“I told you to stop, why didn’t you listen? Your pranks is stupidly annoying” I questioned my brother. He twitched and insert his finger nail into his mouth “I don’t care about your opinion” he said while rolling his eyes. “You’re going to regret this one day, consequences will come upon you” I suggested my brother. He staggeringly walked away, it seems like what I said is in vain. I cursed him that he’ll encounter a folk who would teach him a lesson he hardly forget.

I spectate my brother prank others in school, they were not happy with what he did, yet they couldn’t do anything with it, my mother would go upon their house and blame them for bullying. Nevertheless, there were some people in the school that he didn’t find pleasant or safe with to prank, the robust, and notorious bullies. My brother like to pick on some nerds or anyone who can’t resist. I watched until he saw a transfer student, as usual, he walked up to him. He joked about his look and criticized his mother. The transfer student resist the urge to punch my brother in the face, he left without saying a word.

My brother wouldn’t let him go, he followed him around the school and harassed him. He continuously spread false rumors about him. Even after all that, the transfer student still didn’t fight back, he remained silent. My brother planned a ruse for him, he deceived him in to thinking that the teacher called him to the gym. After he opened the door, a bucket of paint fell on him. He was already at his limit, this last prank become the last strew to enrage him. He ran up to my brother and violently beat him to the ground, he cried for help, but nobody is willing to offer a hand. This end up with my brother send to the hospital and the transfer student into the jail.

I told my brother not everyone found his stupid pranks funny, He didn’t listen to me and that was his first mistake

We had always been close, bonded by a shared sense of humor and a mischievous nature. But as we grew older, I began to outgrow his childish antics while he continued to revel in them.

One day, he decided to take his pranks to a whole new level, and it ended up changing both of our lives forever.

It all started with a harmless prank on our neighbor, Mrs. Jenkins. She was a kind, elderly woman who lived alone, and my brother thought it would be funny to throw eggs at her house and run off, leaving her to clean up the mess. I warned him that it was a bad idea, but he didn't listen. He went ahead with it, and I watched from a distance as Mrs. Jenkins came out of her house, tears in her eyes, trying to figure out who would do such a thing to her.

I was furious with my brother, and I told him that he needed to apologize to Mrs. Jenkins and make things right. But instead of taking responsibility for his actions, he just laughed it off and said she was overreacting. The next day, Mrs. Jenkins put her house up for sale and moved away, unable to bear the thought of living in a neighborhood where she didn't feel safe.

I was enraged, but my brother seemed unfazed by the consequences of his actions. He continued to pull pranks on unsuspecting people, leaving behind a trail of hurt feelings and damaged relationships.

I tried to reason with him, to make him see that what he was doing was wrong, but it was like talking to a brick wall. He was consumed by the thrill of his pranks and didn't care who got hurt in the process.

Then one day, he targeted the wrong person. He decided to prank a group of tough-looking guys from our school, thinking it would be funny to steal their car keys and hide them.

But as he was trying to make his escape, they caught him in the act. They didn't find his prank funny at all, and they decided to teach him a lesson. They beat him up pretty badly, leaving him with a broken arm and a bruised ego.

It was a wake-up call for my brother. He realized that his pranks had gone too far and that he had hurt people who didn't deserve it. I took care of him while he recovered, and during that time, we had some long, hard conversations. I made him see the impact of his actions and urged him to make things right with the people he had hurt.

In the end, my brother made amends with Mrs. Jenkins and the guys from our school. He apologized for his behavior and promised to change his ways. It wasn't an easy road, but he stuck to his word and gradually earned back the trust and respect of those around him.

From that experience, my brother learned the valuable lesson that not everyone finds his pranks funny. He learned to think before acting and consider the feelings of others.

Our bond grew stronger through that challenging time, and I was proud to see him become a better, more compassionate person. And although we laugh about it now, it was a hard lesson learned.

“They here yet?” Questioned Nolan.

