Evolution (Completed) ✔

4: Pin curls

It was snowing. The white flakes drifted down from the sky and into Miles' dry mouth. The flakes made his mouth drier and he could feel each surge of blood that ran through the cracks in his lips. His tongue cried, it lolling out of his mouth covered in dust and plaster. Eyes half closed, the blurry flakes sizzled on his burning skin. He gasped, opening his eyes and mouth to attempt catching a snowflake on his tongue.

Ashes.

They were ashes raining from the sky.

He sputtered and tried to spit them out, they kept coming, relentlessly choking him. He couldn't escape the heaps and heaps of ashes from the dead bodies and burning houses. He needed a shovel or a spoon or something to pry himself free. The grass below him felt like sandpaper and above him the ashes were tiny stars in the sky.

" Tyrell? Bexley?" From his throat came a pathetic attempt at a yell. No wonder there was no answer.

He tried again, a little louder this time

" Ty? Bex?!"

Something moved beside him and a plush object kicked at his side. A purple sock, attached to a bloody leg twitched beside him. Miles moved his head to the side and saw the torn up shoe, it  tiny enough to be a kid's shoe.

" Wow, thanks." Sure enough, through the darkness Miles caught the glimpse of dusty, teal hair.

" Did I say that out loud?" It didn't feel like he was talking,  he could hear himself in his head.

" That my shoes look like kid's shoes? Yeah." Sarcasm dripped from her words, her voice sounded so close by.

Miles moved his arms out to the sides like he was making a snow angel. It felt like he was swimming. He flipped on his stomach and used his arms to swim over to his friend. His bare stomach almost melted to the ground through the tatters in his shirt. It must have gotten caught on something, but what?

He got closer to her and a goofy smile broke out on his face, they were okay.

" Bexley? Bexley?"

He shook her limp shoulder.  There a gash on her cheek looked like razor tear track. Glass poked out of her hand, from a limp arm splayed out by her head.

Miles looked around them, observing where they lay. A couple meters to his right there were chipped, red bricks. Finally, Miles looked up. He could see straight into Tyrell's room, where the window had once been there now was a gaping hole. Pipes and shingles from the roof entwined like jungle vines. He could see right through the stairwell and into the kitchen, tears pricked at his eyes.

He shook Bexley's  shoulder, pushing her hair out of her face. Numbness crept up from his legs and into his torso, so did a sickening panic.

" Tyrell?!" He shouted into the starless sky.

Miles stared helplessly down at his friend before shoving his fingers into her neck. Sure enough, a steady pulse thumped against his fingertips. He let out the breath he was holding, she was just knocked out.

The overbearing smell of sulfur and burning paper wafted through the breeze. The wind ruffled the lifeless grass and the drenched hair on Miles' forehead. He could hardly feel the sweat that dripped down his face, every part of his body tingled. He flopped on to his back and looked up at the destroyed house. A light bulb hung by a string, twirling in circles from the ceiling. Nothing else moved around him except the light bulb and the raining ash.

Then, Bexley began to cough beside him. He hunched over her, holding her head up as she choked and sputtered. Her eyes fluttered open half way and her hand made its way to her hair. Plaster crumbled between her fingers, she groaned and threw it over Miles' shoulder.