My Little Nightmares: Stories of the Little Ones

Chapter 2: The Boy in the Bandana Mask

It's safe to say that no place is safe. As far as he knows it. And he's already caught in some sort of situation. Which is fairly common, especially when the skies are colored in a gloomy gray, with heavy mist passing and wandering on the ground and depressing clouds hovering over the land, the sea, and the dock house.

He can get the hint of it as he walks on a plank from one wall with an open vent to another, high above the wreckage of ruined fishing boats, crates, and ocean supplies that collide together. Almost like no one cares to completely organize them properly.

There were even racks with some placed in there, but yet, most of them were left unused.

Ropes, chains, and boards of wood were hung up on the ceiling. Even a table and chair were strapped up by some ropes and were left to hang up there. It's not something anyone would see, is it? He assumes this must be a small warehouse for boats. And he thinks it's small because there were much bigger warehouses that didn't just include boats. But from his pint size, it was also pretty large.

From what he can describe is the sound from inside of the warehouse, almost like muffled wind blowing, creaking steel shingles and girders, with slight rumbling echoes and unknown distant sounds coming from wherever outside. He loves listening closely to the sounds of things. That's what helps him stay alive. And why he has an acute sense of hearing.

The young boy casually kept walking across the plank as it creaked ever so slightly as if the wood was already rotting. He placed one foot over the other with his arms raised to form a T-pose to steady his balance. He wasn't too scared about falling. He had done this before. The only worst thing that could happen if he all of a sudden lost his balance and fell straight down into the wreckage. As brave as he is, he's also scared of the world. He doesn't want to be scared as he is taught that fear is his weakness and that it will never help with anything. But there's always a breaking point when you have to let it all out. He blinked every ten seconds, and his gaze shifted from down to his feet and forward where the window was, as he took extra precaution of his actions. He tries not to look down so much but never denies that when someone says, "Don't look down," you are urged to look down. Which is why he never tells himself that. Instead, he always says, "Look forward, look at your feet, and look forward again. That's what you need to know." And that process helps keep his balance linear. He didn't stumble one bit when most people who have to balance on something always do.

He was close to the window, only a few more steps forward. But just then... "Ah..." Hey!" He echoes.

A crow suddenly flew in his way, startling him, and almost making him fall. And it annoyed him as he was doing relatively well. The bird flew up out of a hole in the ceiling and sat on the ledge. The boy glared at it in irritation, but he didn't stay long to be bitter about it. He continued forward, passing the blue light that emitted through the hole, and made it to the border where the window was. He stepped on the pale wooden platform and knelt in front of the blurred and stained window, pulling up the latch first before he pushed it open as it creaked. He stepped out on a small, flat rooftop, glanced to his left, and viewed the rest of the building, along with the sight of the open ocean.

He doesn't know why but for the longest time he has been here, he always has this feeling that he lacks the capacity of having any other emotions, besides being determined, hardy, and somewhat bitter. As if he had already lost sadness or happiness. But he never had it to begin with. Not in birth, not in this world. It was all just determination and being strict. Every man, or boy for themselves.

He inhales and exhales as the slightly cold air breezes in his face. The excess straps of his bandana with glass-covered eye holes sway and are carried up by the gust. He feels slight goosebumps from the wind. Even feeling his bald head to be numb.