Post by Winston on Nov 10, 2005 22:43:24 GMT -5
A story I wrote for a contest on another board, I figured Id post it here. Comment as you like.
Arrows of snow fell in the quiet town of Docket. That weekend, however, one boy fell along with them. Trees surrounded the area, covered with a blanket of white. The gathering stood out in the brightest of snow, all wearing black, all huddling together.
One by one they stood by the coffin and spoke to the deceased, whether it was out of grief, or for closure. The only ones who did not say goodbye were three little boys standing off to the side. They were silent, faces looking downward. The snow under them was wet, tears dropping from reddened eyes.
Winter was a dangerous time of year in the mountainous town of Docket. With beasts made of earth reaching out around the town, and the spaces between them cut by swords of rushing water, parents kept their children within the town boundaries.
Those four boys, however, loved to play along the mountains and over the bridges which stretched the gaps between. They called themselves the Avengers, after seeing one too many Saturday morning cartoons. Running around, playing games, death teetered on every edge, and danger loomed around every tree.
It was a Sunday morning like any other. Church let out and Mrs. Thompson hurried to take her famous pies out of the oven to cool. Tammy Pritchard walked the dogs of the town, all four of them. Mr. Erickson continued building the shed in his backyard for his tools and the riding tractor he planned to buy. And beyond all this bustling, four boys ran up the mountains and found their favorite clearing where they began a game of tag.
Normally the rules stated that they had to stay within the clearing, or they would be called out of bounds, and made “it.” This changed, however, as soon as little Nick Reese was cornered at the mouth of a bridge. He ran, without thinking, onto it, and away from Ricky Charles. Ricky knew the rules, but chased Nick anyway, determined to tag him. When his open hand reached Nick’s back, though, he tagged him hard, and Nick slipped over the rope bannister and fell. Like slow motion, Ricky watched as Nick fell and fell, and fell, his eyes wide and mouth screaming, leaving a fog trail above him.
Ricky looked up from the snow and stared at the coffin as people spoke to Nick as if he was gone. But Nick couldn’t be gone, he thought, because he had just played tag with him yesterday. Nick couldn’t be dead, only old people die.
Ricky could not believe it. He spun around and ran as fast as he could. Victor and Natalie, his parents, ran after him. Bursting through the snow, he ran until he had nothing left and fell in a heap onto the cold, white pillow beneath him. His parents gathered around him as he cried into the snow, his lips becoming wet and sticky and his throat getting hoarse from screaming.
Winter was a dangerous time of year in the quiet town of Docket, and a time of mourning from then on.
Arrows of snow fell in the quiet town of Docket. That weekend, however, one boy fell along with them. Trees surrounded the area, covered with a blanket of white. The gathering stood out in the brightest of snow, all wearing black, all huddling together.
One by one they stood by the coffin and spoke to the deceased, whether it was out of grief, or for closure. The only ones who did not say goodbye were three little boys standing off to the side. They were silent, faces looking downward. The snow under them was wet, tears dropping from reddened eyes.
Winter was a dangerous time of year in the mountainous town of Docket. With beasts made of earth reaching out around the town, and the spaces between them cut by swords of rushing water, parents kept their children within the town boundaries.
Those four boys, however, loved to play along the mountains and over the bridges which stretched the gaps between. They called themselves the Avengers, after seeing one too many Saturday morning cartoons. Running around, playing games, death teetered on every edge, and danger loomed around every tree.
It was a Sunday morning like any other. Church let out and Mrs. Thompson hurried to take her famous pies out of the oven to cool. Tammy Pritchard walked the dogs of the town, all four of them. Mr. Erickson continued building the shed in his backyard for his tools and the riding tractor he planned to buy. And beyond all this bustling, four boys ran up the mountains and found their favorite clearing where they began a game of tag.
Normally the rules stated that they had to stay within the clearing, or they would be called out of bounds, and made “it.” This changed, however, as soon as little Nick Reese was cornered at the mouth of a bridge. He ran, without thinking, onto it, and away from Ricky Charles. Ricky knew the rules, but chased Nick anyway, determined to tag him. When his open hand reached Nick’s back, though, he tagged him hard, and Nick slipped over the rope bannister and fell. Like slow motion, Ricky watched as Nick fell and fell, and fell, his eyes wide and mouth screaming, leaving a fog trail above him.
Ricky looked up from the snow and stared at the coffin as people spoke to Nick as if he was gone. But Nick couldn’t be gone, he thought, because he had just played tag with him yesterday. Nick couldn’t be dead, only old people die.
Ricky could not believe it. He spun around and ran as fast as he could. Victor and Natalie, his parents, ran after him. Bursting through the snow, he ran until he had nothing left and fell in a heap onto the cold, white pillow beneath him. His parents gathered around him as he cried into the snow, his lips becoming wet and sticky and his throat getting hoarse from screaming.
Winter was a dangerous time of year in the quiet town of Docket, and a time of mourning from then on.