>•~Falling Upwards~•<

Chapter Thirty Six: A Mirror of Him

A/N: slightttt gore warning!!

Also bugs

Many

Many

Many bugs.

Also possible ghosts?

Haha I don't really know, and I am the author of this book!!

Oh, also rotting :D

--

Oh you,
It was always you,
Only if I had I always known this,
Through every form,
You strove to take.

Oh you,
You would come,
To sweep me up,
Take me up from my feet -
My "sweet" little hero.

Little would you have ever known,
That I was always able to walk.
I just enjoyed you;
I enjoyed your company;
I used to love being your victim.

Now, the tides and changed.
I see that the play,
In which we were its actors,
Was true.
None of it was fairytale.

--

~C~

  "You know what?" I declare, and pop my hands on my hips.

  April has that stupid look, where she seems like she is about to burst into laughter. "What? What is it?"

  "I am going to go take a nap!" I nod off to her.

  "Alright then, Your Highness," She nods back to me. "Do you want me to bring you a royal cushion?"

  I shake my head, and throw her a smile, "Thanks, but I am good. I do not have any need for a peasant's pillow!"

  I throw in an accent I approve to be "royal". Was it really? I don't know - I am no royal. April seems to have approved of it though. Maybe she is somehow secretly a royal.

  I give her a small wave for a goodbye. She returns this. That makes me smile, and I cannot figure out just why it does. I like her company. I enjoy being around her.

  April fakes being a terrible person. She isn't. She never was. I wonder why someone would ever choose to wear that mask. That is a foreign topic to me, as most topics are.

  I saunter my way over to that spot on the ground where we sleep. It is not comfortable. The ground is hard, and very heated. In this weather, if one would like to call this place's weather even "weather", extra heat is never good.

  I lay down on my side. I watch as some small bug scurries by. I could never imagine being so small. So tiny. Even this ruined house must seem like an entire universe to the little dude.

  I reach my hand out for it to crawl onto my hand. Quickly, it scurries away from me. Each of its tiny legs rapidly carry it off. They leave little marks on the ground to show where it had been. This place is so dusty, or a better term would be, sandy. A small critter's legs can make a mark on this vast floor.

  I trail my hand across the floor. It is wooden, and it is still wet. Maybe it wasn't dust or sand that the bug's footprints made a mark on. Perhaps that is just the rotting floor giving away. The small bug's paws were just helping it to decay.

  As I look about, I see how a whole nest of these... bugs swarm about every corner. A whole nest of them! They carry off small chunks of wood, and bring it over to their corner full of hunks of it.

  'That is disgusting.' Is the first thought that comes to mind.

  I get up and move over. However, I catch one of them on my arm. Then I see two. Then three. Then four, and five, six - Suddenly, there are tons.

  I try to swat them off. More just pile on. So angry... So upset. What did I do to them? Where did I go wrong?

  I feel tears brim at my eyes. What am I doing wrong? My hand goes it to bring them off. They nip at my hand, and crawl under my nails. I cry out, a horrid sound.

  I scoop a handful of all of them, and throw them off. They run back. They leave red marks on my skin. These poor critters.

  Suddenly, I see someone by the door. The silhouette of someone who had been close to me. Someone who I had been close to. I had once adored this person. Just from their weary shadow, I can see it.

  He walks in closer. It is August. A smile washes over my face. I feel both happy, and angry at the same time. I am overjoyed that he is here; I missed him too much for me to bear. Yet, why did he run off like a cowardly boy?

  He opens his arms, just like some sort of savior. I run to him. Every stinging bite, and every small, or large critter is gone. I hug him tightly, but he doesn't return this.

  My tears stain his red shirt. August pats my back. Then he brings me back, by peeling my arms from around him. I study his face. He looks much older, and his eyes hold the emotion of guilt.

  "It is time to go." He whispers.

  His hand draws over my face. I am sent into a darker place. Rest comes for me, but I do not wish for it. My eyes scream to be awake. However, "awake", is something I cannot give.

Am I making this all up?

Is this all in my head?