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Kindle Notes & Highlights
by
A.L. Brody
Read between
July 6 - July 10, 2023
“And what exactly do you put in those pockets?” Dolores asked. “Certainly not the head of Kyle Browning.” “I could put anything I want in them. Maybe I’ll put cheese in them.” “Why on earth would you put cheese in your pockets?” “It’s just a hypothetcal, mom.” “I think that’s a brilliant idea,” her mother scoffed. “Run through the forest with stinky cheese-laden pockets . Maybe throw some melted chocolate into your tunic while you’re at it, make them nice and gooey.” “Maybe I will.”
“Worry? You’re a head, Mom. What do you have to worry about other than maybe sneezing while I’m not here and not having anyone to wipe your nose?” “Your sarcasm does not impress me,” Dolores said. “How about the fact that I still have my limbs?” Darla said, then regretted it. “Sorry. Low blow. But I guess everything is a low…nevermind.”
“How could I forget. Back when all you monsters had some weird puritanical streak going.” “Premarital sex or recreational drug use may have been poor excuses to commit murder, but it’s just how things were done back in my day
She didn’t much care about extracurricular activities, unlike her mother’s generation, who hunted with a near-puritanical fervor reserved for the clergy and certain Floridian politicians.
“I’ve seen you hunt twice now. You’re sloppy. You make a spectacle out of yourself, flinging your arms everywhere like an octopus on meth. You know what you remind me of? One of those weird tall inflatable floppy guys you see on the side of the road at car dealerships. You’re not scary. You’re just a glorified rodeo clown in a cooler jacket.”
There’s a fine line between murder and sexual tension.”
It’s like that famous saying: the unstoppable fork meets the immobile object.”
At that moment, a terrible realization came over Darla. She knew in that moment that even if you loved someone, loved them with all of your heart, it didn’t mean they would always be there when you woke up.
She’s like our Prince Harry, just less ginger and more homicidal.”
“Sometimes you do things without really thinking about why you do them. You just do them because you know you should. You’ve learned not to question your gut. And once you’re doing them, you just know deep down that it’s the right thing to do.” “I don’t know what to say.”
“You really went through all that trouble just for my mother?” Darla asked. “No,” Jarko said. “I went through all that trouble—and let me tell you, it was a lot of trouble—for your mother. And for you.” “For me? Why?” “Your mother is part of your life. I wanted to make your life better.”
“What do you want, Jarko?” “You, Darla Drake. I want you.”
“I…I don’t know. I don’t know what to say.” “Say whatever you want,” Jarko said. “Because I finally learned how to listen.”
“I want to hunt by your side until the end of time.” And as their lips met again, and her tunic fell to the floor, along with Jarko’s coat, Darla hoped the end of time never came.
“Jarko Murkvale, Duke of Death,” Darla corrected. Jarko turned to look at her, a smile on his face “Duke of Death?” Darla smiled. “You like it?” Jarko grinned. “I like it very much.”
Darla could take care of herself. He knew that. But he also didn’t want her to have to always take care of herself.
He felt like that popular spider monster. Not Mantula, the other one, the one who could shoot webs and talked nonstop about responsibility, who Jarko was pretty sure hadn’t even gone through puberty yet.
