10 May 2012
Something tugged at his hand. He took a look around, but it was all dark. He realized he was gripping something. Bringing his hand up to his face, and cautiously opening it, soil seeped from the openings. He began to panic a bit inside, but couldn’t move. All he could do was look at his hand, as pitch black strands squirmed their way over his hand and himself from behind, engulfing him and the soil entirely from view.
A knock hit the door. “Hurry up,” his sister yelled. He took a look around him. Water was still pouring over him, it was bright, and there was no soil in his palm. He shook it off mentally, feeling more at ease with the water, and finished up and made his way downstairs.
He looked at the clock on the oven, and noticed he should skip the enjoyment part of breakfast that his sister had made. As is, she was already putting her shoes on and giving him an evil look, and he didn’t want to be slapped again. Scooping up the eggs and potatoes on the toast, he quickly picked it up and took a bite of it to gain his sister’s appreciation. He always loved garlic, but he found it hard fighting off spitting it out. His sister’s love for garlic made him look like he hated it; he was no match for her taste here. He could still see everything clearly from earlier in the shower. He took another bite of his sandwich, and slipped on his ragged shoes. Picking up his pack, he went outside as she closed the door behind them. The sun could barely shine through the clouds, which illuminated a few spots on the ground here and there, and the few rays of light that he could feel seemed to help him feel better and calmer. He didn’t feel like he had much to worry about here. They both raced each other to the station.
Part 3 • Opuss № I