Blake looked at the box with distant fury as he bent down to pick it up. Looking at the box with reserve, his horrific thoughts soon came back to him. He believed he had left all those demons back in the woods. Most thoughts which were where this fox was killed. the brief glance he had given it gave him some clues to its age - it had been shot around a year or two ago max - but nothing about it brought any attention to the place were it lost it life.
As he did with every item he resented, but knew that he couldn't throw away, he put it on the top shelf of his wardrobe, thinking of how to get rid of it.
Closing his wardrobe door, he heard the creaking sound of someone coming up the stairs. Since his father had been talking with his friends, he knew it was his father wanting Blake to come shooting with him for the nth time. He quickly turned on his television and VCR and played whatever videocassette he had in there. Luckily it was halfway through his favorite movie. Blake jumped on his bed and quickly got into a comfortable position. His soggy clothes still hung drearily on his body. he covered himself quickly with his blanket just as the door opened and his father entered the room. He found his son watching a video.
'Hey Blake?' asked his father nonchalantly. 'Do you want to come shooting with Ray and me?'
That was a stupid question. By this point his father must be getting the hint that Blake didn't like hunting. It had been two years after all. Blake knew that he didn't want to go, but even if he did want to go, and he hoped that he wouldn't, with Ray going as well, even then his mind would not change. If any case were to come to fruition, the most likely scenario would be Ray shooting him.
'I think I will stay here and finish this off,' said Blake with a perturbed sigh, making it as obvious as possible that he never wanted to go to begin with.
His father didn't say another word. As with all the other times, he just turned and walked back out the door and closed it behind him. When the creaking of the steps faded away, Blake sighed quietly in relief. The trick had worked. The movie being half finished gave the illusion he had wanted. With a smile on his face, he knew his father thought he had invested enough time in the video. It wasn't easy to fool his father, but this time he got away with it. In the past - last week to call back the latest - Blake had the convenience of doing homework to but off the topic of hunting. Now that school had become a memory, the tense subconscious was coming up with answers.
That soft smile was short lived as his mind went back to thinking of what his father was doing this moment; probably taking inventory of his ammunition and preparing his 22. rifle. Ray would most likely be checking the weather outside while wondering, again, why Blake didn't want to come. Blake could only jab that Ray believed he lived in the rural areas now, so all "countryisms" that were there also suddenly became like old friends.
How far from the truth, Blake thought bitterly.
Soon Blake's grim attention was turned back to what was in his wardrobe. Just knowing the skin was in his wardrobe made him restless. If he didn't do something about it soon, he was going to go mad. with the TV still running yet providing only background noise, he paced up and down the room, wearing a groove in the carpet. There had to be some way of disposing it!
He raked his brain for half-an-hour while he fiddled with his new knife as he sat at his desk. Then the soul rendering throbbing started, like someone else heart had found its place inside his own, pumping effervescent energy along with his own. At first it was barely noticeable, something that could have easily have been a palpitation. When it started effecting his mood was when he started threat.
Something spoke to him then. Nothing audible was there, nor were there any visual clues. Just a sensation of a voice softly whispering directly in to his mind in a nonexistent language. Unsteady motions in the air around him pressed him into looking for answers other than the clear. The gleaming sensations were profoundly odd, yet somehow soothing.
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Change in Life
FantasyBlake never wanted much in life, purely because he did not receive a lot to begin with. School brought him down and his father's enthusiastic hunting separated his heart from his family. All he really had were the woods near his home and the strange...
