Depthless: Under The Library

Chapter Twenty-Six// David

David's POV

It was a sunny day outside, and my parents had decided to take our whole family out to the only park for a picnic. The Techno Park, the widest patch of greenery still perfectly preserved in the world--- and that's how I spent my last moments above ground. Well... I'll get to that later.

At that time, I was twelve, and still pretty much a boy, less of a teenager, a little on the moody side, and with a great ounce of stupidity only a grown guy could look upon with a certain fondness, and cringe just ever so slightly.

Well, those were the days, of ice-creams in the parks, of cheery sunshiny days and happy smiles. On those particular days, we always went on those treasured family outings involving every possible embarrassing family moment a person could dream up, which is what I'm doing right now.

Lucid dreaming had always come easily to me. Basically, it's just dreaming and knowing you are experiencing a dream. But at this moment, what I'm experiencing isn't so much a dream than a sheer memory--- a flashback.

Back to the park. Now, the park had always been a source of unending entertainment for my sister and I. Brooke and I, (my older sister, and a pest at that time) were so bored with the never ending 'situations' going on at home, that we absolutely begged our parents to take us to the park.

Well, that day, no one had brought up the subject of a picnic, but it kind of happened anyway. In my foggy, childish state of mind, I remember lugging a heavy picnic basket, past the endless buzz of the city, through the dazzling brightness of the sunlight reflecting from the high storey glass window panes, and into the dense thicket of what tourists flock over from the whole world to see--- the park in all it's natural glory.

"Couldn't you carry mine for me?" Fifteen-year-old Brooke begs me, straining under the weight of her knapsack, sweating profusely under the glaring sunlight which had become the bane of our existence.

"No--- I've got my load. Plus, you are supposed to be the stronger one!" I pointed out.

Brooke then proceeded to lunge into a conversation on how males were supposed to be stronger, and how brother's were supposed to take the load off their sisters, and I retaliated with my own words of pure wisdom, when all of a sudden, mom and dad halted, causing Brooke and I to almost collide into them. Gran lagged behind, strolling peacefully and singing old songs of nature to herself.

"What's up, mom?" Brooke questions, her light blonde curls bouncing as she pants for breath. "Why are you stopping? Our usual picnic spot is over there, by the lake."

When she said lake, she meant man-made, of course. The oldest of lakes had already dried up decades ago, leaving ugly gaping holes the government had tried to cover up by furthering their never-ending developments. The old dried up lakes are now parking lots under towering skyscrapers. Which is a waste, in my opinion.

"No... it's not..." mom stammers, but dad rushes in to fill her sentence gap. "No, what mom means, is, we uh... would you like some ice-cream?"

Well, I just loathe it when grown ups deny telling their kids the truth, and make up some cover story for whatever they really are discussing behind our backs. But at that moment in life, who could resist an offer of ice-cream? Especially on such a blazing hot summer's day?

Mom and dad allowed us to dump our stuff on a picnic table and Brooke and I ran to the ice-cream stall. There were three in the park, but Brooke and I particularly fancied one called I-seek-crème. It wasn't the cheesy name, nor was the limited menu that had drawn our attention and favour, but it was all about presentation.

While the other ice cream stalls were air-conditioned and fully quipped with fancy machines and classy tables, I-seek-crème had seeked after originality, taking ice cream back down to level one: the basics.