avian mistake (tomtord)

trauma, again

the early bright sun shed in neat stripes through the blinds that covered the windows. tord shifted in his bed, arching his back in an attempt to crack it. he rolled of the side, landing on his feet. 

time to go, he thought. at the maximum, he stayed at motels for four days. there wasnt really much to do other than listen to music or clean his wings. also, there was always the burning feeling of a scientist lingering. he never stayed in the same place long. being captured once traumatized him. since he did not bring any belongings, he just up and left. he walked out the door into the dark, purple saturated hallways, and found his way out. the same lady from yesterday was there. she was slumped over the desk, her head shoved between her folded arms. she was sleeping. thats how you know the moon motel hired some good workers.

tord left his keys in front of her and took a yellow sticky note from a neat pile and a blue pen from her desk. he left it saying

thank you!

and rushed out the door. he looked out on the empty highway and made sure no cars were heading his way, giving a chance for someone to witness him sneak behind the building and record it as something sketchy. after the coast was clear, he retreated to the back of the building, stretched out his wings, sixteen feet to be exact, shook them off a little bit and took a running start. about three yards later he was airbourne, flapping his wings, increasing the length between himself and the ground. once he was at a steady level, he began to glide, angling his body horizantally, and keeping his wings still. he was maybe forty meters off the ground. the breeze refreshed the hot summer air, and it felt nice flowing between his feathers. there were times flying wasnt so bad, morely the times where he wasnt being chased. he observed the land below. the dry field behind the moon motel became a forest of dark green pine trees. he began losing altitude, so he forced his wings down and up until he was back to forty meters. 

in the distance, a small town came into view. he saw a narrow strip of little shoppes and restaurants, surrounding it were houses ranging from old victorians to old southern homes. the houses became more spread out the farther out the town became. he decided to make a stop there. in his leisure time he would check out towns he would come across on his journeys, or make stops there while on the run. this was one of those times. 

he slowly began to angle himself downward, trying to make a calm stop. nearing the ground, he pointed himself upwards and kept his wings facing the ground. he landed safely. tord stretched his back after folding his wings into his back. he strolled from behind a vintage looking army green building onto a side walk. the town was somewhat full of life. there were people here and there, in the stores or passing by on the sidewalk. an occasional car would drive by on the cement road. 

he looked into the shoppes he walked by with his hands shoved in his pockets. there was a bakery that displayed cherry and apple pies in the windows. the smell of fresh goods filled the air, but tord was not interested. he just smiled at the man behind the counter, who waved back at him. the next store was a thrift store, with signs on the windows about what they accepted and their opening hours.

he saw a boy, his age walked in his direction, making tord stop dead in his tracks. he stared at this boy, as the boy did the same. there was something about this boy that was just so familiar. and scary. tord steadied himself against the wall of the thrift shop. he tried to peel his eyes off the boy, but temptation prevented him.

the boy was wearing white. a long sleeved white shirt, just like the ones the rest of the men who wanted to kidnap tord wore.

tord shoved himself in the corner of the room, curling into a ball. everything hurt. the dark prevented him from identifying his attacker. tord cried while holding his head in his hands. the unknown man approached him, tord only being able to see slight facial features and the white shirt. he kneeled down next to tord as tord pushed himself as far into the corner as possible. the cold breezeblock wall felt good on his bruises and gashes.

"next time," the man whispered, "cooperate."

the he pulled tord up by the collar of his shirt, forcing him to his feet and shoved him out the door into the brightly lit halls that stung at tords eyes.

the next thing tord new he was on the ground, his vision was dizzy and he felt himself grow hot.

the boy was infront of him, not doing anything. just staring.

who was he?