Pluviophile - Joshler

and then there were none - chapter one

Blurry, that was the only word coursing throughout his head over and over again. His vision was blurry and so were his emotions, making him extremely unaware of his surroundings. To the point of where he was slowly starting to risk his life the longer he was out in the open like this. The rain was pounding against everything that it hit, like a bullet to a steady target. Piercing the ground and splashing after it had hit, like blood once the shot had finally occurred.

He choked on the tears that were rushing down his tan cheeks, mistaking them for rain every once and awhile. The fragile boy could care less that he wasn't wearing a jacket in thirty degree weather. He could care less that the rain was icy cold and was falling so hard that it really did feel like genuine bullets coming in contact with his skin. The only bad part about the situation to him was that they weren't bullets. The pain didn't last long enough for him to be satisfied.

The boy looked down towards his feet, his brown eyes watery thanks to his tears and his curly brown hair sticking to his forehead thanks to the rain. Water was crawling into his shoes and latching itself into his socks, where it would stay and make him uncomfortable thanks to the feeling. He craned his head to look towards the heavy flow of traffic all around him. The bright lights that made him squint his eyes whenever the cars got too close. He was safe for now, walking along the sidewalk. Subconsciously moving closer towards the road the longer he looked towards the seemingly entrancing moving cars.

What would it be like to die? He asked himself this question a lot, never truly finding the answer since he was still here. Still breathing and crying and confusing his tears for the rain falling from the sky. That was the only thing he felt he had in common with the world. They both cried hard sometimes. His feet squished along the pavement as he walked, the sidewalk transitioning to the road as he slowly began to walk onto it. Ignoring the honking of cars as they dodged him. Something in his head was telling him to get off the road. Telling him that he was going to die.

Yet another part of him really didn't care. He came to his senses, his eyes going wide as he heard a loud crash to the right of him. A car had just ran into another from trying to avoid him. should move, he was causing wrecks and it was only a matter of time before- his thoughts were cut short and so was his life as a car came in contact with his body. It was an old 1971 pickup truck, nothing special however it was still enough to drain the life from his body in the snap of a finger. Just the snap of a finger and he was gone. Taken from the world at the age of sixteen. Blackness surrounding his vision for a few moments, his eyes opening to find himself in a never ending room of white. He was in the longest line he had ever witnessed. There were people moaning in distress, crying and breaking down all before him. Sheets of paper in their hand and a lady that looked the size of an ant due to how far away she was standing towards the front of the line. He was on the waitlist for heaven and hell, and who knows where he'll end up?

[ 603 words ]