Escaping Tethoris Page #5
I wrote this is show case a fictional view of reality. The plot line is based on a childs mind and their perspectice of hop, joy, and difference. I wonder the lonleness of myselfthough Jason to attatch this sense of connection to the audience. His story has no soft edges, just like mine.
have also noticed he was saying his thoughts out loud, but he was so in-depth himself. Opening his eyes, he sat up quickly and was surprised to see the girl, Mr. Adams, standing right at the front of the door. Almost like dejavu, his eyes widened as he realized what happened. She heard what he said, “I could have sworn you said you were a -” “Don’t”, Jason cut her off. “Oh? You’re so sensitive, plus I was just asking” “Then JUST go away” At this moment Mr. Adams was in a state of mind that was not herself, see while Jason was experiencing his phenomenon with the widow, Ms. Adams had her own. She, while unlikely to admit, was sensitive so those she thought could trust or care for wound up and left within seconds. It took a toll further than anything could, and it could go pretty far, so her next choice of words she came to regret. “What? Afraid I’m gonna tell everyone you’re a ‘Blue Flower’?” Jason stood there, she was being serious with him, which scared him to death. “Next time you question my abilities, watch your back, or I’ll make sure everyone hears about this little thing of yours.” “Understand” Jason nodded. Who was he kidding, in this place, there is no room to be a flower. The next day, Jason walked out of his room, the previous night he was too afraid to step out of his room. This meant he skipped lunch and dinner, but it was nothing he hasn’t had to do before. When Jason awoke, it was to the sound of knocking on his door, short but loud. It was most definitely a call to leave and probably get breakfast. Standing he walked towards the clothes that were put away by the others who work here, thinking of what to wear. I mean he didn’t own much so the choices were dim, it seemed like another gray shirt, and black pants day to him. Slipping on his black-laced shoes which he enjoyed very much. They would make him just a tiny bit taller than the rest, as he was always self continuous to his height. Moving towards the door, none other than flora was there, seems like everyone just waits at his doorstep nowadays. “Follow me for breakfast”, he followed her down the hall and stairs, but this time to the right a new corridor that he had not been through. It was identical-looking from the open door hinge but it led to a huge dining area with a cafeteria and cooks, with what smelt like actual food. Bringing memories back from when his school would serve old milk and overly greasy pizza. Looking at all the kids he noticed the only chip that would always grab his attention, sitting by themselves, no food, no book, but silence around and in them. Jason felt pitiful for her, she must have been through a lot recently, but it does;t excuse her actions and so he held high and stepped on by. Take a silver, cold tray and place food as it would come from the staff behind the counter. He would thank each person for food, each time it was given, and when he got to the end, he picked a juice out of the options they gave, apple, grape, and orange, he always preferred grape. Now turning to sit down, he noticed the clip again, looking away for another table, again the clip, maybe looks to the left, the clip, right, clip, half-lift, clip, half right, and the clip shinned on by. Too much like fate indeed, he made his way to her table and sat right in front of her. While he wasn’t sure why he picked this seat he did, and the only thing he could think to say was extremely idiotic. “Mornin” Who says morning anymore, Jason was cursing himself inside his head. She looked up at him from the dark brown wooden table, if he knew better, he would say she smiled for just a second once he sat down. Looking around again he wondered why no one else sat with her either, maybe it was because of the conflict from yesterday. No matter the smile was done and a wall was built. She looked at him with disgust and adjusted herself, sitting more upright. “Perky as ever, aye, trying to win me over so I don't spread you little flower joke” Jason had completely forgotten about that, he was so stupid, and sitting was her was the worst idea of a lifetime. God if he would just wake up for two seconds maybe he would have remembered. “Oh and nice hair” She pointed at the mess of what it was, short brown wavy hair now an even shorter brown wavy afro-like hair. He was embarrassed and defended himself. “Yeah and nice face must have slept wrong” “Please, is that what you call a defense? Be more practical, like this” She looked Jason up and down before calculating a sentence. “Nice clothes, is this the second week of you wearing them, or are you too poor to afford better ones' ' Jason was stunned on how just a second ago everything was fine and now we are battling like animals to show our place. “Hey, no need to be mean, plus I wouldn’t say anything because by the looks of those bags you must have been crying all night” Jason saw the nerve in her strike, he continued. “What? Did I hit a nerve? That is if you had any, you look soulless with the way you present yourself.” “I mean come on, you could have at least tried, look at you-” Jason knew he should have stopped; he was going too far. “Greasy hair, and what could you be crying about, not like you got anyone waiting on your return” That was it, Jason made a mistake, when he noticed how big of a mistake he made, he could see it in the tears she shed before standing up and screaming in a sentence. “Jason calls himself a Blue Flower when he's alone” Jason could the laughs build, and build, he was looking down at his hand, too embarrassed to look up. I mean everyone was laughing, the children, then adults with the tiny laughs, it was all a game, nothing shabby but it stung, it hurt so bad to hear my mother's words come from a mouth that was riddled with a problematic girl. Jason was tearing up, his face got redder and redder, the tears were held and he could only think of his father as the laugh grew. How he would laugh with them, laugh at them, around them, near, from afar. The room was spinning and Jason couldn’t think and the doors were opening and closing, and his mother standing at his side if not patting his back, no, she was laughing? Laughing at me, I am not perfect, I am not the miracle, I am Jason, I am the non-perfect child because that is how I was born. I was born with flaws. Hyperventilating he covered his ear and ran to his room, faster and faster he could care less of the screams from him from Flora or the others behind him. He needed the window, the stars, or the greenhouse. The escape he had when sarcasm wasn’t there to help, he needed it, and he would find it. The rest of the night he stayed in his room because down the hall he could see the children, saying names like “pedals”, “blue”, or the most creative, “blue petals”, which was not creative at all. Jason was never this embarrassed. So at
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