I narrowed my eyes. “Is who here?”

He shrugged his shoulders. “Corporate? Who else would I be talking about.”

"Oh yeah. Duh. Ummm. Art told me they've been here for about an hour, but they're in the office having a meeting with Dana." I paused, placing my completed item on the conveyer belt. "You know. Standard visitor B.S."

A sinister smirk crossed Nolan's face as I returned my attention to the work on my desk. I knew that smirk all too well, and I was on the verge of asking him about it when Erica cut us off.

"They're here." She exclaimed with a grin, pointing across the warehouse.

Nolan stood on his tippy toes and looked to where she was pointing. He took his glasses off and placed his free hand above his eyes, blocking out a nonexistent sun. "They're moving in herds." He quoted. "They do move in herds."

I chuckled and rolled my eyes as Erica went into hysterics. I directed my attention to the entourage of management as they made their way through the warehouse. Our General Manager Dana led the way with our new District Manager walking beside him. Three other corporate-level managers followed, two looking around inquisitively as the other took photos with his cell phone. The new D.M stood out like a sore thumb, wearing a vibrant pink dress, with a pink coat. She was short and portly, with gray, wavy hair that went down to her shoulders. She looked like...

"Holy shit! She looks like Dolores Umbridge!" Shrieked Erica. She leaned onto my desk and cupped her hands around her mouth to suppress her laughter.

"God. Damn." Started Nolan. "Let's all hope she boards the next train to Hogwarts on time."

That broke Erica, she let out a loud squeak of a laugh and continued to cover her mouth as her face turned red. Nolan had a habit of attracting the most immature girls at work, and despite being in her mid-twenties, Erica may have been the most immature girl in the building.

I watched as Dana walked the herd of managers through the warehouse, introducing employees and giving a brief overview of their ever-so-boring jobs. I could hear Nolan whispering something to Erica, which turned her laughter into suppressed giggles. I brought my attention to them.

"Alright, what the hell is going on?" I asked, my eyes going from Nolan to Erica.

Nolan's eyes narrowed and that sinister smirk came back. He raised his left hand, his fingers curled and disjointed inwards, the tips of his fingers lightly touching his inner palm. His double-jointed fingers formed a disfigured claw that caused Erica to squeal in delight.

"It's so gross!" She said through a snicker.

My shoulders slumped and I shook my head. "No way. There's no fucking way you're going to do that today."

Nolan nodded his head. "Oh, no today's the day. Dana asked me to give a demonstration."

I shook my head. "And what?? That's code to pull off your stupid prank?"

Nolan shrugged his shoulders. "Dude, I told Dana that I was going to do it one day, what better time than now?"

I scoffed and shook my head. "Bro, I don't think that's a good idea at all. I heard the new D.M's a stickler."

"Dude it's all in good fun...right Erica?" Nolan questioned as he swapped her across the shoulder with his right hand.

"Do it!! Do it!!" Chanted Erica in a sing-songy voice.

"She's not going to find it funny, and neither is Dana. She doesn't look like the joking type. Look how everyone's reacting when she walks by, I don't think I've ever seen people work this hard."

Nolan rolled his eyes which truly irritated me. "Come on Cole, don't be such a goon. This is going to be awesome."

I shook my head and returned my focus to my work. This was going to be a disaster, I could feel it in the pit of my stomach. I knew there was no way of reversing Nolan's decision, he was set on doing this despite what I or anyone else said.

"Your funeral," I muttered.

Nolan and Erica made their way to a pallet and began loading a rolling dolly with crates of Blu-rays and DVDs. Nolan continued to talk about his plan, and Erica continued to giggle uncontrollably. Seriously, the dude was a magnet for the most immature girls on the planet. They made their way through the warehouse towards their conveyer belt, Nolan peered over his shoulder and flashed me a wink which I chose to ignore.

