BRANCE + RINNEY

memories in wisps of smoke

The woman trapped him between her arms, cradled him through the sounds of his crying. His body shook, hands pulling at the seams of the woman's shirt as she sang quietly. The tears on his face made his skin itch, his stomach churning as the woman ignored his attempts to free himself.

There was a repeated knock on the door, incoherent yelling sounded on the other side. The woman continued to cradle him, her voice calm and overly soothing. It was as if she was drugging him, lulling him into an unconscious state of mind. He could feel his eyes slip closed, the hands around him leaving and the squeaking of a door distantly.

The yelling was louder then, the noise burning into his ears even as he slept. Maybe if he had fought harder to leave the woman's arms,

The stars wept with him as he shoved his face in his hands, his tears leaking through the spaces of his hands. His skin ran cold as he sat on the roof of his home, his knees numb against his chest.

The world looked small from where he sat, the cars buzzing by nothing but small figurines that could be sat on a shelf. The crickets quieted just for him, pitying the boy's grief of his mother. The wind blew through his hair as he sniffled, taking the place of his mother's hands.

He couldn't understand how someone so caring could lose to someone so evil.

Terrance Blake was the epitome of evil. So unlike his mother. Maybe that's why.

Finney Blake mourned his mother, a flower that couldn't blossom in the shadows of a thunderstorm. He hated Terrance, the blood on his hands a showcase of avenging the dead.