my small stranger in tattered shoes // {briar}
Jan 30, 2016 19:49:46 GMT -5
Post by grim. on Jan 30, 2016 19:49:46 GMT -5
LEGION HALE.
look into the eyes of the d r a g o n
do you feel the warmth of his
b r e a t h
do you feel the warmth of his
b r e a t h
His body had become numb to the cold. All that could be felt was the singe of his last cigarette dwindling away in between his fingertips. He had no money to continue running, he was filled with anger and fear of returning home. Three long weeks of laying upon a cobblestone bed had made him feel safe. Home was not where the heart was. With the sound of his shoes scuffing against the dreaded planks of his front porch, he rattled the silver knob of his front door open. He half heatedly hoped for nothing more then silence, but this hope was all too false.
A body aches in pain, it shivers in fear, and it moves in silence. He overhears the shrills of his mother only a few rooms away. Her voice raising, and there was no sign of submission. He hears the steady sobs from a young girl. A girl that shares his blood. He can listen to the soft sniffle of her nose, and the light shuffle of her feet. He had remembered that familiar ringing of his mothers dreaded voice in his ears only a few years ago. That is until he decided to no longer be a member of his own family. He no longer had to deal with the abuse of a venomous mouth, he found relief in the tobacco that filled his lunges, and the howling winds of night.
After a few short moments he hears the steps of the girl begin to come in his direction. He hears the door slam and he drops his head. He didn't want to see her, but more so he didn't want her to look at him. He only glimpses up for a second, and in that second he feels himself crumble. Her face was red with tears, her hair greased and oil covered. Her face covered in dirt, and her shoes torn to pieces. In that moment he remembered the breeze he had use to feel on his toes in his torn shoes, the laugh of the other kids when they got close enough to smell his scent. She and him were one and the same.
When the girl gets closer to him he cant help but drop his dead even lower, he was too shameful to make eye contact. He hears his mother shout the words "JOAN! YOU GET YOUR ASS BACK HERE! I'M NOT DONE YET!" He feels his spine shiver, his heart drop to his stomach and throb just enough to make him want to vomit. His realization that Joan was her name, the name of the child that he had never learned to love. Yet in this moment he had never felt a stronger love for another being. The girl hurries out the door, her little legs pressing to get as far away from this hell as she possibly could. Just as he had only a few years before. Overtaken by fear of staying to long, and seeing the torturous face of his mother, he runs to the kitchen grabbing whatever cash may have been left on the counter, and bolts out the door after the girl.
He felt the need to protect her to be sure that she would not freeze, to be sure that she would not starve. Was this love? Or merely pity for his absence? He was unsure of his actions but blood runs thicker then gold, and he would become her guard.
tar filled the lunges
of the boy who could only inhale
d e a t h, an embrace was for
blood much t h i c k e r
then his.
credit//briar
