Saturday 4 January 2014 photo 1/1
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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’ere, chum?"
Moving his arm to shield his eyes he frowned. He didn’t know. Just like the dream, it kept slipping away from him. His mind was now empty, blank, snow white. "I don’t remember."
The light source shifted and he glanced over his arm. It was a lantern and the person holding it was leaning against a shovel and staring at him with a smirk. "Oh? Yah dun say."
He didn’t know what that was supposed to mean so he watched the person, waiting for something else to be said. The person was short, some people would probably say that the person was chubby. But he thought that it was probably muscle. He didn’t really know why he thought so, it was hard to tell with all the clothes the person was wearing.
The person tilted it’s head and he involuntarily shivered. Dark crimson hair moved, it looked like it was purling down the dark clothed shoulders of it’s owners. Like blood on darkness. "M’Rend, what’s yer name?"
Shaking his head he cleared his throat again. It probably wasn’t as obvious as he thought it was. "I already told you, I don’t remember."
Frowning the person, Rend, scratched his neck and stared for a little while before he spoke again. "Oh, I’ll call ye Ash then."
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’ere, chum?"
Moving his arm to shield his eyes he frowned. He didn’t know. Just like the dream, it kept slipping away from him. His mind was now empty, blank, snow white. "I don’t remember."
The light source shifted and he glanced over his arm. It was a lantern and the person holding it was leaning against a shovel and staring at him with a smirk. "Oh? Yah dun say."
He didn’t know what that was supposed to mean so he watched the person, waiting for something else to be said. The person was short, some people would probably say that the person was chubby. But he thought that it was probably muscle. He didn’t really know why he thought so, it was hard to tell with all the clothes the person was wearing.
The person tilted it’s head and he involuntarily shivered. Dark crimson hair moved, it looked like it was purling down the dark clothed shoulders of it’s owners. Like blood on darkness. "M’Rend, what’s yer name?"
Shaking his head he cleared his throat again. It probably wasn’t as obvious as he thought it was. "I already told you, I don’t remember."
Frowning the person, Rend, scratched his neck and stared for a little while before he spoke again. "Oh, I’ll call ye Ash then."
Annons