Jackson sat up in bed like a bullet from a gun. He had been having a nightmare about being driven through the rain by a devilish turtle spouting pirate slang. He now had a splitting headache. What the hell? Had he been hit over the head with a rock?
Jackson crawled out of his small bed as though he had been bashed with a rock. The wooden floorboards creaked under his feet. He couldn't remember anything. It was as if his mind had been completely wiped.
Jackson staggered across the creaky wooden floor to the mirror. Judging by his looks, he was about 12. His hair was an unnatural looking black and about as disheveled as his bed. He must have been thrashing about that night from his nightmare.
Like molasses, his memories began slowly oozing back into his mind. First on his agenda, he needed something for breakfast.
Quick as a rabbit, Jackson bolted down the creaky staircase in the corner of the attic. His furious dash was interrupted when he noticed his ground floor. It was completely empty save a busted old boom box and a cardboard box. Something seemed fishy but he had no idea what. He simply shrugged away his suspicion.
He walked over to the door and fumbled a bit with the lock before finally taking a step outside.
The cool autumn air was like a swift slap in the face. Jackson instantly remembered everything. The wind was blowing quietly, like ghosts whispering amongst the trees. It was early as hell. The sun was barely up and his neighbors were all in the safe haven of their homes.
His stomach growled. He did not wish to be delayed any longer. Jackson began striding away from his sad excuse for a house, built buy some damn, six-foot tall raccoon who had obviously had ignored any safety precautions. It looked like it would collapse into oblivion, for heaven's sake! Jackson pushed the angry thought from his head and continued striding amongst the thinly scattered trees, looking for one tree bearing a treasure: perfect peaches.
A river flowed along the side. His world was perfect. Of course, in truth it wasn't even close. And Jackson was about to find that out the hard way.
Still, Jackson enjoyed his seemingly perfect day as he walked along side his seemingly perfect river amongst the seemingly perfect trees looking for seemingly perfect peaches. He strode along glancing up at the treetops. Finally, he came to a tree on a small cape of land that bore big, juicy, delicious peaches.
Unfortunately, the peaches were out of reach. Luckily, he remembered an old trick. He grabbed the tree and, without much effort, shook three peaches from the canopy. A peach landed perfectly at his feet.
Jackson picked it up, licking his lips like a dog staring at his master's dinner. He was about to sink his eager teeth in when his headache came back. It was even more violent this time. It felt as though somebody was tearing his head in two. Without warning, Jackson collapsed at the base of the tree.