No Words To Say? I'll Give You Mine {Geebs}
Jul 10, 2012 6:42:14 GMT -5
Post by charade on Jul 10, 2012 6:42:14 GMT -5
Sebastian Rothul
"Don't solve the problem,
When danger is bitter.
Far away where you stock them
In cages that tether"
A few days had passed since his presence and leadership had been fully and publicly acknowledged by Zanita, and as he had done every day since then, Sebastian wandered the streets of his district. In retrospect, it wasn't so bad being homeless; at least homeless by most peoples standards. He had a place to rest his head, and he was fairly sure that more than a few adults were aware of the packs activities, though none of them had done anything so far. But then again, there were enough kids in district nine's group homes that no one cared about a few degenerates living on the streets. That didn't bother him, as he had chosen this life, but he often wondered if it ever got to the rest of the outlanders.
Occasionally, beggars of any and all ages could be seen trying to leech out a living from others. Sebastian was above that. He was too proud to beg, and indeed, most of the things he wanted he could find with ease, whether it was food he caught himself, or someone to "dance" with; both of which were in no short supply. However, this particular day he was not wasting time on any form of dalliance or mild distraction. No, he had heard rumors that his old house had a new owner, and he was curious to see what they had done with the place.
In no time at all, he found himself staring at his former abode.The garden path looked more than a bit nicer than it had ever been when he lived there. The lawn was actually neat and tended, tiny red and blue flowers poking up in orderly rows on either side of the stony walkway. A soft wind carried the fragrance to his nostrils, and he wrinkled his nose up in surprise. Where were the mud puddles? The tangles of weeds and patches of dead grass that had dotted is childhood landscape were nowhere to be seen. Gone were the broken bits of shattered glass and the piles of rusting cans.
"And all the bridges you've burned,
Leave you trapped off at all sides.
Now the tables do turn,
And it's all gone, what's left for you."
Leave you trapped off at all sides.
Now the tables do turn,
And it's all gone, what's left for you."
The house itself had a cheery look to it, having been recently painted a bright shade of yellow; a far cry from the cracked and peeling white paint he had expected to see. Neither he nor his father had ever paid much attention to the house's upkeep, though from the few photographs his father kept of his mother, he knew it hadn't always been that way. Sebastian ran his hand along the picket fence as he walked, coming to a stop in front of the gate.
The windows were clean and polished instead of grimy and streaked. Through them, he could see a man seated at the head of a table, as a boy and a girl not much younger than himself sat near. A woman soon appeared bearing a platter of food, which she set down in front of them. The boy made a grab for it , but knocked some of the contents to the ground. Sebastian watched as the man stood, smirking to himself as he waited to see the inevitable doling out of physical violence. But... the man simply handed his son a towel and smiled.
"Sit down, you're sinking,
There's no one to watch you.
Skip town, you're thinking,
There's no one to stop you."
There's no one to watch you.
Skip town, you're thinking,
There's no one to stop you."
Furrowing his brow, Sebastian pondered the significance of the action. Was the man not mad? Feeling at a loss, he withdrew from the gate. That was the same room in which his father had routinely thrown things in anger. Normally directed towards Sebastian. And behind that, the room where...
The scar on his face felt suddenly warm, and he grimaced, plopping himself down on the curb across the road from the house that was no longer his.
"And pocket all the hurt, and just stay..."
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