to me, the reasons did not matter. i'd rather be alone, then made fun of, and safe behind the tall wall glaring it's impotent warnings against trespassers - stories broke free from the bounds of my mind, spread wings and echoed off of barren walls.
i talk aloud, lending my voice to characters that will grace the still air of my world for a while, and die into silence with evening, when i'd have to go back home, to possible punishments for staying out so long, and my parents' brutal, incessant fights.
gripped by my own story, i close my eyes and let my voice play out as Steeluren the Brave is battling the hoards of Althurie's invaders. his sword shines in the air of sunset, ringing on the spears of the undead. on the horizon, he sees the new ruler ride his mount, a creature fused of bodies man and animal, a thousand legged abomination, intoxicated with the stink of sweat and blood of battle.
"TO ARMS!" Prince Steeluren shouts, bravely, and...
i clutch my forehead, lips and nose, blinking in surprise. there is a reason they tell you to look where you're going, so it seems. the jagged piece of concrete i collide with stares me in the face, but worse than any broken lip, is the fact that the laughter i hear is not a part of my imagination in the least.
behind me, a boy about as old as me is doubled up with laughter, not even trying to conceal his merriment at such a wonderful turn of events.
"that... that was ******* BRILLIANT!!!" he is so busy laughing he can't breathe. in my mind scenes of brutal murder blossom promises of possible revenge.
"you just... HAHHHHAHAH!!! you didn't even SEE IT!!!!" the ******* falls backwards onto the filthy floor, clutching at his stomach.
my fists clench. i wish i could push tears back into my eyes.
the privacy of my story so violated, cheeks glowing red with shame, all i want is to run away. however, the way is blocked by a kid that does all he can possibly think of to play the part of someone weak with laughter.
"you... you *******! MOVE! just let me out!" i cannot hold my tears any more. he moves out of the way, still laughing, and i try to run outside.
"wait!" he seems to have collected his bearing, the little prick.
i don't stop. the place is huge, and through the tears i barely see my way.
he runs up to me, catching my sleeve.
"look, i'm sorry. i didn't mean to make you mad. it just was so brilliant, you".. i glare at him, and he backs off. "look, i..." i do not stop.
"wait!" he runs after me. "who wins?"
i stop. "what do you mean?"
"in your story. who wins?"
i look at him, surprised. "noone. Steeluren dies - " i say with spite, but in my mind the scene comes to life, and i regret my words.
"i mean. he ALMOST dies." i stand in silence. it's cold, and i notice his expression, worried and expectant, his torn coat and mismatched gloves.
"you overheard me." i say.
"i. i kinda. well, i wanted to know what will happen next."
"oh." i stand there looking at our feet. my boots, hand-downs from one of my cousins are a testament to my careless way with things, his feet in shoes that seem at least a size or two too big.
"where do you live?" i finally say, simply to break the silence.
"there." he points, awkwardly.
most of the buildings look the same. tall, gray skyscrapers, stinking corridors and broken lights.
"i have to go. i still have homework."
"will you come again? i..." his voice dies down. "i want to know what happens next."
"if you won't laugh."
