Ep two: Are you here?

Steam rose up from the tea, the little girl looked at it in disgust, shaking her head and pushing it away for her.

•••••

The man sat on the floor, his body was stiff and rigid. They clutched a brass locket to their chest. The locket made indentations on the hand.

The lavender hadn’t vanished, the smell lingered on his fur.

A ringing came from the foyer, a new neighbour came to say hi. Their dog’s ears perked up, a low growl escaped his throat, the vibration echoed against the flimsy walls. The person knocked a few more times before kicking the door and cursing.

They sighed, turning their head to the pile of stolen produce. Their movements were janky and slow, as they dearly regretted not stealing fewer items. Coming and going from the fridge to the pile was an excruciating task, they took no breaks however, until the fridge was full.

•••••

The girl with obsidian locks twirled her hair, looking out to the school’s gardener. The rose bushes grew outwardly, creating both a nice view and a thorny defence-mechanism. The teacher called on her, she didn’t respond, the teacher called again, she still didn’t respond. The bell rang.

•••••

A small photo frame adorned with golden roses sat upon the floor, the photo had been turned around, only the date showing. 27/4/1817, love you. In her sprawled handwriting. The man faintly remembered brushing against brunette hair, the colour something the man still adored to this day. The sun had come out, its rays of light sprinkled onto the pavement through the clearing clouds like an angel unfolding their wings. The scattering clouds veiled a picture-perfect day of picnics and family photos.

•••••

A girl could be seen clearing out sticks and twigs, putting them into a pile. Anyone passing ignored her or asked where her parents were. “Right here.” An elderly man came out from the forest and stopped them from continuing to question his granddaughter.

••••

The man decided to soak up the sun, he rarely stepped out when it was sunny so it was a surprise to him as well. His movements were unsteady, as though the bones had just appeared in his body.

The park was lively and crowded, things he despised. Families also seemed to think that a Thursday afternoon was the best time to have a family day. A cheerfully coloured (author: I’m Canadian don’t mind the spelling) icecream stand sold balloons with every cone. Balloons bounced with each shake of a child’s wrist. The neon rubber was contrasted poorly with the green of plants and the blue of the sky.

Scattered leaves and wrappers littered the disgustingly grey concrete that plowed through the natural scenery on each side.

A little child sat in a small clearing, she seemed to be around 8 or 9 years old. A comically large pile of sticks sat next to her. Mostly everyone didn’t acknowledge her, only a couple of people bent down to ask her something. They were promptly told off by an older man, most likely in his late 60’s or early 70’s. A shade of brown caught the man’s eye. It was awfully similar to her hair.

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A man with an overcoat watched the child was raven hair, until being drawn away towards a tree. The child turned back to her sticks, one for every ancestor, 2 for every live family member.

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Hello everyone, I hope that you liked the chapter. I know I was gone for quite a while, but I’ll be back to posting enough to keep you guys fed (there’s prolly only one of you) but bye bye and see you later.

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