Marbelo

1

He is different from me. His skin is white, pure white. Like snow. His hair long and in layers to his shoulders. Bangs sweeping into his face, all clear almost like fishing line. I wonder if its soft?

His kind is tall...extremely tall. He makes me look like a damn midget. I peer closer to the glass hoping to make out his facial features.

They locked them in there like cattle. He was the only child left after the massacre of his species. They landed, then a full blown war. The remaining survivors were rounded up and locked behind bolted steel doors. The glass window installed for outsiders to peer in, show hate. How can you hate something, let alone someone you barely know? His name? Prisoner 458-5698-11.

No one knows their real names considering they didn't have the courtesy to even ask. People refer to them as demons or no souls. I pass by the prison everyday on the way to and from school. They seem so harmless. Always just staring at the walls, while some others play chess.

He draws, his hands always tinted black from the charcoal they let him draw with. Rumors from the guards say he never sleeps. He just sits there and draws constantly.

I look back at the road and see the highway has cleared some. Thunder cracks. Damn it's going to rain soon.

I sneak one more glance through the glass and he is no longer at his table. My breath sucks in when all I can make out is part of a torso blocking my view. I slowly start to look up when I see him standing there in front of me. His hand placed against the glass. I stare at his hand in shock, the palm was about the size of my head, his fingers long and covered in black.

I make my way up to his face. His eyes covered by his bangs. His cheek bones, well what I can make out, are high. The jawline, just damn.

My head tilts to the side. I wonder what made him come up to the glass? I watch his head tilt like mine, his bangs swaying to the side revealing one eye. I freeze unsure what to do next.

I hesitate before walking away leaving him at the glass. I walk fast back to my house, my breathing in spurts. His eye, it was pure black. No sign of a pupil or even a color. Just blackness!

I make it home before the rain falls. The smell of pork roast fills my nose. Molli must be cooking. I hear a crash and the sound of glass hitting the tile floor. "What was that?" I ask walking towards the living room.

My twin brothers stand staring at the broken mirror that lays on the ground. That's the fourth one this month. "He did it!" Samuel screams pointing at Dean. They are so childish.

"Sammy you're twenty three years old, stop doing the blame game." I laugh taking a seat on the couch. "Stop calling me Sammy or I will start calling you Poppy again." he grunts.

"Hi Apopka." Dean says with an awkward wave.

"Hello Dean. How much bad luck do you have now, four hundred?" I ask with a little chuckle.

"Oh very funny Poppy, help me clean this shit up." he demands.

"Um no. Your mess, not mine. Make sure you actually clean it up this time and not leave it to Molli. Father was so livid he almost fired her last time." I sigh picking up my backpack and heading to my room.

Walking over to my laptop I hook up my camera and download the pictures. My many hobbies include writing for the schools newspaper and taking pictures for it. If it wasn't for me, the school paper would be dead.

I look at the many pictures I took of him. He is intensely staring at the drawing he's doing, almost debating what to draw next. I wonder what they do with his drawings once he's done with them. Probably throw them out, no one appreciates them. Yet there is no harm in asking what they do with them.