The Lost Boy

Chapter 4

Darkness. Chilled, empty, numb darkness. Weightlessness, like what floating through the sky must feel like.

Suddenly, there were tiny spots of color, flashing and fading, sparkling against the darkness like stars. Starting small and dim, they grew big and bright for the briefest burst before they faded into nothingness again.

Tingling. That chilly feeling replaced by a warmth as bells chimed, first softly, then slowly growing louder and louder before they pulsed in his ears like his heartbeat. 

A voice. A soft, almost incoherent voice, breaking through the bells ringing in his ears and the colorful black sky. Like the bells, the voice slowly broke its way through the many barriers blocking its way to his ears, growing louder as it went. Soon, the message became distinguishable. 

"Rooster." 

A hook seemed to snag him around the waist, beginning to yank him away from the vast reaches of the darkness. The starbursts and bells seemed resistant, grabbing him and holding him firmly as the hook continued to pull insistently and the voice calling his name grew louder still. The two forces attempting to rip him in half, neither willing to back down and release him, reminded him of a game he used to play with the other orphans and a rope. Being one of the bigger boys, he'd always won, especially when teamed up with the largest boy, Codfish.

But this was hardly as fun as any of those games had been. His mind and body were being shredded, dragged in two different directions by two stubborn and strong forces. 

He was shaking. Shaking violently. He wanted to scream, wanted to reclaim himself from these two fighting forces, but he was voiceless, helpless. 

Pain. The numbness gone, there was so much pain. 

"Rooster!" 

The hook overcame the blackness, gaining a firm hold on him before giving a great big yank that wrenched him away from the darkness too fast for him to process. He was thrown back into his body, back onto his makeshift bed of rain-softened roots, back in that strange, incredible jungle, all alone.

All feeling returned. He was still shaking, only he could now tell that it was coming from something resting on his shoulder. Red stabbed at his eyelids and he groaned, curling into an even tighter ball as he attempted to bury his face in his arms. 

"Rooster!" 

Wait. 

He knew that voice. 

It was a voice he'd been made to listen to for years. A voice that had delivered its skepticism and pessimism every day, but had laughed with his voice for just as long. 

Rooster opened his eyes, squinting against the sunlight breaking through the emerald green leaves of the trees overhead. A shadow hungover him, reaching for him, saying his name. 

The thing on his shoulder, gently shaking him, he could now tell was a hand, which meant that the silhouette looming over him must have been a person. If that voice belonged to who he knew it belonged to, then this could only be one person.

"Cod?" His voice cracked, his throat dry and burning furiously. He rubbed his eyes and blinked, but still could make out no features. "That you?" 

"Hey, you're alive," Codfish said, leaning back. The sunlight caught on his friend's teeth as he smirked. 

"'Course," Rooster croaked, flashing a weak smile as he boosted himself upright. Roots were no proper bed. He found himself almost wishing for his cot back at the orphanage. Every bit of him felt as knotted as the tree at his back.