Every job in this warehouse was repetitive and boring, but Nolan and Erica had the worst job by far. Erica would scan the Blu-Rays and DVDs, and toss them on a conveyer belt which would feed them into a bin based on the vendor. Nolan would collect them and box them. That's it. Eight straight hours of bullshit sorting, a job so simplistic a monkey could do it with its eyes closed. Why Dana had to explain the process to upper management was beyond me...but then again I wasn't a manager, and beyond that, I never hoped to be.

I watched as Nolan offloaded the crates next to Erica's check-in station and followed him as he kicked the rolling dolly back to where he normally stood, rolling it under the conveyer belt behind him. Our eyes met and he flashed me a smirk.

I rolled my eyes, shook my head, and mouthed the word "no", a pathetic final attempt at getting him to reverse his decision. He smiled, brushed my advice off with a shrug, and began sorting the product that Erica was sending down. Five minutes later, Dana came by and introduced both Erica and Nolan to his managerial posse. I couldn't hear what they were saying, I just saw smiles and handshakes. The guy with the camera began snapping pictures of the set-up that Nolan and Erica used.

I watched as Dana explained the process to his new boss, using as many hand gestures as possible to make it seem more interesting. I could see Erica peering over her desk, her face red, cheeks stained with tears as she did her best to conceal her laughter. I watched as Nolan reached into the bin with his left hand...

And then I heard his scream.

Nolan pulled his double-jointed claw of a hand from the bin, howling in pain, doing his best to sell the fact that he had a brand new deformity.

"MY HAND!!! OH MY GOD, MY FUCKING HAND!!!" Nolan screamed in horror. He keeled forward, clutching his left wrist, screaming at the top of his lungs.

Dana let out a scream and jumped backward as though he'd touched fire. The manager snapping pictures fumbled with his phone as if it were a bar of soap. The other two managers stood there with their mouths agape, eyes wide with horror.

Our new D.M let out a horrified scream that penetrated through the warehouse-like an ear-piercing ice pick. I watched in horror as her right hand shot up to her chest, her eyes shot open and bulged from their eye sockets. She stumbled forward on weak legs and into Nolan. Nolan let out a scream, his left hand returning to normal as he tried to sustain the woman's weight. Her right hand shot up to Nolan's face, brushing across his cheek and knocking his glasses to the floor. She collapsed to her knees, howling in pain before falling onto the pavement. I ran through the warehouse, pushing through a sea of concerned co-workers to get to Nolan's side. I stared in shock at the D.M as she squirmed the last bits of life away before falling still.

I couldn't speak, I couldn't think. The entire warehouse around me was reduced to a blur, I failed to hear the world around me. I drew my attention to Nolan, his skin as pale as a piece of paper, his glazed-over eyes staring lifelessly at the body of our former District Manager. His eyelids began to flutter as his eyes rolled into the back of his head, and then he collapsed to the floor.

Stupid. He’s absolutely stupid if he thinks no one will get hurt in this. Asher was about to make the prank that will lead to someone getting hurt, or worse. Why would he do this? For the popularity? No, I’m sure there’s something about him that’s wrong in the head because no one sane would do something like this. Asher was about to ‘pull the prank of a lifetime’ as he put it, well I think that he’s insane. Where did he even get the materials? No 15 yearold could possibly of bought fireworks without it being illegal. Our principal, Mr. Hebert, was going to get injured in this no matter what… unless someone else walks into his office. Asher must have thought of this at 3 in the morning, because if he thinks people will survive fireworks popping in a small, closed up room then he is mistaken. I suppose I should explain his plan, well he had the ‘oh so great idea’ of making one of those water bucket pranks when you open the door, but with fire works. A string will be connected to the door and a lighter, and when the door is opened the lighter will turn on and set the fireworks off. Wait, how would he get out of the room without setting the fire works off… do I smell smoke? Maybe I should check the smoke, he went in their about 10 minutes ago, which means he must’ve just finished setting it up. I hear the fireworks sizzling, wait that’s not another student or the principal… “ASHER NO”

I wrote this at like 1am if it dosent make sense my apologies and thx for reading!

