I know it's short but it is just the introduction. Hopefully the chapter will be longer. It all depends on if I get any readers. Please respond a tell me what you think of it. Should I continue it or not. Please reply to tell me if I should. Thank you and I hope you enjoy.
Disclaimer: I do not own Dolphin Tale or any of the characters.
Introduction:
Rain, pouring rain, coming down in sheets so dense that there was almost no visibility, soaked the areas around and in Tampa, Florida. These areas included the thin, thread bear clothes of the small boy running along the beaches of Clearwater, desperately trying to get to the place he called home. A loud crack of thunder sounded just as he dove through the entrance of cave in the rocky, jungle like parts of these beaches.
Gasping for breath he remained kneeling just inside the mouth of the cave. His back, facing the outside and the hollowing wind, began to tense as the cold air ripped through his already soaked shirt and penetrated his skin. He started crawling deeper into the cave. Finally he collapsed against the back of the shelter next to an old milk crate filled with fruit in various stages of ripeness and decay, a well-used fishing rod and a wooden bowl that collected the water that dripped slowly from a small crack in the ceiling of the cave. There the boy stayed, asleep on the sand, for the next few hours.
Unfortunately it wasn't a peaceful sleep. It was tormented with dreams of his father leaving when he was only six years old, his aunt, uncle and cousin, whom he was very close to moving away a few months later, and his mother falling ill and dying the following year. This child had lived here in the cave by himself since his mother died, since he was seven. For four years he had kept himself alive by means of meager eating. He would fish, collect fruit that was discarded by those who lived in Clearwater or swipe what he could from the vendors during farmer's markets. He collected rain water to drink and survived as well as he could. He managed, but just barely.
When his mother had become seriously ill he had stopped going to school and didn't return after her death. People never questioned his disappearance. They simply assumed that his remaining family, his aunt, uncle and cousin, had taken him in. However, this was not true. The boy slipped between shadows and buildings. He was rarely ever noticed.
His solitude had hurt him in many ways, most of which he didn't notice. He was well aware that he had gone from a thin boy to a skeletal, emaciated shadow of what he had been. He now bore many scars from most unlucky run-ins with gangs in the busier cities surrounding Clearwater as well as from his new life style. What he failed to notice was his voice. He hadn't spoken to a single person since he moved to the cave.
Four years ago his mother died. Four years ago his voice was last heard by a human being. Four years ago he spoke his last word. Four years ago he interacted with a human. Four years ago the last thing he loved was taken from him. Four years ago was the time someone spoke to him. Four years ago he was showed love for the last time. Four years ago he showed an emotion for the last time. Four years ago he last cried. Four years ago he last laughed. Four years ago he last smiled. Four years ago he was actually alive. Four years ago he became a shell of a person. Four years ago it seems his life ended. Four years ago Sawyer Nelson had disappeared. At it has been four years to long.
