Truth be told

1

... Truth is I don't know how to start this narrative. I could choose the cliché 'waking up' trope, but unless you're rewriting Sleeping Beauty, waking up is rarely challenging or dramatic. I suppose I could start by talking about myself (Lord knows that's more interesting.) My name is Hudson. Samuel Hudson. I'd love to be able to say that I'm an entrepreneur and a philanthropist, but regrettably I'd be greasing this manila with thick falsifications. I'm, simply put, a burgeoning young man living in some unforgiving, raucous and discordant times. I will be recording each day for the amusement of future generations, for I have diminishing hope that our way of living will inevitably lead to some sort of change or resolution.

You see, I am not of any noble or significant class. I am not a special person with any unique talents or the likes that all protagonists seem to bury within themselves, only to inevitably uncover it from within during their lowest moments. I stated before, this story is not a cliché, and I stand to that statement. And with all this said, I can move swiftly on with my day and slowly begin my journey to fill this notebook with events from my average life, retelling the stories, day to day, like a novel.

December 22nd -

Today was incredibly, indisputably and indefinitely cold. I clasped a cold flask between my hands even though the warmth from the tea has long since leached into the frozen air. My muscles were clenched tight against the cold. If, by chance, a pack of wild dogs were to appear at this moment, the odds of scaling a tree before they attacked are not in my favour. I should get up, move around, and work the stiffness from my limbs. The biting chill buffeted my spongy cheeks as I lumbered down the iced street, towards the boarded up establishment on the corner of the smog coated road. Even in this harsh weather, every worker was hard at work. In this climate, even the most minute of actions seemed as laborious as climbing a mountain. I endeavoured to push the stiffened door of the building, as thin frost scattered itself from the door's notches.

There stood a boy. He had the kind of face that stopped you in your tracks. I guess he must get used to that, the sudden pause in a person's natural expression when they looked his way followed by overcompensating with a nonchalant gaze and a weak smile. I ambled towards him. As I drew closer, I began to notice the finer details which graced his character. His freckles like puddle spittle on old leather boots and then his eyes- they were deep and catastrophic, a vivid baby blue as a great body of water that softly melted into a milky green. Hidden under his thick locks, I could even see the flecks of silver. He had tousled dark brown hair, which was thick and lustrous, and had began to dance with the sharp breeze let in by the disturbed door - He was staring at me, with a perplexed and embarrassed look. "What precisely are you staring at?" The voice which exited his pale lips was unexpected. It was low, with a hint of more power than the frail body would suggest, accompanied by a slight huskiness. "Aah- Well I..." I did not say anything--did not know what to say. We stared at each other for what seemed like an eternal millennia.

"If you're not going to tell me why you are staring at me with a blush of such rosy proportions, I'll be continuing my work, Thank you." He proclaimed, before swivelling on the spot towards a shelf opposing my view. As he did, his hair flowed, following his form perfectly. "H-Have you seen the, uh... The doctor anywhere?!" I cried. He stopped mid-turn, slowly returning his gaze to me. He fixed his sapphire eyes locking on mine. "I have not." He quickly responded, in a much harsher, resenting voice. The sudden coldness caught me by surprise. "Oh, could you tell him that Samuel is doing the usual rounds?" I begged him. He frowned, and his face took on a new form, still pleasing, however. "... Of course." He answered. The left side of his faint red lip tugged upwards creating a sinister smirk on his god like face; casting a spell of lust to eyes that dare look his way. I quickly returned to the door, grasping the door handle and stumbling out of the frame in an awkward fumble. 'What on earth was that?' I thought to myself as I continued down the road, sighing and cupping my hands around my cheeks in the ravenous blizzard that engulfed me.