I told my brother not everyone found his stupid pranks funny. He didn't listen...

He never listened.

I fiddled with the sleeve cuffs of my coat. The late afternoon sun hung low, cradled in the peach blushed sky. A dense shadow of thick pine trees obscured the remainder of our path, and the River Om beneath us thundered like the rhythmic thump of a thousand and one drums. We were only supposed to go as far as the outlining village wall, but Pas had said he wanted to visit the bridge, chisel his name into its stone and see if he could glimpse the great city beyond the trees.

He hadn't, and he couldn't, and now it was getting dark.

“Mama said we have to be home by sundown.”

“Ma said, blah, blah.” Pas’ feet momentarily left the ground as he inclined over the top of the bridge. When he turned back, a tinge of pink tickled his cheeks. “You’re just like her, so pigeon-livered.”

“Am not!” I was. A cold breeze pinched my skin, and I shivered. “And neither is Mama!”

Pascal had always been better than me in bravery smarts. Better DNA. Pas could transform into any sentient being as a Guise, a shapeshifter. Whether it be the baker's daughter or one of the mice scurrying under the floorboards, he could change, but only visually. Under the disguises, he still had my older brother's strength and childish mind.

And to add, even despite the constant, sometimes nerve-wracking pranks, everyone still liked him best.

“Are too.” Pascal screwed up his nose and squinted his eyes as though he was about to sneeze. On his face, his nose started to grow, fading in colour to a pale, storm-cloud grey. His nose—beak—hardened over the top of his mouth, and its tip ended in a pointed hook. “You're a boring pigeon,” he screeched, his beak snapping. “Coo, coo! Such a bore is little Emery, coo, coo. All she does is draw and whine, whine and draw—coo, coo.”

“I don't!”

His beak vanished, moulding once again into the brown, familiar features of his face. His arms crossed, and by the slight hitch in his left eyebrow, I knew his following words even before his tongue had time to form them. “Prove it.”

Those two words. Those two poison dripped words—what a frenzy they sparked inside my chest, what a blindness they caused. Looking back now, I realise I should have utilised that anger differently, more effectively. My hand should have clamped tight around his elbow and used that rage to drag him all the way home.

But I hadn't because I had been naive, and Pascal had said those two words.

Prove it? Fine.

“Fine,” I had said.

“Seriously?” Pas blinked, and a sharp-edged smile cut the corners of his mouth a second later. “Alright, but no takebacks. Whatever I say, you have to do.”

“Fine.”

“That’s everything, Emery.”

I crossed my arms, my hands hidden, jittering under my armpits. “Fine.”

“Fine.” Bending down, Pas scooped up a handful of sloppy mud. The globular, brown sludge oozed from between his fingers. It stunk of musty peat and mould, and before I had the chance to stop him, he smeared it down the front of my coat.

“Pascal!”

“Shush!” He poked his tongue out. “I’m getting you ready.”

“For what?”

But I had heard it, the steady drum of a stupid idea. The silhouette of a horse and carriage appeared from behind, galloping away from the wall of trees. The sky had turned a deep bruised plum, the last of the golden raise fading, and that carriage was chasing the last of the sun's gift—which was precisely what Pascal and I should have done.

Pas grinned, and a swirl of anxiety rippled in my stomach. He rolled up the sleeves of his coat. “That,” he said.

Screwing up his face again, I watched as the skin on his arms began to blacken and crack. Narrow, smouldering, orange veins bubbled between the crevices, and his body grew.

“No,” I gasped. “You can't. There's a horse!”

“One scare won't kill it, Em. And now,” Pas shoved my shoulder, and a sprinkle of charred ash flittered to the stone. “Stand in the centre and look unassuming and plain but exciting enough to make the carriage stop.”

“I don't think we should do this.”

