Death Hath not Visited, Death Hath not Seen
"There are many ways to look at life. But some just don't care and are stubborn with their foolish one-sided view."
For a kid who was turning 4 that day, walking in a thorn-filled forest was definitely not a present that small kid would enjoy immensely. Rather, he would loathe it with great and intense hate that would overcome anyone's joyous passion.
But this kid, this bespectacled boy dragging this bushy-haired fellow through a prickly forest, wasn't actually turning 4. Though this information is actually quite small and unnecessary, he thought it important to point it out. He was always called a picky child.
Truly, he was neither 3, 5, 6, or 14 for that matter. His age was counted by birthday parties and in his life he has only had 4. That was that. Lumpy says though, that he must be at least 13, or even more for that matter, because he has the strength of one. He admits that personally, he thinks he's around 10 or so.
All these thoughts of birthday parties and confusing ages ran across his brain like scattered crumbs of bitten animal crackers and they sure knew how to stir up a riot in there; they pushed out all other thoughts violently with no hesitation. The rough scratch of tickly leafs and the mysterious prods from unknown objects of nature dissipated underneath the imagination of his ever so great brain. Despite this, pain must be felt afterwards and as they stopped at a clearing of forest, it came back to beat him for his ignorance of it's existence. Sniffles hissed at their rebounded damage and Toothy gave him a turn of his head as if expecting a snake.
Rain splattered on their heads like homeless paint spills and each cloud gave it's own silent snake-like call and all ran down, warriors of water, ready for war. Sniffles pulled his dirty mud-splattered glasses off his pale face, the cheap lens a bit cracked and blurred shook a bit with his motion, and caused the boy to quickly frown. He then huffed.
"There yet...?"
"No...not close," Toothy replied with the same slow style of speech. The end of his words were accompanied with a sigh and a deep breath of exhaustion, clearly shown through his slumped shoulders and shaking hands gripped around The Mole's great coat.
Their trek across the muddy moist grass floor was far from ending despite it winding between ancient stones and dilapidated huts, cutting through small lakes and circling and combining with previous confusing roads. The rain continued to hit their backs as if giving them harsh encouragement, and as it soaked into their hair and froze their scalps, they winced but bit back the sudden sensation. Though mud painted pictures on their legs, though rain spilled like a dropped glass cup filled brim full with liquid, though exhaustion hit them with the force of a metal edged baseball bat, they made it to the clearing they hoped for.
"...There...the house," Sniffles panted, leaning against a tree. The tree protested with it's leaves and vines poking holes through the male, but the said child did not wince. He was beyond that, way beyond to reacting to such pain. His legs ached with uncomfortable shocks of not being allowed to rest, and this blocked up his mind, leaving the small pain banging on the door of the Sniffles's brain, not able to get in.
"To think that...," Toothy started, then stopped. He heaved before continuing his statement,
"...it looked close."
"Close. Of course," Sniffles snickered sarcastically, his eyes narrowed and his mouth half open, creating a sly look of cruel irony.
A shifting human alarmed Sniffles shockingly as they stirred the small thin tree, and the boy jumped back in hideous fear. However, his exotic expression went to waste.
"...Petunia?" he gasped out and the bony skeleton of said girl moved up slowly as her arms ran away from the ground. Her hair covered her face and they gripped at her cheeks, but those dull penetrating blue eyes continued to stare back at eyes of same color. Her eyes moved up and eyebrows curved upward, her nose doing the same, and her mouth opened wide to choke out,
"Sniffles...Toothy!"
And she embraced the boy with the cracked glasses with great emotion. She smelled like the flowers she'd pick often, and this was common, but her hard-work now smelled like heartache and it was all that made the boy grip her small body slightly too hard.
"...Toothy. You're fine?" said another girl, one with amber hair hugging her neck, and aforementioned boy smiled a bit, his freckles moving along his face.
"Yeah. You?"
She laughed, a hearty laugh, and she smiled back at him with her front teeth.
"Of course."
In a place where hugging tenderly and smiling goofily would not have been a good choice...
Walls, you see, were not supposed to smell like lizards and frogs on barbeque. They were, let's say, there job was, to smell like paint or brick, maybe even old moss. Sneaky liked those kind of walls. Fate, however, seemed to have tastes opposite of him, they preferred fried smells on top walls that were indeed and literally fried. Yes, fate, decided that setting their house on fire would be lovely and grant them a beautiful smell suitable of their tastes.
"...Fate's against me," Sneaky muttered.
"Watcha' say again?" Pop asked him, curious, and apparently, deaf.
"Bad things," Disco Bear answered him.
"Things 'bout you," he continued.
He should've know what that would've caused. He probably did, actually. Or maybe he had gone mental in the short amount of time the fire had been set, and had decided that he has missed Disco Bear's dumb straight punches. Though as one smashed him against the west wall, he probably had then already decided that he disliked it. Again.
"This really isn't..." Sneaky started, then he stopped. It seemed pretty useless anyways. Cuddles shrugged at his started comment and Sneaky responded the same.
