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The Worst Fear
Oct. 11th, 2013 02:42 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
chou_punkIt is fall, one of the seasons the blond boy loathes. His hands and feet are cold as ice like the rest of his anatomy. It's dark out like nightfall when it's only seven o'clock in the morning, yet the stars are still out. He looks around his bedroom that has widened.
It's too cold out to go for a walk. I only have a scarf and a thin jacket.
The short blond shakes his roommate, Jersey, in attempt to wake him up. Nothing. He's a heavy sleeper, only hoping he wakes up soon. When he leaves the bedroom into the hallway, the lights don't flicker on and he feels as though he's sinking into complete darkness. He could hear bugs crawling on the walls and ceiling, but that doesn't scare him (he's like a little kid who loves bugs).
He's worried with how differently his house has shaped into, this isn't exactly the same place he owns. It was similar in both exterior and interior. With how big it has gotten in the inside, he believes he'll get lost, he isn't able to find a flashlight. Punkish blindly searches for the door, putting on his jacket and scarf and into the once beautiful garden.
Trees he's never planted decorate the dead-like acres of land. And... Is that blood dripping from the branches? Lost appetite.
He wants to puke, that's his (second) worst fear of them all (first being bloodied, ruined corpses or people). He hates the site of blood, the smell of blood, and usually the taste of blood. He covers his sea blue eyes, running out the yard and into the streets. He wants to scream and have his roommate be near him, but that Jersey is probably not awake.
He uncovers his eyes, looking from left to right. People venturing out like this is something common, or they've quickly adapted to it.
And the cold air bites at his skin.
It's too cold out to go for a walk. I only have a scarf and a thin jacket.
The short blond shakes his roommate, Jersey, in attempt to wake him up. Nothing. He's a heavy sleeper, only hoping he wakes up soon. When he leaves the bedroom into the hallway, the lights don't flicker on and he feels as though he's sinking into complete darkness. He could hear bugs crawling on the walls and ceiling, but that doesn't scare him (he's like a little kid who loves bugs).
He's worried with how differently his house has shaped into, this isn't exactly the same place he owns. It was similar in both exterior and interior. With how big it has gotten in the inside, he believes he'll get lost, he isn't able to find a flashlight. Punkish blindly searches for the door, putting on his jacket and scarf and into the once beautiful garden.
Trees he's never planted decorate the dead-like acres of land. And... Is that blood dripping from the branches? Lost appetite.
He wants to puke, that's his (second) worst fear of them all (first being bloodied, ruined corpses or people). He hates the site of blood, the smell of blood, and usually the taste of blood. He covers his sea blue eyes, running out the yard and into the streets. He wants to scream and have his roommate be near him, but that Jersey is probably not awake.
He uncovers his eyes, looking from left to right. People venturing out like this is something common, or they've quickly adapted to it.
And the cold air bites at his skin.
