Thirteen-years-old, Connor Wolfhard, a considerate and magnanimous teen, trying to cope with the enslaved power of a merciless creature. With the abidance of detest, deep-rooted for his contentious mother, and intricate in an explosive concocted sto...
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Will you miss Connor?
C O N N O R
It was the kind of day even a feather would fall without drifting one way or the other. The surrounding was silent and the leaves were dangling as if they had been painted there. It made me feel calmer, as I could sit, unwind my mind, and let my thoughts flow.
The mysterious book was old and heavy. Its leather felt soft and delicate when held to my hands. I bit my lip, wondering what must have been written inside it as my thumb ran across the gilded cover.
Wiping the small amount of dust-stained upon the book, I fingered the gold lettering carefully resulting in to indicate, Swings And Roundabouts Of Reminiscences. Inquisitiveness rushed through my veins the very instant, as the title felt conspicuous to my eyes, and a caressing sound suggested noteworthy.
Once again, I ran my fingers through the cover, my mind was absorbing the title curiously as well as filled with uncertainty.
As soon as I made an effort in opening the cover, the paper rustled, spreading the warm and dusty smell, like the inside of an attic. The fragile old pages became almost blurry to my vision, the moment, my sight caught the tea-stained on the first page. Breathing in, I turned the page as there was nothing useful to be read besides seeing the tea.
My eyes grew wide. The depiction of the two teenagers was stuck to the page. A girl had a wide smile on her lips as if it was hard to be wiped off her face. A guy, who looked to be a bit older than her in height was holding a red rose. Both of their resemblances were colored black, along with the illustration of the background in glamorous red and orange colors like that of twilight.
With a flurry of black ink, the poetic lines tumbled down the page.
Once upon a time, we were more than best friends. Just look above at our brightened faces. I wish things could go back to the way they were, I have got it good here but I miss how things used to be between us.
It appears to be a kind of love anecdote.
I let the second page come into view. I frowned, having a quite hard time to understand the illustration of the picture.
A hand raised upward to the sky, struggling to catch the light coming through it but the more it was raised, the far the light was running, as if it had almost faded at the end. It took me a while to understand it, however, I ultimately did. It meant - they were abandoned to the gloom and darkness. One of them was unable to intercept the light and the other failed to procure their light.
The depiction manifestly demonstrated distress and abject sorrow. It was not like happy teenagers as previously.
You left me in that darkness where I never belonged.