“Pardon, did you say something?” Pas wafted his blackening hand towards his ears. “I wasn't listening.” He disappeared down the side of the bridge. “Stop that carriage,” he shouted.

I glared at where my brother had been standing, and a second later, a grey horse snorted to a halt. The white carriage door swung open. Black boots crunched the dirt, and a plump, smartly dressed man stepped out. A lantern dangled from the roof of the carriage, and I could make out a reddened shock of a tailcoat and the stiff curve of a powdered wig.

“Jenkins,” the man snapped, and I glimpsed another shadowed man perched on the top of the cart. “why have we stopped? Does this look like my estate?”

“No, sir, but there is an intrusion.”

“Well, drive over it then. Or use those useless arms and move it.”

“It’s a girl... sir.”

“A gir—” The nobleman finally seemed to notice me. He stepped closer, and his yellowed teeth pulled sharp through his sneer. “What are you doing out here by yourself, little girl?”

I couldn't speak. I felt like a rock at the bottom of the river rushing beside us. Stuck, trapped by the crushing weight of the current.

I picked at the soiled sleeve of my coat. Where was Pascal?

“Are you a lost thing of the woods?” the noble asked. “Can. You. Speak?”

“I... I...”

“Ah, apologies, sir,” the driver interjected, and I released a small sigh as the noble straightened.

“What?” he spat.

The driver pointed behind me. A troll stood at the foot of the bridge. The horse squealed, and the noble stumbled back, his shoulder thumping the side of the carriage.

Veins of burning lava lit up the dark, zig-zagging over the trolls singed skin like broken cracks across parched earth. His eyeless head tilted downwards, sharp and jagged like shattered glass. I knew the troll to be Pascal, but that didn't stop my heart from missing a few beats. He looked so real, frightening, and I hated it.

At the sight of Pascal, I thought, I hoped, that the noble would simply hurry back to his carriage and order the drive to dive on, but he didn't. Instead, he retrieved a thick, cylindrical tube from his cart, his finger twitching against its trigger.

The noble heaved the device up to his shoulder, and with it pointed at Pascal, he fired.

With a shattering crack, a gleam of metal shot from the gun, looping itself around Pascal's neck. He stumbled back but didn't fall, his stalactite fingers clawing at his new collar. The angular crevices of his face furrowed, but nothing happened. He didn't transform; he couldn't transform. The band changed, turning a bright copper, signifying its dampening power had worked.

“You’re stupid little prank didn't work!” Spit sprayed from the noble’s lips, his white, pasty complexion redding, matching the shade of his coat perfectly. “Don't you think I can't recognise a Guise when I see one? Do you take me as a fool?” He threw the gun into the carriage. “Your name, boy?”

Pas tugged at the collar. “Pascal.”

“And you?” The noble turned to me. “Were you his accomplice in this?”

“No,” Pas said quickly, and he winced as the nobleman grabbed his tapered ear and twisted. “I've never seen her before. I would never associate with one so atrocious looking. But perhaps you should let her go; she's done nothing wrong.”

“Done nothing wrong?” He eyed me, greedily like a desired jewel in a shop window. His moustache twitched. “I suppose. Off you go.”

“Go.” Pas echoed, and his voice crumbled. “Shoo! You promised you to do whatever I said.”

I did promise. I did. But that didn't mean I had to keep it. I watched as the noble wrapped chains around Pascal’s body and forced him onto the roof of the carriage.

“Where are you taking me?” Pas asked. Even trapped in the body of a troll, he looked so small.

“Where the sun spends little of her time,” the noble hissed, “and the shadows burn like sulphur.”

Trolls, I realised with an abrupt heave of my chest. The monster was taking Pas to the trolls.

“You can't.” I blurted, and I scrambled for a reason in the dirt. “They’ll... They’ll eat you too.” I glanced at the driver, but his head was forward, firm like stone. “Both of you.

