*~ One-Shots ~*

The Forgotten Pathway

A boy, no older than 17, gently rocked back and forth on a swing situated at the bottom of his garden. He had short, wavy raven black hair that contrasted vastly to his pale blue, almost grey, eyes. A small scar sat just above his left eyebrow. He had a small nose and chapped lips, a cigarette placed gently between them. A deep brown leather jacket was nestled against his shoulders, a plain white t-shirt underneath. His black jeans were cuffed at the bottom revealing a sliver of skin above his light brown work boots. The tree that the swing hung from, stood flush against the wooden fence, the grass underneath the swing thin from feet scuffing against the ground. A vegetable garden stretched across one side of the garden, chairs and toys littering the other. Right by the backdoor of the house a patio stretched to a couple of metres away, a barbeque lent against the brick wall of the house.

The boy, Kai, suddenly halted in his swinging, eyes fixated on the back fence of the house. A wooden gate was there, half hidden behind some bushes. Carefully putting out his half burnt cigarette, he slowly slid off the swing, feet hitting the ground with a thud. He slowly trekked down the garden, pushing the bush out of the way, with little force. Crouching down, Kai peeked through the keyhole. He couldn't see much, mostly it was dark but he could see some bushes and worn out stone stepping stones embedded in the mud. Standing up straight, he gently pushed on the wood but it didn't budge. He kept pushing harder and harder but it stayed in place. Taking a step back and breathing in deeply, he lifted his leg and kicked the gate with all of his force, the gate snapping off its hinges, crashing down loudly. Kai looked around to make sure no one heard.

The worn stones stopped a few metres away, a pair of aged wooden doors sat at an angle at the end. Wildlife lined the path, crumbling stone walls hiding the rest of the world from view. Kai took slow, careful steps to the doors. He pulled on the doors, wincing as they creaked open. Stone steps twisted down out of view,a thine metal railing hanging along the edge. The boy slipped a pocket knife between his fingers, flicking the blade out as he descended the steps. As he reached the bottom step he swore under his breath as he stared in front of him, eyes flicking across the room. Pain and suffering seemed to roll off the walls in waves, clinging to the teen. What looked like a metal camping bed sat against the farthest wall, two cupboards hidden away in the corner. Children's drawings were taped to the wall on the left of him, names carved into the wall above the bed. A singular lightbulb hung from the ceiling.

Shock and sadness rippled through him as he realised where he stood. He was standing in a bunker from World War II. The boy's hand fumbled for a light switch, a faint buzzing noise filling the room as the light switched on. Spider webs hung from every corner, dust coated the surfaces like someone had covered the room in a thin white sheet. Taking careful steps down the last step and into the room, dust flying up around his boots, his feet stopping in the middle as he slowly spun in a circle. Ideas filled his head, he now had a secret hideout, he could do anything he wanted with the space. He could fill it with floor cushions and fairy lights and bookshelves, of course he'd keep the drawings up and not cover the carvings, his own space to hang out. His eyes were full of wonder as he stared ahead of him.