Old Short Stories

story parts I won't bother to finish

He was sure those badly drawn finger guns held the explanation for all of mankind’s suffering somewhere in there.

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The entire existance was dark. A deep, vast void that had no beginning, middle, or seeming, end. But, nonetheless, they were fine. They wandered forward. Unsure if they even had eyes, or if the could see, the just marched on.

A white speck became visable in the thick, suffocatsuffocating darkness.

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He let out a soft sigh, and brushed his, once dyed but now faded, hair out of his face. Letting his mind drift blindly as he stared into what seemed like an endless abyss.

  It wasn't, he was looking at the sky. The time was evening, giving was to night. The sunset was beautiful, some might say. He just saw the end of another wasted day.

  His hands itched to fidget with something, anything. And his mind switched focus to that. Successfully making him increasingly uncomfortable. He dropped his head slightly, and the hair returned to where it had been.

  He needed to fidget with something. So, the hem of his sleeve would do.

  Boy, everything he did ended in disaster, didn't it?

  His sleeved moved up just a little to far at just the wrong time. Once bright, kind eyes that had been reduced to a lifeless grey met with the, almost mocking, mark on his wrist.

  It was colourful. A mix of greens, blues, yellows, reds, and oranges. Maybe a small bit of pink and purple too. A whole rainbow, slapped on his wrist. That was his mark! His soulmate would have the same one, and that person must be absolutely amazing to gift him a mark this beautiful.

  He smiled at it, and traced his thumb over the boat at sea it painted.

  Soul Marks were weird. Some were ratger simple, like a square or circle of one colour, some were extremely detailed. Like a painting of a city, with fourty-six shades of pink alone. Whatever they were, they could never be recreated, and only you amd your soulmate had them. They were amazing.

  His was a boat at sea, with the sun beginning to fall. It made him smile.

  He was never the eager type, showing it off to everyone and insiting to see theirs, he would be patient, calm, collected and wait for his soulmate, his perfect one, to make an entrance to his life. An entrance he would never forget.

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He was the type of person who pushed down their feelings. His didn't matter, everyone else's came first.

People would often call him rude and selfish, but people who knew him had given them the reason of not knowing who he is, and only seeing the cold exterior he portrayed to the world in a manner of self defense.

Which, okay, yeah, maybe, but maybe they were right.

Often times his self-destructive ways caused more harm than good!

Like, for example, it doesn't hurt to starve himself, and therefore, it's not uncommon for him to simply forget to eat while making sure his friends were healthy. He'd skipped two days worth of meals before remembering the last time he'd eaten one time.

Don't even think of his sleeping habits, schedule, and mannerisms.. those were a raging dumpster fire in and of themself!

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A soft smile was plastered on his face as he clambered aboard the semi-filled bus. He glanced around, before seeing the cute boy that was always sitting in the fourth row back, in the window seat. He'd only been on this bus for about two weeks, but everyday that boy was there.

  He slipped through the walkway, and sat down next to the other. He had hazel eyes, a purple hoodie, and a soft figure. He was perfect. But the response to him sitting wasn't so much as a flinch from the boy next to him, who kept staring out the window.

  Butterflies and doubt began to build up as he cleared his throat.

Nothing.

He tried again, same tactic, little louder,, same response.

With a sigh he just went for it.

He turned to face the other- who jumped a bit in surprise and spun to face him- and said; "Uh hi, I've noticed you always ride this bus? Anyway, my name's Peter, and uh, I'd like to get to know you..?" He held out a hand.

The other boy looked at him with wide, doe eyes and said "you shouldn't see me."

His face shifted into confusion "heh, what?"

The other boy reached out his hand, seemingly with the intent to take Peter's, and maintained eyes contact.

"You." His hand was closer.

"Don't." Almost there,, why was he so slow? It didn't matter. He was perfect.

"See. " No movement.

"Me. " The boy's hand went through Peter's with a swift move and his eyes went wide.

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Hope you enjoyed around 800 words of stories I won't finish.