He sharpened the edge of his knife with great intensity; portraying his rage in tiny sparks of rock over steel, "Easy there, young man" came a second voice, much older, a voice that's been scolding him for various reasons in the past 48 hours. The boy ignored him and continued to aggressively sharpen the knife, the sparks intensified around the blade, and with a warning tone the older man spoke again "Aeron," Looking through his bangs, Aeron finally asked, "Why?" his grip on the knife tightened, much like his defense. He smiled, "Because the poor knife never did anything to you" The boy huffed, "If I don't sharpen that blade I don't think I can do anything" He chuckled, eased his grip on the handle, and dropped it on the ground. They both knew sharpening the knife has nothing to do with it, but the second voice went along anyway, "Well, there are always other knives, different kinds and colors, does it always have to be this one?" He grabbed said knife from the ground, the handle was worn out, the blade was a little rusty, but it did the job, barely, but still did. He never understood why the boy was so hellbent on keeping it despite his attempts of getting him a new one. Sensing his thoughts the boy clarified, "My little sister gave it to me;" he took a deep breath before continuing, "It's all I have of her" he tossed the stone in his hands over, over, and over in his hand "It's my past, my present, and my future.." he stroked his finger over the rock "It's the truth"
"The truth?"
"I'm her brother, she's my sister" toss, "My wisp, my anchor, and my everything"
YOU ARE READING
What Comes After
General Fiction"I'm her brother, she's my sister" toss, "My wisp, my anchor, and my everything"