They were in a small hidden corridor, flame had yet to reached them. Because of this, they walked slowly, relaxed, and completely unguarded. And as if the fire knew their Achilles' heel, it burst into the hallway with great force and trembling noise, alarming the small, minuscule, and even ant-like figures. Their shadows appeared sketchy, as if crazily drawn by some idiotic child, their arms becoming a thin line of pencil scratches. They scrambled like the tiny yellow chick-shaped egg flecks that flew and entered their open mouths when Petunia flicked her pan and almost brought it down onto the ground with her weak wrist.
"Whoaaaaa, whoa, whoa!" Cuddles screamed unknowingly, pressing the palm of his head against the slightly burning carpet. It sizzled slightly and he was immediately reminded of the metal pan sitting in the kitchen.
Sneaky gripped the wall tightly, the wallpaper ripping slightly as his nails dug in, and he jumped off it as flame started to taste the eastern wall. If he weren't in such a sudden danger, he would have possibly admired the beauty of said fire, with it's flickering wings and gaping mouth, but his mouth indeed was gaping, and it fell even more as the two figures that appeared to be dancing, bickered on as they ran with a rather slow strut.
He would have nearly flung himself into them to speed up their ridiculous pace that kept him near the raging fire as it stalked them across the hall, but unfortunately or not, the blonde-haired boy clothed in yellow sweater, short jeans, and stinky shoes gripped his tight shirt and threw him across the blazing passage, and with a fist he screamed,
"Hurry it up!"
As they hurried in fear, though it is not yet certain whether it is the fire they are rather terrified of or the reckless boy of yellow, the thrown boy remarked grumbling,
"I'm no ball."
Leaning back against the unseen wall, his arm circled his head protectively like an helmet, and he spoke casually,
"Yeah, yeah, whatever."
The other boy, however, did not offer his forgiveness that easily and continued grumbling like an earthquake under pressure. The grumbles landed over the other's head and like a wet cloth, heavily held down his head, and after a while, the other cowardly apologized. That is, if it could be called an apology.
"...Hey, c'mon..."
"What?" A stare accompanied this.
"Don't be mad." A frown worked his way across his face during this moment.
A huff.
"I'm not."
"Awesome." Cuddles smirked, changing his tone and emotion quickly. He seemed to not noticed that the other's tone and voice was low and slightly sarcastic, but Cuddles was always like that really. Straightforward, blunt, and the typical trouble-making school boy who has never ever heard of manners. (And if he did, he surely didn't use them.)
The back door was in sight, along with a flitting image that wavered outside of said door that had been blown open.
"Hey, who's that?" Cuddles jumped suddenly, his hand trying to block out the flame. He couldn't see, it was but a hazy image of olive green and mottled black, plus, the two figures hastened towards the opposite direction when they were noticed, leaving nothing at all.
"No jokes please," Sneaky sighed, and his sweaty fingers pushed against the blonde boy's back and hurriedly, and as if herding sheep, led him to the door through push and shove. Cuddles could not make an objection in time and was pushed out of the angered house as fast as the one behind him could manage. Though Disco Bear and Pop was making quite the fuss in front of him, he didn't quite hear them. He was not deaf, no he was not, but he was actually blinded. Not literally of course, but the blurred figure flashed in his mind repeatedly. He was curious. Very much so, like a school boy, which was quite fitting of his manner.
"Hmph," Sneaky grumbled. The boy seemed to have gotten quite bored of his already dull joke already; he was ever so silent.
"...B-b-brother-r!" a voice trembled. It was cold, but not as terrifying as the look of the curious blonde boy who had caught the resemblance of their figures. The scarf wrapped around both of their necks flittered like broken butterfly wings and one of the double head's shivered. The weather was definitely harsh and uncomfortable. That, however, would not stop him from repeating "Brother!" excessively.
"What is it?" Though he spoke but three words, his tone revealed that he was indeed, quite annoyed by his brother's repetitive grumbling. The younger brother seemed to be somewhat perceptive for he stopped.
"Ah, sorry," he says quickly.
"We were spotted," says the younger.
"Yes, I know," replies the elder.
The younger pondered. Alas! Their sighting implied that they were inexperienced thieves, and he became quite sober after that; it was quite foolish though, it had already been heavily stated before, though not by tone or speech.
His elder groaned.
"Don't remind me."
"Of the gentleman?" the younger asks, curious. There's no reply, but the subtle scowl and grunt he picks up from his brother is practically a reply in itself.
It's then that he notices that he never said what he thought out loud. Or had he?
The few long moments it took for the others to reach the assembled group seemed to drag out when they all look back and reminisced to the "bad ol' days," as Sniffles called it occasionally, and whether it truly was the distance or just the yearn in each and every one of them for friend and kinship, no one knows. Perhaps, it was better that way. Who cared for such unnecessary details at such a time? No one did, really.
Sniffles objects to that however, details are all that important in actuality; he is quite unnerved at the fact that his, no, no, not his, the librarian's, book is unharmed. Completely for that matter. It is even in better shape than say, Petunia, and that is a very odd observation, which in a way, is just a simple detail. That book emits a rather creepy aura he thinks. And yes, that is also a detail.
A/N: Kind of short despite the long time I took to finish it, sorry 'bout that. (Much was actually spent on procrastination, really.)