Tuesday, 23 July 2013

The Child

Been awhile since an is an excerpt from another of my "limbo shards" short stories

The Child
He had ran, mainly because he was terrified of the men in their dark suits and dark glasses. He had had no choice he watched them as they killed his father and his mother had pushed him forwards shouting “run!! Just run!!” so he had. Then the pain hit him like a punch in the side of the head and everything had gone black. When he opened his eyes everything had gone white…brilliant white however he noticed that it didn’t sting his eyes odd he thought. He felt the side of his head and his hand came away sticky he looked at his fingers. Blood oozed between his fingers the crimson seemed to stain the clinical whiteness that surrounded him. His head hurt he tried to stand and his head swam sinking to his knees he vomited violently regurgitating his lunch of fish fingers and the custard he had for dessert. The vomit was a brilliant yellow on the white sand. He sank back to his haunches panting vomit smell in his nostrils and drying on his t-shirt. He began to cry tears sliding down his cheeks mingling with dried blood and vomit and splatting on the white sand below. Huge wracking sobs shook his body as his small frame his brown hair covered in blood on the left side of his head cracked as new blood started to ooze from the wound below due to the pressure in his head. Slowly after what seemed like forever he finally began to stop he had nothing left he was spent he curled up into a ball and slept hugging his legs up under him his pyjama bottoms covered in fine white sand and he slept how only the young can when they are spent. He awoke a few hours’ later head pounding, mouth dry and stomach cramping he tried getting to his feet. This time he succeeded a wave of nausea hit him but it passed and he stood there looking around him for the first time. Endless white all around him no sun no clouds just white. It stretched out before him like god himself had duluxed the world because colour was too much hassle and would have clashed with the furniture anyway. He had never been in scouts, an ill fated trip to the boys brigade was as close as he had come to that sort of thing and that had ended when he had got thrown down hard by one of the older boys playing wwf (he had been hulk Hogan but he wanted to be the undertaker) his mom hadn’t let him go back then. His mom where was she? He didn’t know he started to well up again but his stomach decided to remind him that crying was not going to feed him. He gulped down air to strangle the sobs. He decided that any direction was a start so he began walking forward.  

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