Post by Sparky Cobalt on Dec 29, 2008 3:03:05 GMT -5
His breathing was heavier than usual. You'd think after being out and about in the wild being chased by whatever-you-call-thems would have put Sparky back into some sort of shape--other than a circle--but no, here he was, huffing and puffing his way up a tower and through a run-on sentence. "Shit." He paused to breathe, to drag a sleeve across his forehead, to let his chest calm itself from its expanding-deflating riot, to think. Why was he coming up this way, again? There wasn't even anything at the top of the tower, besiendless amounts of nothingdes perhaps the occasional dust ball or first year student attempting to 'end it all' as they say.
Ah well. Who needs reasons these days anymore, anyway?
He made his way up the last steps and burst out into the world, emerging in front of his celestial audience and taking in his surroundings. He looked arothe clouds are grey todayund, spotting a lonely wooden stool knocked to its side nearby. He flipped it back up to a standing position using the minimum effort required, and brought his hand of justice down upon the soft unyielding wood to dispel whatever grime, corruption, and greed might have collected on it. He struck it once, twice, thrice, and then he sat down. His dirty jeans pressed between him and the worn down wood of the chair, and he sighed.
Was it a sigh of contentment? Of peace? Of relief and release?
Maybe it was just a regular sigh. It's not as if every time you sigh it's a dramatic event. Every breath of air out of your little lungs doesn't mark an event occuring in your life. Maybe it was just a rush of air crawling out of his mouth.
He sat with his back to the sky, to the neverending horizon line, to that winter crisp blue highlighted by the darkening clouds hanging like corpses in the grilike inverted crossesps of the heavens. Was it a metaphor? Was he turning away from the world? Or was he carrying the world on his shoulders... Or was he simply tired of looking out at things he would never touch? Or are we simply over thinking things? I mean, this is Sparky we're talking about, after all, if you haven't realized yet. He's not all that bright.
The boy looked down at his shoes, pointed at the tips of each other and covered with what looked like black dirt and flecks of snow. These shoes had taken him a lot of places. He owed them a lot, for safely traveling with him to the ends of... Africa. And other places.
Shoes...
That was how he had first met Teagan, now that he thought about it. He'd been working part-time at a shoe store and she had come looking for a pair of shoes. He'd been attracted to her beauty and somewhat... bitchiness, and had seen her later on looking sad at school. So many things had happened since then.
For one, he didn't work there anymore. Now that he thought about it... That was almost three years ago.
His relationship with Teagan hadn't gotten much further or any better than that. Hell, his relationship with ANYONE hadn't gotten much further or better than that. He'd spent so much time chasing Teagan around and running away from her at the same time that, well, he found he had no real social life to speak of at all. In fact, at the moment, the only friendship he could think of that he had was with his adopted dog, Teagan the Second. That was kind of sapathetic pile of trilobitesd, don't you think? At least, the people who witnessed him dressing his dog in dreadful color combinations of dresses and bows seemed to think so.
Eh. Screw them.
He looked up now, away from his worn shoes and back up towards the greying sky. Maybe it was a good thing he didn't talk to people all that much. He wasn't any good at it, after all. It seemed like everyone he talked to he would just piss off or annoy or some other unpleasant verb. Yes... His dog would do as company. At least, for now, right? It did him fine in Africa, and it would sure as hell do him fine back here. Home. Or at least, it used to be. Being gone so long wasn't any good for his state of mind about the place, after all.
Now, why did he climb the tower, again?
He rested his head in one of his hands, and with the other, picked at the zipper on his hoodie. Well, now that he was up here, he might as well stay. The trip back down the tower wouldn't be any fun, anyway. His eyes strayed across the sky, picking out patterns in the clouds and his bloodstream absorbing the brisk oxygen of the sky.
He really needed a hobby.DERP!DERP!
Ah well. Who needs reasons these days anymore, anyway?
He made his way up the last steps and burst out into the world, emerging in front of his celestial audience and taking in his surroundings. He looked arothe clouds are grey todayund, spotting a lonely wooden stool knocked to its side nearby. He flipped it back up to a standing position using the minimum effort required, and brought his hand of justice down upon the soft unyielding wood to dispel whatever grime, corruption, and greed might have collected on it. He struck it once, twice, thrice, and then he sat down. His dirty jeans pressed between him and the worn down wood of the chair, and he sighed.
Was it a sigh of contentment? Of peace? Of relief and release?
Maybe it was just a regular sigh. It's not as if every time you sigh it's a dramatic event. Every breath of air out of your little lungs doesn't mark an event occuring in your life. Maybe it was just a rush of air crawling out of his mouth.
He sat with his back to the sky, to the neverending horizon line, to that winter crisp blue highlighted by the darkening clouds hanging like corpses in the grilike inverted crossesps of the heavens. Was it a metaphor? Was he turning away from the world? Or was he carrying the world on his shoulders... Or was he simply tired of looking out at things he would never touch? Or are we simply over thinking things? I mean, this is Sparky we're talking about, after all, if you haven't realized yet. He's not all that bright.
The boy looked down at his shoes, pointed at the tips of each other and covered with what looked like black dirt and flecks of snow. These shoes had taken him a lot of places. He owed them a lot, for safely traveling with him to the ends of... Africa. And other places.
Shoes...
That was how he had first met Teagan, now that he thought about it. He'd been working part-time at a shoe store and she had come looking for a pair of shoes. He'd been attracted to her beauty and somewhat... bitchiness, and had seen her later on looking sad at school. So many things had happened since then.
For one, he didn't work there anymore. Now that he thought about it... That was almost three years ago.
His relationship with Teagan hadn't gotten much further or any better than that. Hell, his relationship with ANYONE hadn't gotten much further or better than that. He'd spent so much time chasing Teagan around and running away from her at the same time that, well, he found he had no real social life to speak of at all. In fact, at the moment, the only friendship he could think of that he had was with his adopted dog, Teagan the Second. That was kind of sapathetic pile of trilobitesd, don't you think? At least, the people who witnessed him dressing his dog in dreadful color combinations of dresses and bows seemed to think so.
Eh. Screw them.
He looked up now, away from his worn shoes and back up towards the greying sky. Maybe it was a good thing he didn't talk to people all that much. He wasn't any good at it, after all. It seemed like everyone he talked to he would just piss off or annoy or some other unpleasant verb. Yes... His dog would do as company. At least, for now, right? It did him fine in Africa, and it would sure as hell do him fine back here. Home. Or at least, it used to be. Being gone so long wasn't any good for his state of mind about the place, after all.
Now, why did he climb the tower, again?
He rested his head in one of his hands, and with the other, picked at the zipper on his hoodie. Well, now that he was up here, he might as well stay. The trip back down the tower wouldn't be any fun, anyway. His eyes strayed across the sky, picking out patterns in the clouds and his bloodstream absorbing the brisk oxygen of the sky.
He really needed a hobby.DERP!DERP!