One peaceful night, Senid paces around his bedroom, thinking about the events of his day. The Walking Dead, Minecraft, and just a few anime posters line his wall.
He steps up to his small wooden desk, and begins writing in a (obviously green) notebook.
Every day since Ein's death, Senid has been writing to the old man. It's been helping him cope with the loss.
-Day 800-
Exciting, the big 800! I've been waiting for this for 800 days!
Senid writes, giggling softly. He continues.
I hope you had a lovely day up there. Mine was filled with a lot of laughs. The typical day as of lately. After school, Alex and I went to Zoemmy's house. Zoey stayed in her room for the most part, but Tommy kicked our butts on Wii bowling. If only he'd put all that time into actually exercising. Oh, at one point Alex almost threw the remote after barely losing, it was really funny to me, Tommy laughed too. Even Alex did with us after the whole scenario. It's 12 o'clock now. I'm writing a bit late because I hung out in Alex's room after dinner with mom and dad, then I had to catch up on some homework that I forgot about :P. But, overall, my day was very pleasant, and I know that you'll make tomorrow the same for me. I love you grandpa. Goodnight.
Senid smiles, closing the notebook.
He changes into his fuzzy PJ's, then grabs a small piece of paper.
Goodnight Alex, I love you.
He writes.
With the note, he walks over to the window that's to the right of his bed.
A thunk is heard as he opens it. Directly to the right of the window, is the window to Alex's room. It's cracked open. He slides the note in, and lays down.
"Goodnight guys."
He says to all of his puppets stacked up on top of a wooden toy chest to the left of his bed.
Yes, Senid is 14 and still does this, get over it.
Before he closes his eyes though, a note slips it's way into the window and onto the floor. He excitedly gets out of bed to observe it.
Go to bed faggot
It reads, in Alex's handwriting. Under the words, a purple colored heart is drawn. 💜
He smiles, and goes to sleep.
Alex stays up for another hour, laying in bed listening to My Chemical Romance on his headphones.
...
At the crack of dawn the next morning, a cigarette lights in the dark, crispy air that's brightened by the barely shining sun. The smoke floating into the sky gently.
A scratchy looking man puffs the cigarette, and
"Whoosh."
He says, breathing out.
He flicks the ash away, knocking it into a bucket on the wooden porch below.
He leans back and looks at the fading stars. Everytime that he opens his eyes after blinking, he's grateful for everything before him. Especially, the small excited creature that's approaching.
He puts the cigarette out, and kneels down.
"Did you have a nice pee there guy? You pissed on everything in the yard like twice."
There, Tommy kneels, holding a German Shepherd's face to look into his eyes. The Dog, responds by sticking his tongue out, adorably, and brainlessly.
His name is Wheel.
"Pat pat, gentle loving pat, I love you. Pat. He says, before chuckling as the dog covers his hairy chin with slobber with every lick.
"Ready to go ins-"
Tommy tries to ask, but the dog already knows.
YOU ARE READING
Colored Full of Trauma
FantasyTrauma is something that very few people don't have. Life is hard. Now, imagine if your trauma gave you some "magical ability" that is related to it. Like Tommy, a boy who was abused, only to develop the ability to conjure rollerblades on his/other...
