no longer the lost no longer the same {Puppy}

Pine Oak

Eyes peered through cracked kitchen windows. Water rushed down the glass dripping relentlessly onto the ground below. Leaves fell from the trees, and whatever remained slowly started changing colors. But the world was a colorless place. Gray clouds coated the sky. Low rumbles of thunder mixed with the howling wind. Not a single soul ventured through the part of the district Pine could see. Why would they when the rain came pouring down? Summer was over, and winter was quickly coming, but it wasn't coming fast enough.

A heavy sigh left his chest, and his breath fogged the window for only a second before vanishing in the heavy gusts of wind.

He was given a second chance at life. A second chance to prove he was worth something, but all he had done since the dreadful day was drink until he passed out. Not enough alcoholic beverages existed, and putting them on top of the toxic cigars, Pine had nothing. His lungs burned, his stomach ached, yet he punished himself on a daily basis. Questions lingered in the back of his mind, but now he didn't have the chance to ask them. It wouldn't matter if he asked them anyway because the dead couldn't talk.

Maybe that was the purpose of life. Losing his hand had cost him a lot. He lost his job along with everything he loved, but right now it wasn't the pain that kept him awake at night. Every time Pine closed his eyes, all he could see was the face of a man he didn't know staring back at him.

Never once in his wildest dreams did he imagine a stranger saving him.

But what was in the past was done. Finished. The words etched into stone, and nothing would change it. Perhaps that was why a broken heart clawed at his chest, but Pine would never know.

Shaky fingers wrapped around the knife lying on the table in front of him. Many holes decorated the wooden surface. Pine spent a lot of time pounding away at the table. In a way, it eased the anger when it boiled beneath his skin, and sometimes it gave him a way to take out his frustrations - what did the poor, innocent table do to deserve such a fate? It held the food, and it only stood in place. It was just an innocent bystander in the way of rage and fury. A shame, really, however, Pine wasn't about to go somewhere else.

The house shook, glass rattled all because of the storm passing by, but the storm raging through a fragile body wouldn't pass so easy. It had a hold of him, following him around everywhere he went. A cloud hovered over top his head, and even then Pine didn't know where to turn or what to do. Seeking advice from Iris was out of the question since she was beneath the ground where he belonged. He called her brave, but maybe she was just as foolish as the stranger who saved him.

Why would anyone do that?

Lifting the knife, he slammed the blade into the table. Wood splintered, and a new hole formed before his eyes, but the blade wedged deep within. He let out a sigh before trying to remove the blade, but the only way to remove it would probably end bad. With only one hand, he didn't have the leverage he needed. That was okay, though, since the knife was best stuck there than in the hand of a fragile boy.

Perhaps the storm would pass one day, and the world would become the beautiful place Pine knew.