The boy slowly tittered back and forth on the abandoned swing set; the old and rusted metal groaned and whistled from misuse. He could feel every slight squeak and bump, his hands gripping the rust covered metal handle in a death grip - transparent hands began to grow blisters, small droplets of blood slowly dripping down the swing in shiny crimson ringlets.
His dull green eyes ghosted over the empty wasteland - the boy had always came here, it was his only safe haven. He lick his dry and chapped lips, his throat constricting with a cough as he dry heaved, nothing but the lining of his stomach spewing out onto the dirt covered ground.
Deciding he's spent long enough here, he hopped off the wooden swing. His feet hit the tiny pebbles that resided in the square that made up the swinging area and sending some flying as he sighed softly; no noise but air left his chapped lips.
Where to now? He would ask himself, the sun shining down on him as the birds sung their songs, seemingly mocking him. Their high pitched song grated on his already sore ears, an aggravated but otherwise resigned huff escaping his lungs.
Though the sun was out, the sky was still grey. It's natural blue color being drowned out by the nasty chemicals that now seemed to stain the sky like ink. London wasn't always like this, so dreary and sad - it use to be beautiful, the nobles would be out sipping their tea and chatting it up with other nobles. But times have changed, afterall; It was a time of war.
He made a move to step forward but hesitated just slightly as a dot of red caught his attention. What was that? He would think to himself, mentally frowning. His eyes watched in slight awe as a red ribbon slowly flew towards him, and he heard a small fragile voice call out.
"My ribbon!"
The voice sounded feminine, and had a slight English accent. He felt like his heart had stopped beating in that moment, and time seemed to slow down. The girl was beautiful, her fair porcelain white skin made her raven coloured hair stand out. But it wasn't this that caught his attention; it was her eyes.
They sparkled like newly cut Amethyst stones, such a bright lavendar color. He's never seen purple eyes before. They were, to simply put it, gorgeous.
She was gorgeous.
He was snapped out of his daze as she turned to look at him, and he fought the itch to turn to see if there was something behind him. To say he was shocked would be an understatement. He was scared. He knew the girl felt frightened, he could see it in her eyes as she froze in place, staring at... him. But not him.
Afterall, he was invisible - so really, to her, she was just staring at floating clothes without a body.
Reality seemed to return as did sound, and the girl snapped out of her daze, a loud scream ripping through her tiny lungs as she turned to run; he knew she would do this. They all did. But for some reason... he did not want her to go.
"Wait!" The boy called out, his hands reaching out, wanting to grasp onto the sleeves of her dress, "Please! Do not run, I will not hurt you!"
That seemed to make the girl pause as she slowly turned to face him, a look of curiosity and fear plastered to her face, "You can talk?" was her first question, which made him chuckle quietly as he took a tentative step forwards. Hoping to not scare her off, she seemed like a frightened rabbit. Which was what she was probably feeling like right now.
"Of course I can talk," he began, his hands worrying with his trousers as he eyed the girl, "Do I frighten you?"
He never knew a girl of her age could look so scared one moment but turn into a soldier the next. He watched as she lost all the fear for him, a look of sadness washing over her face as she realized her error, "No."
Her response gave him pause, and he felt a fluttering in his chest as he moved to stand infront of her. He held out his hand, waiting for her own so that they could introduce themselves.
The girl grinned and eagerly grabbed his hand, which he could tell she was secretly freaking out at. He knew from experience touching something you couldn't very well see was strange and nerve wracking.
"Hello!" The girl chirped merrily, and he wondered how such a perfect girl could exist in a world like this, "My names Anya! What's yours?"
Ah, he guessed he should introduce himself. Giving her hand a firm shake he smiled, even though she couldn't see it, "My name is Millard."
He took a step back, his smile turning into a grin that could match the girls as he said his famous words, "And I..."
"Am the Invisible Boy."
(An old short story I had written a long time ago, and have edited to my writing now.)
