Post by Michael on Oct 18, 2024 16:56:52 GMT -5
21
synchroncity
WITH ZERO BREATHES, WITH ZERO FLOW
The moon hung high in the sky, it's brilliant rays illuminating the fog filled cityscape below. The pitter-patter of raindrops hitting hard against the pavement echoed through the trash-lined streets. The inhabitants of the city quickly rushed along the sidewalks. Newspapers and jackets held over their heads as they fled from the torrent of rain. That was only the case for the ones lucky enough to have a place to go. For others, the ones dressed in rags that were covered in dirt and grim. They had nowhere to run and no safety from the storm. They had only the flimsy cardboard boxes that they called home.
These people, these poor unfortunate souls, were Castundana's lost and forgotten. Left with no choice but to live amongst the trash of the privileged.
But the focus of our story is not on the melancholy city of Castundana. A city so steeped in tragedy and corruption that it has become it's very lifeblood. No, the city is our setting and sometimes even a minor character, but never the star.
That is an honor reserved for another.
A young man of sixteen, born from remarkable circumstances into an unremarkable situation.
He sits on the edge of worn and rusted bed that is not his own. He smiles, warm and comforting but it feels awkward on his face. It's not something he's used to doing and he worries it shows.
The little girl on the bed in front of him laughs, he squirms, uncomfortable but doing his best to keep his smile.
"Your smile's funny bro." she speaks, a slight raspiness to her voice that makes it sound deeper than it should be.
He pretends not to notice, instead he drops his smile with a dramatic sigh. "Funny huh?" he asked, scrunching his face together in an over exaggerated expression of anger. "That really hurts you hear? I've been working on my smile just for you." he huffed and turned his to the side.
"Well you need more practice!" she declared, unfazed by his theatrical in the slightest.
He clutched at his chest, grabbing the fabric of his shirt tightly in his hand and bent over. "So...cold...." he said, his final words just as overacted like the rest of his performance. He collapsed onto the floor and out of the little girl's view.
For whatever reason she'd found it funny and began to laugh. He listened to it with his eyes closed. He cherished every second of her raspy little laugh. It was pure and innocence, entirely lacking in weight from the world.
If only it would have lasted forever.
Cough Cough
She began, her laughter abruptly cut short by the coughing fit. Almost immediately he shot up from the floor and moved to the side of her bed. He gently placed a hand on her back and looked at her with worrisome eyes. He wished there was something he could, something to help, but all he could was wait.
Wait for the fit to stop.
Wait for the next one.
Wait for her to die.
He wanted to frown, he could feel the corner of his lips trying to force themselves downward as he watched her cough. He forced himself not. He wouldn't let her see him frown, she was pretty adamant about hating them.
"Smile." he reminded himself, "Just smile, she loves your funny smile."
He smiled but it felt awkward on his face.
These people, these poor unfortunate souls, were Castundana's lost and forgotten. Left with no choice but to live amongst the trash of the privileged.
But the focus of our story is not on the melancholy city of Castundana. A city so steeped in tragedy and corruption that it has become it's very lifeblood. No, the city is our setting and sometimes even a minor character, but never the star.
That is an honor reserved for another.
A young man of sixteen, born from remarkable circumstances into an unremarkable situation.
He sits on the edge of worn and rusted bed that is not his own. He smiles, warm and comforting but it feels awkward on his face. It's not something he's used to doing and he worries it shows.
The little girl on the bed in front of him laughs, he squirms, uncomfortable but doing his best to keep his smile.
"Your smile's funny bro." she speaks, a slight raspiness to her voice that makes it sound deeper than it should be.
He pretends not to notice, instead he drops his smile with a dramatic sigh. "Funny huh?" he asked, scrunching his face together in an over exaggerated expression of anger. "That really hurts you hear? I've been working on my smile just for you." he huffed and turned his to the side.
"Well you need more practice!" she declared, unfazed by his theatrical in the slightest.
He clutched at his chest, grabbing the fabric of his shirt tightly in his hand and bent over. "So...cold...." he said, his final words just as overacted like the rest of his performance. He collapsed onto the floor and out of the little girl's view.
For whatever reason she'd found it funny and began to laugh. He listened to it with his eyes closed. He cherished every second of her raspy little laugh. It was pure and innocence, entirely lacking in weight from the world.
If only it would have lasted forever.
Cough Cough
She began, her laughter abruptly cut short by the coughing fit. Almost immediately he shot up from the floor and moved to the side of her bed. He gently placed a hand on her back and looked at her with worrisome eyes. He wished there was something he could, something to help, but all he could was wait.
Wait for the fit to stop.
Wait for the next one.
Wait for her to die.
He wanted to frown, he could feel the corner of his lips trying to force themselves downward as he watched her cough. He forced himself not. He wouldn't let her see him frown, she was pretty adamant about hating them.
"Smile." he reminded himself, "Just smile, she loves your funny smile."
He smiled but it felt awkward on his face.
@noone
