~~*Author's Note: Again, the characters arin't mine. Except me.*~~
//Timeline: Somewhere in the area of 3-4 days after my "first encounter"
R&R!\\
~#%#~
The rain was hard - not the kind of rain that can be nice to a person, like the soft summer
rains, or the drizzle on a foggy autumn evening. It was one of those rains that persons of
any sense would avoid at all costs. A rain that was cold, and full of sorrow.
Because, when it rains like that - well...
Strange things happen.
I liked to walk then.
We weren't anywhere near each other, the small boy and I - we could never have been farther
apart, in fact. Somewhere, in a time and space where all that matters in the world is the
continuing of one's path, chosen from the beginning of our very existence to the end; set
for THIS day, THIS time. We were both on our separate paths -
Except that sometimes, paths cross.
Our's did.
He was small, even for a child. Small arms wrapped around small legs; small hands clenching
small calves. Small head resting on small knees. Small head rested on small knees. Small as
small as small is small; or something like that. But then again, there were contrasts. His
hair wasn't small - it was long. Long, and beautiful; bluer than a midnight sky in the
cosmos. Large were his clothes, though they were plastered to his small frame. Large shoes
on small feet.
Large sobs with large tears from large eyes streaming down small cheeks.
He sat, silhouetted by a single lamplight overhead, which had cast shadows in the dim
evening light. His entire form had been wet from overexposure to the elements.
But I didn't notice.
I had walked on, even though my hair had been dripping; even though my jeans were rubbing
the skin of my legs raw; even though my shirt was sticking to my thin form; even though my
innermost garments were just as wet as if I'd run them through the washer. My hair had been
hanging in clumps of dark blonde, dripping more water into my mouth. My feet, even in their
shoes of black leather and once white socks, then brown from the muddy waters of the street
and sidewalk, were colder than blocks of ice. Even my hands, stuffed into the pocket of my
black sweater, were hard to feel on that day.
But I kept walking.
It finally came that our paths crossed - again, like the time before, he on one side,
myself on the other. Yet this time, it wasn't in mutual understanding that we met -
It was in desperation.
I had stopped, head down, eyes closed, ears intent upon the sounds of his pitiful sobs.
Sobs that meant an inner torture more horrendous than most any could have imagined.
I thought it was quite musical.
I had slowly lifted my head, locks that had been "guarding" my eyes clutching to the skin
of my cheeks, and opened my eyes to the sound that I found so entertaining.
He looked up then, too - his eyes had been pleading, looking for a comfort that no mortal
could ever possibly give unto one such as him.
It had all happened so fast after that.
A rising of a small arm; a quick, high-pitched cry, unintelligible; a small clink of
bracelets.
A blink.
And then he had been gone
this small master of Hell.
~#%#~
~**After Note: Well, what do you think? Who's gonna be next?! Could be up to you! E-mail
me with your ideas on who would be the best next candidate! Be sure to add little details,
like what you think they look like...JA for now; it's DEE-NER TIME!**~
//Timeline: Somewhere in the area of 3-4 days after my "first encounter"
R&R!\\
~#%#~
The rain was hard - not the kind of rain that can be nice to a person, like the soft summer
rains, or the drizzle on a foggy autumn evening. It was one of those rains that persons of
any sense would avoid at all costs. A rain that was cold, and full of sorrow.
Because, when it rains like that - well...
Strange things happen.
I liked to walk then.
We weren't anywhere near each other, the small boy and I - we could never have been farther
apart, in fact. Somewhere, in a time and space where all that matters in the world is the
continuing of one's path, chosen from the beginning of our very existence to the end; set
for THIS day, THIS time. We were both on our separate paths -
Except that sometimes, paths cross.
Our's did.
He was small, even for a child. Small arms wrapped around small legs; small hands clenching
small calves. Small head resting on small knees. Small head rested on small knees. Small as
small as small is small; or something like that. But then again, there were contrasts. His
hair wasn't small - it was long. Long, and beautiful; bluer than a midnight sky in the
cosmos. Large were his clothes, though they were plastered to his small frame. Large shoes
on small feet.
Large sobs with large tears from large eyes streaming down small cheeks.
He sat, silhouetted by a single lamplight overhead, which had cast shadows in the dim
evening light. His entire form had been wet from overexposure to the elements.
But I didn't notice.
I had walked on, even though my hair had been dripping; even though my jeans were rubbing
the skin of my legs raw; even though my shirt was sticking to my thin form; even though my
innermost garments were just as wet as if I'd run them through the washer. My hair had been
hanging in clumps of dark blonde, dripping more water into my mouth. My feet, even in their
shoes of black leather and once white socks, then brown from the muddy waters of the street
and sidewalk, were colder than blocks of ice. Even my hands, stuffed into the pocket of my
black sweater, were hard to feel on that day.
But I kept walking.
It finally came that our paths crossed - again, like the time before, he on one side,
myself on the other. Yet this time, it wasn't in mutual understanding that we met -
It was in desperation.
I had stopped, head down, eyes closed, ears intent upon the sounds of his pitiful sobs.
Sobs that meant an inner torture more horrendous than most any could have imagined.
I thought it was quite musical.
I had slowly lifted my head, locks that had been "guarding" my eyes clutching to the skin
of my cheeks, and opened my eyes to the sound that I found so entertaining.
He looked up then, too - his eyes had been pleading, looking for a comfort that no mortal
could ever possibly give unto one such as him.
It had all happened so fast after that.
A rising of a small arm; a quick, high-pitched cry, unintelligible; a small clink of
bracelets.
A blink.
And then he had been gone
this small master of Hell.
~#%#~
~**After Note: Well, what do you think? Who's gonna be next?! Could be up to you! E-mail
me with your ideas on who would be the best next candidate! Be sure to add little details,
like what you think they look like...JA for now; it's DEE-NER TIME!**~
