“Boop.” I reiterate the chants of my boredimian cursed people droopily laying on Papa’s, now mine, couch looking up at the redwood ceiling. Watching the reddish-brown wooden ceiling paint slowing chipping away is the most entertaining thing I could think of at this moment.

I flip onto my side groaning at our table littered with my dictionaries, novels and games that Papa uses for our made-up languages like when we play World Traveling Merchant or/and sometimes simultaneously black and white square board games with cute pieces on it. All of which Papa wouldn’t let me play until I carved my own pieces, mind you.

Reminds of a song Papa taught me to remember the rules.

“One…cute…Ophi one by one.”

“Two wet turt-te-leaves swimmingly two-by-two.”

“Two hypy duh-doggies dash to play.”

“Eight witty kit-ties stalk and POUNCE -prey.”

“Two powerful dragons cross the sea.”

“And one last Papa to go as he please.”

We haven’t played in a while. Papa started holding back a lot and refused to play because it frustrated him, but he doesn’t enjoy losing. If he wants to win so badly, then he should stop holding back already.

It’s been about four hours since Papa and Kiki left and three hours and fifty minutes since I finished cleaning the kitchen and exhausted all of my usual entertainment for the day, leaving me mentally and more so spiritually drain from the lack of human contact. I could easily read more, but Papa says I have a daily limit because too much reading makes your eyes fall out.

A scary thought, but it must be true if Papa says so.

My brain went from being super worried to a low-functioning question machine, filling my head with all kinds of questions, from the basic stuff to the absurd. It made me wonder if I was going nuts.

Maybe I am insane, and this is all a dream inside my comatose body. Or I could just be bored.

Or cohooooma.

Nah, just bored.

Or am I?!

I am.

After a while I stumble onto other thoughts that went something along the lines like that.

How many trees did it take to build this house?

Papa said it took half a forest to make it, but how big is a forest?

“Probably like ten trees.”

How big is a tree?

Why did it take half of it?

“Five trees aren’t a lot, though.”

Or is it?

“I’m bored. I wonder if they taste good.”

If I lick the walls, would I taste bark, wax or soap?

If you spot this narrative on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.

“No one was around so I should try…so bored bored BORED!”

What should I make tomorrow? Something sweet would be nice, but Papa hasn’t gotten any sweet crystals in a while…I should ask him for more. But I already begged my friend to stay here…I should ask him later.

“I hope they come back soon. Gah I’m boooooored.”

Sitting up, which made all the blood rush to my head, making me spin into a whirl of a twirl. Stumbling my way to the window to take a peek outside, hoping that the barriers light show would improve my mood.

When I take a few steps from the window, a flash of light blinds me.

“Gaaah!!”

The booming explosion comes after it, shaking the entire house so violently that I fall over.

As soon as it stops, I run to my bed to hide under the sheets, shivering and covering my ears, hoping whatever's making that noise goes away.

This is the first time anything like this has happened. For the last fourteen years, the loudest sound that came from the outside was the in-tune marching that came three times a day.

Minutes pass with nothing happening only helps stew my anxiety as to the point of boiling over.

But I am strong too.

I am an Akachi.

And I-I-I-I refuse to leave my bed until they came back. I mean, how could I after hearing something that sounds like the world was exploding outside? Even if I had the courage to find out what it was, there was no way I could do anything to help.

I am just too weak to do anything…

Then why does it matter? The thought appears like a phantom gripping the truth onto the deepest trenches of my heart, but it wasn’t wrong.

If something or someone could get inside our house, then what was I going to do about it?

It’s not like I can defend myself.

All I have is Papa and Kyrie to help me out and if they never come back, then what? Remembering back to how much they were in sync before they left, hazing my mind even further.

What if Papa likes her more than me? Maybe he realizes how small I really am, then left with her?

I knew that it’s all lies my head was making, but still.

That Papa really loved me more than anything and for some reason Kyrie was beyond trustworthy.

But still I’m scared.

A deep fear anchoring my soul downwards, turning my trust in Papa and Kiki, twisting it to warp my mind, but that insecurity in my mind always been. Even after everything, I just couldn’t shake it away when I was alone. I needed help.

“Yo sleepin’ already? Man, that sucks for me don’ it.”

“Sure does. Guess I’ll just toss you in the barrel.”

“Waitwaitwait! Me and boilin’ wata ain’ friends, ya hear!”

Wow. Just how perfect both of your timings can be. Like my personal saviors there, always when I need them most. I best return that gratitude in kind.

Kyrie stares again into space as Papa and I lie around on my freshly mopped floor, observing her.

You would think I’d be used to her zone outs, and honestly, I am.

I left her alone until she came back and when she did Papa and I looked at each other we came up with the same idea and with a simultaneous nod of agreement we enacted a plan to poke her cheeks.

It’s as exactly as it sounds; we were going to shock her with our cheek pokes and tease her together. Finally, I would not be at the butt of jokes.

At the crucial moment of cheek impact, Papa pulls away, leaving me alone, caught in the act.

“Mopii, whatcha doin?”

Before I could lash out at him, he had already retreated to his couch, leaving behind a single bottle of wash behind to relay his message.

I turned to Kyrie to speak, but suddenly felt exhausted and my head felt foggy.

I just felt so sleepy that I didn’t feel like I could move at all.

“Pa…pa…ti-hyme?”

“It’s let’s see,” he rolls up his sleeve to check his bare forearm, “Whoa, way past your bedtime, little lady.”

“Kii…kii…clea?”

“Ophi?” Kyrie asks worried for me, but I could barely hear her. My breathing slows to where it synchronizes with my blinks.

The last thing I remember before completely blanking out was the flowing of warm water all throughout my body then the comforting embrace of my blankets as I drift off.