The Grasp of Hell

Hell

The clouded skies had always affected Jake. He never knew why, but they just had. The clouds were a dark gray and seemed dense. They swirled ever so slightly like they were trying to hypnotize anyone who casted their gaze upon them.

It reminded him of something... or of someone. He could never remember. Memory was never his forte. Swaying in the only rocking chair in a hundred mile radius of his location, Jake casted his eyes over the desert horizon. The wasteland where he lived was always so serene and peaceful on the brew of a storm. The emptiness of the bleak location contributed to the effect of peacefulness for him, which entailed no life anywhere. No cacti, shrubs, nor sand dunes. Jake looked around and realized there wasn't actual sand. Just mud cracks as far as the eye can see. Jake didn't mind though; as long as everything was peaceful, he was okay. It was perfect.

Jake glanced back up at the clouds as the gray puffs swirled and flashes of light and terror appeared throughout the clouds. The sun was nowhere to be seen. He felt a drop of water on his nose, and he wrinkled it in response. Jake didn't mind the rain either; it was calming to him. Showers, he didn't like that much, but light sprinkles are just... perfect. His mother has always said that rain would get him sick, and that he should stay out of the rain.

It's a good thing mother isn't here now.

Jake sat back and smiled at that thought. It was bliss for him.

"Hey Jake." A voice carried through the air. Jake looked over, and smiled like a goof.

"George!" Jake exclaimed, getting up from his chair and greeting his brother with a hug. Jake gestured to a chair next to his and they both sat down. Looking out towards the sunset on a cloudless sky, the brothers reminisced being in each other's presences. Jake hasn't felt like this in forever... yet it oddly felt like he saw his brother recently. Jake shook off the feeling of déjà vu, and turned towards the scenery around him. It was bright and cheerful just like his mood at the moment.

"How are mom and dad doing?" George curiously asked.

"Great! You should see them George, they're so happy. Once you left, they got a little sa-" A clap of lightning flashed in front of Jake's eyes in that instant. During the interval of the sudden, blinding light of lightning, George's face was mutilated beyond recognition. Blood poured from the deep cuts on one of his cheeks, his left eye was swollen shut with a quiver, his hair was all out of whack like it was tugged in various places, and his open eye was filled with fear. It was as though actual fear itself was right there in front of George, and he couldn't do anything about it. Then the image was gone.

"You doing okay J?" George asked, waving his hand in front of Jake's face. Jake swatted his brother's hand away, and smiled. He didn't know why he was smiling, he just saw George's face distorted.

"Of course I'm okay! Got dazed for a second for some reason." Jake vividly remembered the face, but the words came out of his mouth like he wasn't troubled by anything.

"Must've been some of mom's peach tea, you know that stuff just comes out of the sink," George joked. The two boys laughed, but Jake's wasn't genuine. The sound of the laugh was, but Jake's eyes said something else. The haunting image of his brother shocked him, and he wanted to tell George, but couldn't. The words wouldn't come out. There was a pressure in his chest that forced Jake not to talk about that subject.

The grass in the distance rustled in the wind. It was one of the things Jake used to love when he was little. He would go out to the grass, and lie down as the wind passed over him and the green blades tickled his vulnerable skin. An awkward tension hung over the brothers as they both stared at the grass, thinking about their memories together.