The Sound of Snow

Chapter Three: "Dusk"

     Almost a year later...

     A blanket wrapped his shivering shoulders where he leaned over the balcony watching a honey-colored glow from the West beam low through the neighboring houses. Actually I should say he leaned against the balcony; this year's growth spurt had been so short lived I don't know if you could call it a spurt at all. He still couldn't prop his chin on the top of the rail without standing on his toes. But still he watched while the yellow wildflowers sprouting in the sea of concrete closed their vibrant petals, a dense fog hovering over the back-alleys and swallowing his beloved red post box. 

     Dad was in a sour mood today and The Boy's skin still stung where the wedding ring had left a welt on his cheek. But the child's bad day had begun way before he came home to an angry father. It was kicked off by his only friend at school, a kid named Shoma Ushio, ignoring his request to save him a seat with the other boys at lunch. To top it off, his gut tickled queasily with dread watching the dusk creep nearer – nothing but a sign that the worst part of the night was yet to come: the night itself.

     You might think Yukiné's fear of the dark is childish. But trust me, by the age of nine he'd been given a pretty damn good reason for the phobia. 

     The Boy's thin belly shuddered a long and loud rumble. He knew his father liked him to stay small and skinny because it made him feel puny and submissive, like a kid should be to his elders. But he'd love it if Dad just trusted him to obey and allowed him to eat dinner before homework and chores every now and then...

     He missed the days when his father adored everything he did. But when he remembered that it was only at the expense of Big Sis he told himself it was still okay, because he was the one Dad loved, and the way he was treated wasn't half as bad as what she went through. He told himself these things often and tried to be happy for his sister getting to live with Mom. Yet some days he couldn't help but get this mean little voice in his head that wanted to go back to being the safe one while his sister got the short end of the stick...

     As the warmth behind the tree-line panned from vermillion to ochre and the air got nippier, The Boy pulled the blanket closer around him and stepped back inside, locking the doors again and hiding the key under the floor mat so Dad wouldn't know he'd snuck it. Turning round, his shadow on the tatami was lean and tall, almost reaching the opposite wall. With the comforter around his shoulders the silhouette laid across his mess of futon and pillows looked broader, like a king or god in fine robes. The Boy stuck out his arms and tried some different poses, giggling briefly at what a phony image the shadow granted him.

     His shadow was his only friend many evenings like this trapped in his room. They played together often. But even it abandoned him at nightfall.

     Nowadays his room was still the same lonely prison it always was but he'd been granted a few new additions – just enough to keep him sane. Although his father confiscated any family pictures that included Mom and Big Sis, he allowed his son to post a couple drawings and posters. Other than that the kid found one of his favorite past times was playing at how precariously he could balance his growing stack of comics. But the one thing in his room that excited him most was currently his pride and joy: a cheap skate board Dad had found and taught him to ride. He thought it would be cheaper than making his son use public transportation all the time, and The Boy loved the feeling of freedom it gave him. Of course, the board was a full sized one so the little guy grated his knees a few hundred times before he got the hang of it; but he didn't mind. The red and yellow splatter paintwork on its underside was gorgeous, the coolest looking thing he'd ever owned. He always kept the colors facing outward where it leaned against his black dresser.

     But I digress. The Boy was nauseous from hunger. It had been several hours since he got home from school and was banished here. It should be safe to ask now, right? Muffled voices and noises that sounded like Dad's favorite sit-com droned through the thin walls, so he decided to shoot his shot. With his heart in his throat he crept down the hall, following the sounds of the TV until he reached the opening to the cluttered den. Hugging the corner of the wall, he peeked his head around to see the TV screen. Dad had his feet propped on the coffee table littered with beer cans and made no sign of noticing his son. But The Boy knew he saw him.