Playground of Bones

Chapter 13

8-year-old Seth was staring at him, smirking. He was on the ground, with the sunbathed grass acting as a cushion. He felt his own hand moving up to wipe his face, smearing the bits of dirt too stubborn to fall off. Then he stood up, the same hight at Seth, and scowled. 

"Come at me, I call a rematch!"

"Don't blame me if I hurt you, I want to be known as the one who won against Matt, not the one who gave him mental scars."

"Shut up." Matt yelled, annoyed, "Do something!"

Seth shot from the place where he was standing, throwing a fake punch before crouching down to sweep a leg at Matt's feet. Matt jumped, avoiding the fall, and landed a few inched in front of Seth, still couching. Matt charged, running over Seth in an imitation of a mad bull. He tackled him, rolling over a few times, and declared a quick victory. 

Seth didn't fight back.

They both stood up, laughing, reaching a mutual agreement that the quick rematch has ended. But something deep down is saying it hasn't.

Infront of Matt's eyes, Seth grew. Taller and stronger, the t-shirt turning into a formal suit, expression no longer playful, but dead serious. Then his vision was taken, dropping him into the already familiar deep darkness. 

Their surroundings also changed. The grass into a concrete floor, the warm sun replaced by cool, still air. The surroundings had no life. It was dead, silent. 

He was lifted by a pair of large hands, gripping his ankles. Then he was swung, thrown as if he weighs no more than a twig, flying farther than humanly possible. He landed in a foreign place, with nothing to feel except for the bar of hardness behind his back. The air was tense, hard to breath in.

And it was becoming hotter, and hotter.

Then he became conscious of where he was.