alrighty, this chapter is just a little random thingie, but i liked it, so i just decided to put it as a little mini-chapter...thing. i hope you like it! i'm hoping to write a long chapter this weekend, so hopefully that'll work out good. THANKS TO: Richard Starkey (a jig! yay! jigs rock lol many thanks for reading and leaving comments :) i heart them) and Sharpsnout (yes, Locke would definitely be an awesome almanac writer lol:) many thanks too for your comments, i heart them as well)
The boy wakes up, and sunlight streams into his eyes. He squeezes them shut, irritated by the glaring morning sun. Why does it have to be so sunny in the morning? His eyes are so used to the darkness that it's a major shell-shock for them to open up to this blazing light. He thinks he sounds weird, so he stops and gets up.
It's been about a week since he, Jake, and Alex were separated. It seems like a lot longer to him, but he's not one to count days.
He scuffles around the beach, absentmindedly looking for food or something to appease his empty stomach. He had tried sand a few days ago, but that didn't work out too well. He wishes he had some music or something, or at least someone to talk to. Jake had always been his companion, and, sometimes, his iPod as well. He would constantly catch Jake singing the lyrics of a song to himself. He told Jake that he should be on American Idol, but he had a feeling that Jake didn't like that idea, because he flipped him off when it was suggested.
Finally, he finds some fruit near the area where the forest meets the sand. He sits down and unties his sneakers. What good are they when all he does is sit in the sand most of the time? He tosses them aside carelessly; he'll find them when he needs them.
As he bites into a surprisingly fresh mango, he longs for someone to talk to. Anyone would do. Absolutely anyone. He sighs. He can feel some mango lodged in his braces, but doesn't bother to try and get it out. His physical appearance never really meant much to him, unless he was going somewhere really serious. Like his dad's funeral. Jake is his only friend that ever met his dad before he died.
His eyes close again, even though he's not tired. After a few minutes, he hears something breathing beside him. His breath catches in his throat. His heart moves up twelve feet. Slowly, he opens his eyes slightly.
As they regain focus, he sees a friendly yellow face staring down at him.
"Holy crap!" he yells, scrambling away from the visitor. When he finally manages to get a good look, however, he grins to himself. "Holy crap," he mutters again.
It's a dog. He thinks it's a yellow lab. The dog's tongue lolls out of its mouth playfully, and he pads over to him, sniffing his clothes to make sure that he isn't hoarding any food.
"Hey, you," he says, reaching a hand out to pet the dog. "What's ya name?"
The first name that came to his mind is Vincent. It was his dad's name.
"Vincent?"
The dog looks up, wagging his tail, waiting anxiously for him to throw something into the waves for him to fetch.
He stares at the dog, eyes wide. "You've gotta be kidding me." He pats the ground next to him. "C'mere, Vincent," he says. The dog comes and sits down.
He laughs as he rubs under Vincent's ears. "Hey, Vincent," he says. "You ready to listen? I've got a lot to say, so too bad if you're not."
And with that, he begins to talk to another being, something he hasn't done in a long time.