lost

Being lost in Mobile was difficult. Finding your way through it's maze-like streets was wearisome. Even those who had lived there their whole lives wouldn't be able to find their way around. Especially if it was night, because then, no one could help you with the dangers you might face. A figure stumbled down a street, one that seemed to go on for miles. His light robin-egg blue eyes scanned around for a sign of a street name. He brushed his russet brown hair out of his eyes as he read the street sign.

"Government Street," he said out loud to himself.

He limped on towards the rundown donut shop. His dark azure colored Vans screeched as he dragged his feet across the sidewalk. The grass tickled at his ankles, brushing against his skin. The grass had drops of rain on them which didn't surprise him. It had been raining ever so often, it was the rainy season after all. He slipped on the grass and his face landed in a puddle of mud.

He cursed under his breath. "This rain will be the death of me."

He stood up and wiped off his face. Eventually, he collapsed onto the dim gray parking lot that was once Krispy Kreme's. Jagged rocks scraped against his skin, which had been exposed by the tears in his jeans. He dragged his bag to the wall, the bottom of it ripped slowly as the friction grinded between the floor and bag. He didn't notice until he had his back against the wall.

"Today is just not my day," he groaned.

He noticed the cracked beige paint on the wall. He traced his fingers around it as each piece came crumbling down. He rolled up the leg of his jeans, exposing his pale skin. A tingly sensation came over him as he felt a rain drop trickle onto his warm skin. He never understood how, but despite his appearance he had the warmest pair of hands and skin that had ever been touched. At least that was what his Aunt Marianne had said. She had been his favorite person, with her funny snort-like laugh and everything. He leaned his head against the wall and slipped off his Yale blue hoodie, revealing the wounds left by his stepfather.

Walt, the boy cringed at the thought of him; his dank breath which gave off the scent of tobacco, his unwashed clothes that reeked of alcohol, his crooked dirty teeth and, worst of all, the way he would abuse his mom and him. He could almost taste the cigarettes by now. The boy shook off the thought of the crazed, hateful man. He let out a deep huff and saw the mist surround him. The previously mild air became brisker as the wind hit the trees with ferocity. The force rustled and shook them until a tree branch fell off and scraped the side of a harlequin pickup truck.

His Spock-like eyebrows were arched. What is that doing here? he wondered. He had seen it before, long ago.

He let out a nuclear-bomb-like sneeze, verifying his allergy of sudden weather change. He could feel the shade of raspberry red coming across his nose, the redness overtook his face as his scattered freckles seemed to become more and more transparent. His hand came to his nose as he wiped the feeling off.

"Ugh, stupid allergies," he muffled through his blocked nose. His voice came out raspy like he was stuck in one of Aunt Marianne's favorite radio talk shows.

He tried to stand up, but his knees had turned into jelly. His ankles felt as if claws were scratching him on. It was the leaves, they were scratching him as they seemed to run away: far, far away. He watched as each different shade of orange flew across his eyes: it looked like they were flying with the wind as if they were birds. It was strange, but he wanted to flee with them. Wherever they were going had to be better than the trap of a town he was in.

Who knew that a person could ever envy a leaf, he laughed to himself. Much less a dying one.

His ears picked up the sound of a door creaking. He stared at it with shock. That wasn't even open a minute ago, he pondered. I must be going crazy.

A street light flickered in the distance, it kept on going on and off again. Soon it was the only source of light in the clear, dark midnight sky, as he moon seemed nowhere to be found. He looked up and wondered how he had ever missed this. How had he ever been so involved in himself, that he never noticed the beauty around him? It was a beautiful night, one that was strangely dry for the rainy season. Then everything went dark as his eyelids closed, shading any possibility of his blue eyes seeing light. His eyes could barely see the light, for it was blocked. As if he were a hungry caged tiger and someone was holding him back. Someone full of fear.