Dreams of the Blind
Author's Note: Okay, I've never EVER done a "Foster's" fic before and after reading just snippets of a few other stories, I really don't know what to say. I never even thought of using such ideas in this kind of show but its inspiring stuff. Special thanks to "Dude13" and his story "A Day in the life".
You were right, it is wrong for someone to make up a romance between an 8 year old and a 20 year old. And I think it's that's exactly what I want to do with this story, but not in the way that you think.
I don't know how this is going to turn out, but I'm trying my best and I hope you'll get out of it what I'm feeling about it, right now. Anyways, enjoy and feed back would be GREATLY appreciated!
Chapter 1: Crossed
I woke up one morning…… and saw a face that wasn't there...
I woke up the next morning…… and saw a dream that didn't exist...
I woke up on the last morning……I couldn't find my heart...and I wondered……
……should I care?
The crisp cold winds chill the innocent flesh of youth that so carelessly walks across the tombstone colored path that leads to the future of blank shells. A tear to fall, a drop of ice, a cold, cold reality sinking in.
"What life can be offered" the boy wondered, "what dreams could exist, what, what indeed?".
A wandering soul drowns out the painful echoes of man's world of steel and stone, a prison bound and bred for those lost in the shadows that bind us all. A red shirt, white sleeves, tan pants, black shoes, and an empty heart.
"Is this wrong? Is this wrong for me to think this way?" the boy thought to himself.
School, money, bullies, homework, not a single torment of his Earthly alter ego could dare even match the slightest ounce of indescribable pain that ripped and rapes across young Mac's confused soul.
"I wonder if my parents ever felt this way, is this is what love is? What a sick joke" Mac thought.
Over the past few days, the sands of time have grown inside and out of the very being of such a sweet boy. Ideas and feelings, questions and puzzles, sins and dreams, the very making for a tortured soul that would remain forever sealed in a box of man and animal. Mac has been thinking about someone, someone that he knew he shouldn't, yet had no clue as to why. The familiar sights of the wooden house shined in Mac's tear filled eyes.
"Foster's" Mac said. The boy sighed "How could he, how could he make me feel this way, I thought he loved me".
The warmth of the sun brought no cheer nor love to the face of the boy that had brought it so many times to so many others. Sneakers crunched over fall leaves, Mac approached the house with tears splashing across his shoe laces as each step sliced deeper into his heart, like a knife being twisted and turned. A shivering young hand knocks on the entrance to this hollow castle.
Wilt smiles as the door opens "Oh, hey there Mac, right on cue".
Mac smiles happily "Hey Wilt, how's everything?".
Hours later……
The young boy walks out of the house and turns to the windows and the faces of all his imaginary friends.
Mac shouts "Bye guys, see you all tomorrow".
Happy feet dance upon the sidewalk as springy steps resides happily in the soul of the young, brown haired boy. A creaky squeal wretches from the front door as someone from the inside pushed it open.
"Hey Mac, you forgot your back pack"
Mac stopped cold……and so did the rest of the world.
Dead silence never felt so warm, never has it been so willingly embraced so deeply and lovingly. Mac's eyes turn and try their best to conceal what desires lay behind them, and what demons preyed to rip upon his mind as the false, plastic smile of an innocent, replays its pitiful puppet show one more time.
"T-t-t-t-thanks……Frankie" Mac said nervously.
The sweet smile of heavenly charms read like poetry in motion. Crimson locks of breathlessly beautiful red hair, they dance like wildfire and burn the very aching, lonely depths of the youngest and oldest of hearts in every life form imaginable. Creamy peach colored flesh, soft and sweet enough to eat is admired behind the invisible hands that reach out through ghostly strings to grab the brass ring, grab what is so painfully being flaunted at him.
Frankie smiled "No problem kiddo, see you tomorrow. Oh hey by the way, thanks a lot for cheering Bloo up today, it was really sweet of you. He really needed it after getting over that bug he caught. Thanks again, see ya".
Mac simply nodded and waved in response, incoherent babbling replied to Frankie's kind gesture, no known language could be derived from it. The boy's head was brimming with angelic hums, heavenly songs and sweet voices that melt the walls of Hell itself and bathe all listeners in the pool of serenity. Mac's cheeks blushed bright red, and his tears shined bright blue.
SLAP!
"Faggot peasant" Mac cursed to himself, rubbing his throbbing red cheek.
He HATES you……
Bloo HATES you……
And she……and she……
NO, NO, NO GOD DAMMIT!
To be continued……