The Adventures Of John B : The Sacred Stone

Part 5 - Only The Lonely

SIDENOTE: The song might not fit the writing. The video above is just the source from which I got the name for this chapter.

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my eyes fluttered open, no longer burdened by the heavy weight of sleepiness that had once sat atop my eyelids.

the room was dark, lit only by the flickering balls of light that floated around the room. their blurred edges left me guessing what they were.  maybe torches or candles.

most of the room was pitch black. 

the seat beneath me was cold and sturdy as if I were sitting on stone.

i went to scratch my forehead.

i felt a slight tug against my hands.  i pulled harder, only to find myself wincing at the motion.

my hands were bound together with a tight knot.  the thick rope rubbed against my soft wrists.

it was chilling.  that dim luminosity cast across the room and the dryness in my throat.

i turned my head to see a girl sitting in another seat of stone, a streak of light painted on her face.

she was facing me with her eyes closed. 

a halo of brown hair, smooth as silk, sat on her head in the form of a bun.  hairs stuck out like disheveled feathers on a bird.   glasses slid down her tiny, button - like nose.   her skin was dotted by small bumps, produced from years of slight scratching. her face was speckled by numerous freckles, much like the night sky is embellished by constellations. unpredictable, bunched mixtures of stars.   she had a stream of drool running down the side of her poised lips.  her small face displayed one who had nothing to lose.  or someone who had nothing to hold on to in the first place.

travelers of fear walked across the barren deserts of her eyelids, wearing down on the gentle skin that lay there. 

the long eyelashes that adorned her eyes began to flitter. 

suddenly, hazel  orbs were staring back at him, tainted by a shadow of gray affliction. her eyes, a canvas blemished by evident pain and misery, held an underlying sense of unquenchable curiosity.  as soon as she turned her head, sparks of violet popped up into the expressive atmosphere of her eyes like fireworks.  underneath were dark circles, built up over weeks of pent up nights on the phone. days where the lack of sleep began to manifest on her face. the eyebrows above were thin and stressed as if they had been poised in that position many times before. a position in which it seemed that she was always asking a forgotten question and waiting for an unknown answer.

"where the hell are we?!" i jolted upright at the familiar sound of my brother's voice.

swirling my head to the side, i only saw a good friend of mine.

"seems interesting, wouldn't you say?" the man put on a somber grin.

so incredibly somber.

that's one thing i noticed about John.  those cheeky grins of his were so easy to put on, but it didn't mean they were real.  to me, every emotion of his was transparent.  i guess that's because he's comfortable with me.

the only time a smile appears on his face -- a rare, real smile --  is when the unpredictable occurs. 

that sad, sad smirk made me feel all gloomy out of nowhere.  but i'd always felt kinda like that.  like on a rainy day.  or at home, when no one's up to talking.  just sitting and gulping down food because it's what has been put in front of us.