Clutching The Darkness

Chapter 6: Emotional Infant

In the sea of wood strips, Styrofoam balls, paper mache, and bottles of miscellaneous cottons, stood the 'famous' leather. I quickly jogged over to it and called for Nasima, who had been grilling me to find it for her while she scoured the area for epoxy glue. 

There was the famous rainbow of the fascinating colors of leather: brown, dusty brown, dark brown, darker brown, darkest brown, black, and a hideous burgundy.

Needless to say, I never really liked leather scabbards, I always found them to be dull and boring. The same shades of color with their padded but dry textures and designs. Wooden scabbards, now that's different because they could have a myriad of different finishes, platings, and designs!

"Nice"

"Is this what you wanted?" I asked.

"Eh, It'll work. Argh, but it's too pricey!"

It WAS too pricey. A sheet of twelve by twelve inches was nearing the red zone: the twenty-five dollar mark, plus sales tax. Fuck sales tax, they don't even count in GDP! ...Or do they? Regardless, a single sheet was way too pricey and no absurd idiot would ever pay that much for such a stupid produ-

"Right, I'll be taking one"

"What!? Nasima, that's ridiculously expensive, are you sure?" Then I thought to myself, could she even afford this? What would her father think if he saw her spending not just the twenty-five on some overpriced dead reptile but also the glue, the yarn, the thread and whatever else she needed for her art? It'd piss her off, that's for sure, so should I even mention it?

"Hey! Are you saying I can't afford it?" It was a bait question. A trap waiting to happen. If I answered: 'Yes, you dip you can't afford that!', I'd get a rampage of verbal magnitude thrown at me. If I said no, then she would probe about why I'd doubt she could afford it. I ended up choosing my only safe choice here.

"Yeah, the leather does look nice." No it doesn't, it looks like cattle roadkill. What does this supermarket think it could get away with? Are they trying to inflate the prices?

"Yeah, it does right!"

I nodded and we went on our way. Eventually after we bought all the materials, we met up with Isaac and Benilde near the counter, and upon seeing the huge bottle of Jack Daniels, we knew that we were going to have a fun night. Benilde bought some snacks as well, something I was eternally grateful for since I was starving.

We went outside, and hung around the parking lot, our backs resting across the trunk of Isaac's car. Not even the small scent of honey and dried nuts could filter out the sharp, acrid taste of alcohol with its smoky, light licorice savor. Benilde and I growled with the common 'ack' you do when you haven't tasted alcohol in what seemed like forever. I gripped one of the red plastic cups they bought while I battled with my throat to not scream out my chords with the irritation I felt.

"It's times like these we have to appreciate sometimes," Isaac began, his face seeming distant and forlorn. This time, he didn't try to hide his emotional sentiment with a fake laugh or an audible chuckle. It was unfiltered, just like his emotions flowed.

 Benilde and Nasima gagged on the side of the hood... so it was just him and I, but in that moment, it didn't feel like I was there. He took a swig and stared at the sunset. He stared and stared, and commented nothing about the cycle.

"They're not real. Just fabrications."

You say that but they still act LIKE them. But if it's my own perception, I guess my imagined form of them would act the way I did know them to be. Which means, if they act only on what I know of them, then that means... His sense of loneliness. The thing he rarely brought up, the laughter he used to hide it. He has Benilde, but he feels lonely. Nine.