From the pocket of his jacket, the noble slipped a vial. It glowed, lighting his pale hand in an unnatural green: Eapra—a form of troll repellent.

Trolls were blind and notoriously cruel. They relied on their other senses, but the use of Eapra helped to disguise the human scent, and if you were quiet, you could sneak past the trolls virtually invisible. But Eapra was rare and highly expensive, so this noble wouldn't waste it on Pascal... Would he?

“I told my brother not everyone found his stupid pranks funny. He didn’t listen; he never does. He didn’t mean for things to go too far I know he didn’t. I know the type of person he is. I know my brother!” Justified Jenna.

“Miss Morris, we don’t mean disrespect. We’re just asking that you tell us what you know.” explained the officer.

With rivers streaming down her dull olive-toned face passed her freckles and almond shaped eyes she cried with heaviness in her voice, “he’s just a kid”.

Miss Morris loved Cohen as much as any mother would in fact, she loved him more than life it’s self. Jena was just a thirteen year old when her little brother had become her full responsibility. She carried herself gracefully with such tallness and a stern look in her eyes although intimidating, loving to say the least.

On that dreary and horrible day, Miss Morris knew she would burry her brother in three days time for he was nothing but dead meat on a busy bustling road waiting for something to kill.

I yelled for him to stop; but the act was in motion. What our middle brother saw as a gentle push, our youngest saw as cataclysmic.

It wasn’t the pain but the sick that triggered his eyes to burst with tears. Our middle brother instantly stuttered apologize to both him and myself, promising and crossing his heart that he didn’t mean to push him that hard.

I move past him to the youngest and propped him up, checking his body for wounds. His sniffling slowed as I consoled and him and pinky promised him ice cream we got home from the park.

I held his hand as we walked back towards our house. The middle brother held back for a moment, then shouted only one question.

“Is Dad gonna find out?”

I should have tried harder to stop him. I shouldn’t have let him go out that night, and maybe we wouldn’t be here. I should have known that his stupid pranks would eventually anger the wrong person and it would all go downhill. There wasn’t much more I could to though. I told him that not everyone thought that they were funny, but he didn’t listen, and he paid the price. I can say that he deserved it. However, I know he also deserved a second chance, but i guess not everyone gets one. That harmless girl that just happened to be in his way definitely didn’t get a second chance. But it’s not her fault. My brother stopped being himself a long time ago. Because the brother I knew wouldn’t do those monstrous things without guilt. Now that i’m thinking about it, I do know what I should have done. I should have stopped him myself, forced him to think, before things got too out of hand. But, I shouldn’t dwell on what should have been, there’s nothing I can do now. The only thing I can do is keep moving forward and away, and maybe one day I can come to terms with this. Or maybe not.

“Why?!” I cry screaming as I fall to my knees. Everyone avoids me as firemen rush into the fire full school. I just know. He’s in there. Why. Whether or not it was his fault. He. He. He. Might be dead. My little baby brother. The one I sat with when he had a nightmare. He was in that school. The one I played games with and told story’s too. No more movie nights. I see a slip of paper fly my way

Sis,

It escalated. I didn’t know this would happen. You’ve got to believe me. I’m sorry.

Love you forever,
bro

I saw the edges of the paper crisped with tear drops over the whole paper. I melted. I cried. I screamed. At him or the world i don’t know. He isn’t here. Would never see him smile again. Would never hear him annoy me again. Would never see my baby brother again.

I was sitting there screaming at my brother. He knew the consequences of his actions. I told my brother not everyone found his stupid pranks funny. He didn’t listen…. Now it’s all his fault. We spilt apart.

I live with my husband and two kids. We all share a decently large house, and are living happily. I have NO siblings, at least that’s what I tell everyone.

As I sat there with my family HE knocked on the door begging for forgiveness. I just couldn’t forgive his mistakes. I told him to leave. He begged me, I finally agreed. He actually turned out to be not so bad after all, I still never could think of him the same.