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...1... Shadows in the Dusk
A young man of average height, wearing a heavy black pea coat stands alone in a cemetery. Rows of tombstones, seemingly endless, were lined horizontally throughout the graveyard, all had been aged with time. However, the grave before the young man in the pea coat was aberrant by all means. The color of the tombstone, an argent white that seemed to almost shine in the glare of the sun. He stood a few feet from the grave, his shadow on the other hand reached the base of the headstone. His hair, an aggregate of brown and black values, swayed madly like a plastic bag in a rushed gale of wind. The young man's eyes seemed dull, a low tone of blue and gray. His eyes. Seemingly lifeless orbs that peered into the grave before himself. Clenched tightly in his hands was an amply packed bouquet of flowers, ranging from roses to lilies. He forced his body to take a few steps toward the grave then fell to his knees, the bouquet was slightly released from the tight grasp. Tears. A multitude of clear droplets slid down his pale face, they were a sign of life in his placid eyes. He slowly lifted his arm and extended it toward the tombstone, the bouquet slanted forward and seemed to become an extension of his arm. Words were mumbled behind a choked voice, and then repeated until he could no longer speak. Without warning an eerie force seemed to grasp his wrist and pull down on it, he dropped the bouquet at the base of the headstone. The young man was on his feet promptly, gazing at his arm. What had grabbed his hand? He pondered for a time then returned to his previous thoughts, he held the approaching tears back, he would not submit to his anguish again. To the clouded sky his eyes soared, he couldn't bare the sight of the names on the tombstone, Torroto. Roger and Ann Torroto, his parents, both buried under the same tombstone, Torroto, the name he had know for so long. This name, Torroto seemed to vanish before his eyes after his parents had died. Only two weeks earlier his parents had died in a disastrous train incident, leaving him only with his grandfather. The young man thought about his name, Ilan Torroto. He thought, could it really exist anymore, was he real anymore with no parents and only a grandfather who barely had an ounce of life left in him.
 Dual blader · Fri Nov 16, 2007 @ 01:12am · 1 Comments |
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