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The Piece of the Puzzle; Winter Contest 03
Topic Started: Jan 16 2006, 02:13 PM (100 Views)
Makokam
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Apostate
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The Piece of the Puzzle

“…You are not alone…”

Night; the period between sunset and sunrise, especially the hours of darkness. Daniel shivered as the slow, eerie moan of rotted lumber carried its cry throughout the hallways of the old residence. It was always this way, every night that was spent alone as his parent feasted with there associates. Little by little, a shaky exhale of hot breath inched from between his hard, cracked lips, slowly roving toward the ceiling as balmy haze.

Ever so slightly, the youth pressed his backbone against the wall as the bitter, feral winds coiled against the sodden woodwork. Daniel ignored the raucous thud of his own fast-beating heart and warily got to his feet, his trembling hands tucked deep beneath cramped, moist armpits. At the base of a particular, burgundy couch a soiled newspaper snapped against the ruthless winds that pinched through the fractured windowpane.

“…Don’t cry. Men don’t cry…”

Hesitant, ebon eyes carefully began to search the cold, dark bedroom, prying into the obscure tell tales of night. He suddenly paused, feeling the thick, hot bile rise into his throat as his eyes moved towards a large shadow creeping behind the entrance. Foolish anxiety slowly coiled its damp, rigid scales around his mind, much like a cottonmouth constricting the breath from its quarry. Fresh, tepid piss traveled along the inside of his leg and continued into the dry, colorless socks at his feet.

“…Why is this happening you ask…?”

Daniel shakily stepped away from the wall as revamped dread scoured his body, each leg outwardly swelling in mass. No longer could he perceive the sound of the rainstorm swill against the shutters but only the deep, heavy thu-thump at his heart. Continuing frontward, the boy gave a start as his toes lightly knocked against a small, wooden brush that’s soft bristles itched at his feet.

It was astonishing how time passed when one was enthralled by the clutch of fear, for a few, terrible minutes could- and would- feel like an eternity. In silence, Daniel slowly made his way toward the old-fashioned, wooden door, carefully trusting the walls with his life.

“…Because it can…”

Swallowing his fear, the boy timidly curled his knuckles around the dull, metal handle until his taut flesh began to lose its tanned hue. The knob was cold and as the warm, tender flesh resentfully greeted its façade, racking chills heaved through his back and constricted his lungs. A pale, ghastly light meandered across the base of the door, just scarcely inflowing at his grey-toed socks before fading from sight.

With a meager yank, he eased the entry from its socket and hardly maintained his poise as he slid through the thin, dark gap. Nothing. Blood-red taper candles, near and far, flickered pathetically against the darkness, faintly casting there ginger tinge onto the old, timber floorboards. Not wasting any time, Daniel lightly secured the door behind him and crouched to the ground, sticking to the wall. The silken moonlight slowly edged across his skin as he moved, silently placing a sturdy foot in front of another and making his way to the staircase.

Bit by bit, he eased toward the stairs, keeping his back to the wall as tense sickness threatened to overwhelm his bowels. Daniel cautiously placed his foot on the first, stilted stair and as the pressure increased the worn timber gave off a hoarse, throaty creak. All was silent and nothing moved. For several slow breaths –thought it felt like ages- Daniel remained silent as his teeth harshly sank into the papillae of his tongue.

The boy felt the warm, sour fluid disperse in his mouth and slither into the crevasses of his dental-roots as he fought back the urge to vomit. At that moment, he felt like crying. All he sought was to crawl into a distinct, lone corner secluded from the dread of unknown fortune, a place where only he and his calming tears could exist. Slowly but surely, a lukewarm bead trickled down his soft, unblemished skin and continued into the corner of his mouth.

“…You fail to understand the difference between reality and reverie…”

It tasted sour yet its salty relish, in some way, soothed his restless mind. Resolute in his decision, Daniel fiercely whipped the moisture from his cheek and shakily rounded his hands into firm, small fists. He would not let this disturbance affect him...he would not. Fear was, indeed, a fascinating idiom for it drew the thin line between cowardice and bravery and yet such are far from parallel.

“…Then again, I could be wrong…”

As Daniel avidly neared the foot of the old staircase, his ears managed to recognize the clunk of apathetic, heavy footsteps through the guttural pound of blood. Sliding his hands beneath his moist pits, the youth wrestled against the anxiety that threatened to consume his mind, as if he were the besieged prey within a falcon’s grasp. Fear. Without a sound, Daniel slid into the long, drawn shadows that ran along the foyer and bent his knees, staying close to the ground.

He paused suddenly, his wide, terrified eyes slowly falling on a large cloaked form slothfully moving across the ornamental, kitchen tiles. It stopped. With hesitancy compared to none other than dread, Daniel attempted to move away but soon found his muscles numb and frozen to the ground, the whole of his body no longer able to be supported by his limbs.

“…Foolish infant! You lack the answer, the key to it all …”

Frightened, Daniel shut his eyes, trying to break away from the world around him. To run, to hide. He couldn’t run away, not any more, no, he had to fight, to press on. Little by little, the boy drew himself from the ground, struggling against nameless might as warm, thick saliva slowly dripped from between his clenched teeth. Fear! Fear was the piece to the puzzle, in fact, it had been all along. The light, the wind, even the storm, it all made sense. He had an idea.

“I’m not afraid,” the boy panted, beating the butte of his hand into the ground. “I’m not afraid!”

Daniel tightly clenched his fists until his nails bit into his flesh. “I’m not afrai---d!”

By and by, the dark, peculiar clout that withdrew his strength soon began to dissipate, slowly dissolving into nonexistence. He was so exhausted. Daniel’s small, young muscles ached with pain not appropriate for his age, ransacking his childish body with a spiteful waver of nausea. A keen, soft smile graced his dry lips as his arms buckled and he collapsed to the hard, cool floor.

“I’m not...afraid...” came a hoarse reply.
THIS is my side, THIS is the demiltarized zone, and THAT is your side.

"Good and Evil" is too complicated. I prefer, "Us and Them".
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Xantarcube: *Throws Makokam down on the bed*

Dalmar: Dalmar runs from no man! ... Bees, on the other hand...

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Join the Dark Side

If you ever wonder what to do in life, ask What Would Jack Bauer Do, because what Jack Bauer would do sure as hell will get things done faster than what Jesus would do.

 
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