When Angels Cry Blood.
Not Long Ago, I Gave Up Hope...
Gerard’s POV.
I sighed, chewing anxiously at my lip and staring up at the full moon that seemed to fill the endless night sky. I drew in a deep breath and picked up a stone from the pile that sat beside me. The grass was wet and cold as I let my body collapse in the dew. I ran my fingers along the smooth surface and wondered for a minute what it was like to be a rock. Everyone treats you like you don’t matter and just kick you around because they figure you’ll always be there because you are a rock and a rock is an inanimate object that cannot move nor speak. I sort of felt like a rock right then, at least my family treated me like I was one. They just kicked me around and figured it was allowable because I really couldn’t leave. They just assumed I was paralyzed and wouldn’t take the opportunity to run away from it all if I was offered it. And the truth was if I could get away from slavery and the people I am constantly associated and grouped with that would make everything better.
I continued looking at the sharp, gray colored rock. I raised my arm and attempted to skip the rock across the adjacent lake. I failed miserably and the rock quickly sank to the bottom. If I stayed here like they wanted me to, like the rock, I was bound to sink – sink and die.
I heard rustling behind me and my heart began to race. There we’re loads of crazed fugitives running around in the woods, most likely angry with my father and my kind for enslaving them. I knew better than to be running around in the woods late at night. That is when the fugitives ran away and began to make their way to Canada through the Underground Railroad. It was of course, not a real railroad, although at first I thought it was. I knew all about it from listening to my dad bitch about it to his friends while they we’re getting drunk downstairs late at night.
“Hello?” I heard a timid squeak echo in the silence.
“Hello?” I answered quietly, fearing a large fugitive would pop out with a pitchfork.
Instead, it was soft spoken little Frank who emerged from the shadows with a look of terror on his small face.
“Oh,” He said softly, “Sorry, I thought you we’re some cop who was going to accuse me of running away. You’re not going to tell your father I left, right?”
I shook my head quickly, “Of course not. What brings you … uh, out here?”
“Oh. See, I saw the lake earlier today and wanted to come look at it but I haven’t had the chance, so I figured while everyone was asleep I would. I like the serene things like that … you know… clouds and all that soft shit.”
“It’s not soft or anything, it’s just beautiful.” I smiled, patting the damp ground beside me.
He smiled graciously and took his seat.
“Thanks for being so kind to me. I was wicked afraid to come here and start over and be a…” He paused and shuddered slightly, “Slave.”
“It’s no problem at all,” I turned away and looked up at the vast moon again, “I think that slavery is bullshit.”
He smiled again. He had a handsome smile; it wasn’t big and cheesy and it wasn’t forced and small. It was just … perfect. It was silent but it not because we felt awkward hanging out with each other, but because I saw that Frank was slowly relaxing and opening up to me. It was almost like we we’re friends, and if we are, I’m almost certain I’m the only one he has here.
I sighed, chewing anxiously at my lip and staring up at the full moon that seemed to fill the endless night sky. I drew in a deep breath and picked up a stone from the pile that sat beside me. The grass was wet and cold as I let my body collapse in the dew. I ran my fingers along the smooth surface and wondered for a minute what it was like to be a rock. Everyone treats you like you don’t matter and just kick you around because they figure you’ll always be there because you are a rock and a rock is an inanimate object that cannot move nor speak. I sort of felt like a rock right then, at least my family treated me like I was one. They just kicked me around and figured it was allowable because I really couldn’t leave. They just assumed I was paralyzed and wouldn’t take the opportunity to run away from it all if I was offered it. And the truth was if I could get away from slavery and the people I am constantly associated and grouped with that would make everything better.
I continued looking at the sharp, gray colored rock. I raised my arm and attempted to skip the rock across the adjacent lake. I failed miserably and the rock quickly sank to the bottom. If I stayed here like they wanted me to, like the rock, I was bound to sink – sink and die.
I heard rustling behind me and my heart began to race. There we’re loads of crazed fugitives running around in the woods, most likely angry with my father and my kind for enslaving them. I knew better than to be running around in the woods late at night. That is when the fugitives ran away and began to make their way to Canada through the Underground Railroad. It was of course, not a real railroad, although at first I thought it was. I knew all about it from listening to my dad bitch about it to his friends while they we’re getting drunk downstairs late at night.
“Hello?” I heard a timid squeak echo in the silence.
“Hello?” I answered quietly, fearing a large fugitive would pop out with a pitchfork.
Instead, it was soft spoken little Frank who emerged from the shadows with a look of terror on his small face.
“Oh,” He said softly, “Sorry, I thought you we’re some cop who was going to accuse me of running away. You’re not going to tell your father I left, right?”
I shook my head quickly, “Of course not. What brings you … uh, out here?”
“Oh. See, I saw the lake earlier today and wanted to come look at it but I haven’t had the chance, so I figured while everyone was asleep I would. I like the serene things like that … you know… clouds and all that soft shit.”
“It’s not soft or anything, it’s just beautiful.” I smiled, patting the damp ground beside me.
He smiled graciously and took his seat.
“Thanks for being so kind to me. I was wicked afraid to come here and start over and be a…” He paused and shuddered slightly, “Slave.”
“It’s no problem at all,” I turned away and looked up at the vast moon again, “I think that slavery is bullshit.”
He smiled again. He had a handsome smile; it wasn’t big and cheesy and it wasn’t forced and small. It was just … perfect. It was silent but it not because we felt awkward hanging out with each other, but because I saw that Frank was slowly relaxing and opening up to me. It was almost like we we’re friends, and if we are, I’m almost certain I’m the only one he has here.