Jason1 105 Posted October 6, 2012 The boy slowly rises, as his sadness comprises. Like a piggy-back ride. All I can see...is his face. Meek and in anguish, among the dozens the children. He lifts up his bag, and swings it over his shoulder. The children are laughing, and speaking of better times. Where is this boy's...better time? Was it stolen? Or rather, eclipsed by the thousands of words. Why haven't I noticed him before... He steps forward, but not without looking around. The spirit of timidity is abolished by love. Moving forward, his eyes are nowhere in sight. Glued to the floor; nothing less, nothing more. No child takes notice, not one look at all. This is supposed to be the Cape of Good Hope, right? If someone is left out, then clearly it's not. The boy ruffled his uniform. His white shirt was awkwardly tucked inside his green sweater vest. He grabbed his collar, folding it from behind. As his presence grew closer, and closer, I noticed those shoes. Unlink most, his shoes were as clean, and as settled, as his non-existent head of hair. I stroked back my blonde hair, but my eyes were kept locked. And in the moments remaining, his steps began to slow, and finally, were halted at a few feet from mine. He looks up, halfway. Then, his eyes carry his head to my face. I cannot tell you know how many moments were spent, in that unfinished stare. I tilt my head to the side, then slowly, express my wonder. "Hey....what's wrong?" Only once, or maybe twice, throughout my life have I ever seen such an amount of emotion on one single face. His lower eyelids rise, as they struggle to hold the saltwater from above. He doesn't move, just looks down again, covering his face with his trembling hand. The rain kept pouring, and pouring, as I heard his voice for the first time. It sounded like a quiet, feeble wail. I didn't think. Not one thought ran through my head. The mind doesn't tell you to hug a stranger, something else does. My arms were wrapped around his trembling body, my hand was laid on the back of his head, and his head was deep into my shoulder. The warmth we both felt was probably the kind that keeps those people in the shanty houses across the road alive. I don't remember how long we stood there, and I probably won't ever, because I don't care. If he wanted to hold on for the rest of the day, I would've let him. I closed my eyes, and smiled, resting my head on his. Not one child took notice, nor turned to look; at the crying boy, or the girl who held him. The girl who saved him, from going home, and ending his life. _________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________ OOC: I was experimenting with some different themes, ideas, and writing styles, and came to write this. I decided to post it here, and see if anyone has any thoughts. The context is a a young girl, watching a boy walk down the hallway of her school, in South Africa. I went to East London a few years ago, and was just thinking about it again recently. I was also inspired by the stories of people who are hurt by the hate of others, and in other tragic stories, driven to suicide. It's an atrocity that must be fought off by all means. An example is this: Never forget to be the light within the darkness Quote Share this post Link to post Share on other sites
SquareSora 133 Posted October 6, 2012 Simply extrordinary, but focus more on the detail and the context of the story. just a little heads up, otherwise it sounds really nice up until this point Quote Share this post Link to post Share on other sites
