his temples. Of course HE would be arriving soon. Matthias spent everyday of the year working on destroying that perfect , good-for-nothing twit, and now…Why must I be cursed with this burden? Another groan escaped the villain, his eyes rolling sarcastically as he spoke. “Do we have to invite him every year? I’m sure he has much more, heroically sick, things to be doing other than coming here for Thanksgiving dinner.”
Before his mother had any chance to rebuke his behavior the front door burst open, snow exploding inside with a dramatic flare. In strolled Richard, the eldest boy of the family, golden-haired, with a killer smile, and the cheekbones of Adonis.
“Oh, good grief, help us now…”
“Richard, my dear! It’s so wonderfully good to see you!” The cheerful voice of Mother drowned out Matthias’ comment as she rushed to throw her arms around the large man.
“Mother, Happy Thanksgiving! Where’s father? I sure do have some fascinating stories to tell you both!” Richard laughed heartily as he hugged his mother’s small frame then set her aside to come farther into the house. As he turned to shut the door, Father came into the room, a large smile budding on his rosy red cheeks as he adjusted the frilly apron tied around his waist.
“There he is. How are you, son?” Reaching out to shake Richard’s hand, the older man sheepishly untied the apron and handed it to Mother. “Ignore that little accessory, I was just finishing up the turkey and stuffing!” He laughed jovially then looked over to Matthias, motioning with his hand in a windmill fashion. “Don’t just sit there, Michael, come make your peace with Richard.”
Slowly, one hand lifted from his aching temple and reached for a cookie, while the other pushed himself up from amongst the pillows. Dark eyes remained locked on the heroic figure as Matthias crossed the living room floor to stand before Richard. Nothing was said as the two brothers stood across from one another; one cloaked in black, the other in gold.
Mother and Father stood side by side, hands clasped together as they anxiously watched the exchange between their children. Richard crossed his arms and, being a whole head taller than Matthias, looked down at him expectantly.
“What have you to say this year, little brother?”
Matthias’ filled his mouth with warm ginger snap, his eyes filled with a challenge as he looked up at his arch-enemy. The time had come, the words must be said. With a gulp the cookie was swallowed and a smirk touched the villains lips as he drew in a deep breath…
“I will be winning the wishbone break this year. I hope you’re prepared for utter defeat.”
With a booming laugh Richard clapped Matthias on the back, nearly knocking him off his feet. “I’d like to see you try!” he yelled, pulling the whole family towards the kitchen, “Now come, let us eat!”
By- Lyndsie Brown