History Lesson
Chapter Four: Chasing the Past
The bus lurched forward as it came to its final stop. Pietro was off before anyone else had even stood to leave. Ah, the sweet smell of New York City. Sure, it was dirty and overcrowded, but it felt more like home than any other place he had ever known. He repositioned the bag on his shoulder then made his way through the crowds. The station wasn't too far from his house and he needed to stretch his legs so off he went a leisurely jog. Not many people noticed him; more so they were rather flabbergasted by the sudden violent wind that filled the streets.
Pietro could almost taste his mom's cooking; she had promised to make spaghetti for his welcome-home meal. He was so caught up in the idea of actual food that he didn't notice the little boy standing perilously in his way until it was too late. Nearly falling as his sneakers caught a discarded newspaper, he skidded to a stop not an inch in front of the boy – the boy about a third of his height, wearing jeans and green t-shirt, the boy with white-silver hair.
"Hey-" Pietro began but the kid was gone, along with his bag.
A giggle, his own giggle ten-years younger, threw his attention down a nearby alleyway. The boy stood at the end, idly waving and holding out Pietro's bag with a mischievous smile plastered across his face. Pietro knew that smile, it too was his own. He had worn it many times before in prelude to the many pranks he had pulled on his sister, including the time he had filled the shampoo bottle with Crest Kids toothpaste. Needless to say, Pietro jetted down the narrow alley in a fraction of a second. Again, the boy was gone.
Something small, rather solid and blunt hit him in the back of the head. Pietro turned in time to catch the stone fall to the ground and the figure of the boy disappear around a corner. Clenching his teeth in irritation, he followed the departing footsteps to a dead-end. A rusted metal door threatened to close shut at the end of the alley. Pietro caught it, stepping inside cautiously. A small set of stairs led downward into a dimly lit corridor. Pietro's childhood giggle resounded from within it.
"Alright," Pietro warned. "That's it." He speared into the darkness, using the echoes at his guide. The eerily-familiar voice moved just out of his reach each time he pounced upon it. A door opened slowly at the end of the hallway, letting in a rectangular beam of light. Frustrated beyond all regard, Pietro ran to it mustering every ounce of control he had over his powers.
The door blew off as he rushed passed it, and many random objects such as the broken light fixtures followed him in his wake. The room was empty.
"What the hell is going on!" he demanded.
As if to answer, the door lifted off the ground from where it had landed and righted itself in the doorway. The door, Pietro noticed, was solid steel.
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Two short updates this weekend. Thanks for reading, remember to review so I know you guys want more!