Family

400 words today. Here goes:

“It’s what brothers are for.”  My brother’s words echoed throughout the house as I stalked the hallways, looking for the two intruders.  The smells of early morning dew crept in through the open windows.  In my hand, I held a hot glue gun and some papers – my weapons of choice.  The house itself was large, with tall rooms and wooden floors. The halls coiled around the rooms like vipers.

It didn’t take me long to find the trespassers.  They were short, wearing dark clothes and some sort of mask.  As I walked closer, I found that the masks were the faces of a Star Trek race called the Ferengi. 

Their arms were frozen in place, groping for anything they could find of worth.  Stuck in time, thanks to myself.

I lifted my glue gun and held a paper to one of the men’s backs.  The paper in my hand shimmered, and suddenly the man was inside of it.  My thumb pushed the stick and glue gushed forth from the tip, and I applied it to the photo, locking the burglar inside.  I turned the page of my collection and did the same to his partner, sealing him away as well. 

Satisfied, I turned toward the kitchen, finding the fridge.   I located a photo of my niece, and pulled my glue gun out once more.  I flicked the modes easily, and applied a dot of glue to ensure she was sleeping.  I then proceeded to correct her memories, so that the poor thing would not recall the men entering the house.

It was then that my sister in law walked up to me from the hallway to the right of the fridge.

“I don’t know if you can hear me,” she called into the darkness of the room, “but please.  Please, just leave my daughter out of this.”

I froze.

I’d known she was immune to my time-stopping abilities for a long time; however I hadn’t known she was able to tell when someone was being corrected. Curious, I dropped my glue gun to my side.

“Please, you’re my husband’s brother.  Have mercy.”

Her voice was quivering and tears ran down her face.  I understood. 

Silently, I wiped the photo of her daughter clean of all the glue I’d applied, and the memories rushed back into her mind.  Once finished, I paced down the hallway once more. 

“You know I’ll never leave you,” my uncle’s voice called toward my father through the memories of time, “It’s what brothers are for.”