June
Thursday 2 January 2014 photo 1/1
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Poked at it…and added. Wha'cha think?
His cheek got wet. Looking up at the white sky he touched his cheek. It was raining. He let out a sigh, breaking the deep silence, his breath turning to mist in the cold air.
Shivering he looked down at his wet hand. More rain fell on his head and on the ground. Making crimson patterns on top of the snow white ground.
It was over.
Gasping he sat up, a dream, just a dream. Still, though, he couldn’t breath. Wheezing, not able to take a breath he frantically looked around. He was alone, like in the dream that was quickly fading. He couldn’t remember it. Not at all. Nothing.
Finally able to pull a shaking breath out of his feeble lungs he coughed and spit black muck out into his hand. He sneezed and wanted to rub his nose but he couldn’t. His hands were full.
Wiping the muck onto the already dirty pants covering his legs he rubbed his nose with the back of his hand. He was full of ash. He shouldn’t be able to see it in the darkness, but he did. He could taste it too.
The clothes he was wearing were filthy and dusty, stained black from the ash and mud. He was wet too, because of the dewy grass. He didn’t mind though.
Touching the fabric of the clothes gently and trying to clear his throat from the muck still bothering him he almost bit his tongue clean of when a blinding light hit his eyes. "Oi, wha’cha doin’ here, chum?"
Shivering he looked down at his wet hand. More rain fell on his head and on the ground. Making crimson patterns on top of the snow white ground.
It was over.
Gasping he sat up, a dream, just a dream. Still, though, he couldn’t breath. Wheezing, not able to take a breath he frantically looked around. He was alone, like in the dream that was quickly fading. He couldn’t remember it. Not at all. Nothing.
Finally able to pull a shaking breath out of his feeble lungs he coughed and spit black muck out into his hand. He sneezed and wanted to rub his nose but he couldn’t. His hands were full.
Wiping the muck onto the already dirty pants covering his legs he rubbed his nose with the back of his hand. He was full of ash. He shouldn’t be able to see it in the darkness, but he did. He could taste it too.
The clothes he was wearing were filthy and dusty, stained black from the ash and mud. He was wet too, because of the dewy grass. He didn’t mind though.
Touching the fabric of the clothes gently and trying to clear his throat from the muck still bothering him he almost bit his tongue clean of when a blinding light hit his eyes. "Oi, wha’cha doin’ here, chum?"
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