Slayer of Tea-Sharks
a little thing I wrote a while ago, hoping to get some feedback from unbiased sources.

There he sat, sleeping at his desk. His clothes worn for the third time without washing, hair unkempt while the teacher droned on, oblivious to the people populating the class room. His hand moves, twitching with pencil in hand. Images flash through his mind, just behind his eyes, and he listens.

She leaned in there, barely awake, drifting in and out of attention, not really noticing anything anyone had to say. She pretends to listen to her friends as they talk about their classmates, almost wondering how she matched her clothes this morning, but not quite. As her eyelids slip lower over her pupils, she hears.

He lies on the couch, television on and forgotten in front of him, still wearing yesterdays clothes, his cap half off and showing the almost shaved hair. The shows beg his attention, the mindless people repeating their practiced and previously written thoughts, and their pleas go unheard. His eyes open suddenly, and before he realizes where he is, he knows.

Jumping from his seat without warning and a shower of pencils, walking past the teacher and ignoring threats of meaningless punishment, not noticing the note slowly being pulled away from his cheek. He opens the door and keeps walking, shrugging off a hand to stop him, he moves.

Moving steadily through the halls of her school, people she barely knows call out to her, she waves and tries to place their names with her distracted thoughts. No doubt by this time her friends will be talking about her behind her back, but she can’t remember why. Walking in a daze through the doors into sunlight, she goes.

Walking out the door of his house, forgetting his shoes by the door, he trots down the street, he knows where he’s going, but can’t put the place into words. He knows how to get there, but he’s never been there before, never knew it existed, but he moves with a surety of one who went there every day of their life. Never doubting a step, he follows.

He’s walked now farther than he’s ever walked before. His parents have been called, his teacher was very disappointed, but none of that matters now, he getting close. He’s almost to the edge of the city, it’s all houses now until he gets there, the place he knows, it’s there and he can almost feel it, it’s perfect, exactly what he needs now more than ever, he runs.

Her feet hurt, and she’s long since left behind her high heels. Her friends have decided it’s her time of the month, but it’s been hours and they’ve nearly forgotten about the whole thing. Her feet may be bleeding now, but she’s too busy to notice. She’ll figure it all out when she gets there, so close now. And it’ll all be so simple there. Leaving half a foot print with each step, she bleeds.

He’s pacing, it’s been hours, and this is the place, but it isn’t ready yet. He can’t wait too much longer, but he won’t have to now, it’s almost time. He paces faster now, walking in tight little circles, and then stops. Looking up, he sees.

He’s there. She is too. Finally, it’s ready, almost finished. They stand and look at each other, all three in turn, and look up. They stare unblinking at the overcast sky. A few drops of rain fall, and it stops, the soft grass beneath their feet is damp and cool, and they hold their breath in anticipation. And then, directly above them all, the clouds open, a small part in the gray sky and the sun bleeds through it. The sunlight lands over them, and they close their eyes, basking in the midday glow. The sun warms their skin, dries the grass at their feet, and one by one, they smile. He falls back barefoot onto the welcoming grass and laughs, and the others join him, loving the sheer joy of the moment. They’ll all be in trouble when they get home tonight, but that doesn’t matter now, nothing does. She wonders now when she lost her shoes, but can’t remember, and dismisses the thought. For all three of them life is perfect right now.


dolor ex fides
Good job. Impressive use of language. It says everything it has to.

Plus I like your sig - Sentio aliquos togatos contra me conspirare.


Banned - What an Asshat!
This is impressive. I rather like the imagery. I especially enjoy the seemingly pointless wandering and emptiness that comes together at the end.