Been awhile since an update....here 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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