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.

• Fiction

								

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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