Recreating The World For Someone Like You

The Napping Of A Kid And An Immortal Goddess

Friday, July 27th, 2015, 7:38 p.m. Lexington, Nebraska

Calum Hood slowed his running pace to a slow jog, his shadow stretching out alongside him in the warm summer air. His chest rose with every deep breath he sucked into his lungs while his music blared loudly into his headphones. Calum slowed completely to an easy walk and wiped the sweat from his face with the bottom of his shirt. Black hair splayed on his forehead, sticking with sweat to his tan skin. He took out his headphones and let them dangle from underneath his shirt while he cooled down and let the summer air deep into his chest with every inhale he took. An uneasy feeling settled into the pit of his stomach and he looked around nonchalantly to not draw any attention to himself. A cat ran from the side of his neighbors house and knocked into the metal trash can, causing the discarded fruit peelings and takeout boxes to spill out over the light grey concrete. Calum stopped in his tracks and regarded the spilt trash with annoyance--and some relief--before sighing and walking briskly over towards it to pick it all up.

"Stupid cat." He swore, scrunching up his nose as he smelt and touched the nasty, vaguely slimy, food. He began humming to himself for a distraction as he continued the dirty work. He lifted his head up to look around once the majority of the garbage was picked up, his brown eyes quickly moving about his general surroundings. The uneasy feeling settled back into his stomach and he pretended to look for the annoying cat while he really searched for something that was out of the ordinary.

The cat, a gangly orange thing known as Pesky Pat (a college student once jokingly said the name and it stuck, much to the annoyance of pretty much everyone), was perched on top of an old red car, its matted fur dirty with old food and grime from God knows where.

"You are a great pain in my arse, you know." He told Pat, picking up the last of the trash and rocking back to sit on his calfs. Pat meowed in response and licked his paws happily, apparently very pleased with himself. Calum wiped his hands on his basketball shorts and stood up, shaking his head at Pat with an amused smile streached accross his lips. As Calum was walking away, a branch snapped in the low trees behind him and he turned quickly, his heart hammering in his chest. Calum searched the tree line to the forest as his neck broke out in a cold sweat and hands became clammy. He stood there silently, watching and waiting for something, anything, to happen in the tree line. The trees cast a shade over Calum that made the back of his neck crawl and he quickly jumped out of it and briskly walked away.

Calum felt comfort in his own shadow, and always had. His earliest memories were of him staring in wonder at the grass around him as his shadow mirrored exactly what he did, and even created games around it. It was usually the same in all shadows, the comfort and happiness, but something about that moment made him want to disappear and run away. Calum continued to walk away, putting his hands on his hips in what he hoped was a casual way. The fingers of his right hand curled slightly over the black pocket knife that he kept on him at all times, the familiarity of it bringing him some peace of mind as his Nike trainers landed softly on the concrete one after the other. His mother never told him where she got it, he just knew that it meant something special to her, and in turn, to himself. It was probably an old grandfather's, Calum once thought.

The sun was disappearing farther and farther down into the line of small houses on the street and Calum continued his brisk walk back home; he was too afraid to run in the chance that he'd need the energy for sprinting later on. Most of his neighbors were elderly couples who turned in pretty early, while the rest were down at the river celebrating the summer weather with cool lemonaids and sparklers; he was all alone out here. Calum gripped his knife harder in his hand and unclasped the clip from his pants so he was holding, closed, in in his fist. He whistled a random tune and turned his head sharply at the flash of blue ducking around the corner of a house, his heart stopping in his chest. No one ever even thinks about stepping out of their shell to be different, he thought shakily, his hand gripping his knife. He clenched his jaw so tight it felt uncomfortable and swallowed past the lump in his throat, his heart beating as fast as hummingbird wings in his chest.