Status: On-going
And I'm the Perfect Good Girl
Josiah Comes Home
Josiah was lost. He groped at the darkness and stumbled over what he hoped were just branches and miscellenous forest-floor objects. The moon was a small, gray sliver in the dark sky and its miniscule light was constantly being covered by large, lumbering branches. He tried to stick close to the trees just to have something solid and capable to hold onto; something to assure him that he was still there and not floating away . Harmless shadows morphed into corpses and monstors of the night with every shaking step and the shapes around him distorted into strange, whirling things as his heart thudded dully in his head. Leaves rustled suspiciously. Sounds came crawling after him. Snarls. Growls. Screams. Images of old, ugly hags clawing at his face with terrifying smiles plastered over their disgusting faces and blood splattered beings grabbing at his ankles and bare arms wormed through his head, chilling his whole body with fear. All the while, the same thought rushed over and over through his head: I’ve already been here.
With a sudden burst of energy, he let out a frustrated yell and thrust himself forward, quickly sprawling face down onto the ground, his lower body lying painfully over an old, decaying log. For a minute, sanity passed over him, belaying the coming break-down. His eyes were closed tightly, the dirt burying into his face. Then he felt a tickle. Right on his ankle. And another. On his calf. And another. Then. A bite. And Josiah wasn’t calm anymore. He rolled over and stood up screaming like a white-faced banshee, his whole body shaking wildly in a cursed attempt to force the thingout of his leg. The thing was probably very small, but Josiah sobbed as if his life had ended. And he ran again. Farther and farther away from his intended destination. He didn’t know that of course. He couldn’t comprehend anything. Only that he had to run as fast as he could and escape whatever it was. But running is never a good thing to do in pitch black darkness.
Josiah blinked and winced. He sighed in relief. All he could remember was falling, falling for a very long time, but he couldn’t have been because he was lying on the ground blinking in confusion. The trees were still and quiet, quite different from what he had seen before. There were tiny yellow flowers scattered over the ground and a giant rock beside him, decorated with a spot of red. Josiah stared uncomfortably at the spot. Finally, he slowly raised his hand and carefully felt his forehead. Now, Josiah was a very courageous young man, but ever since young the sight of blood would make his stomach lurch and his lungs seem to fail to work. But this was his blood. A small part of him that had been wasted on a rock. He felt queasy as he eyed his twitching fingers. His stomach tightened and his breathing grew rapid, the air seeming to disappear with every desperate breath he took in. The edges of his sight were speckled with black and red and he wondered childishly if he was dying. Josiah turned his head slowly, closed his eyes tightly, stood shakily onto his legs, sucked in a raggedy breath, and fell down.
The empty blue sky stared blankly back at him. Mocking him. He closed his eyes. There was a quiet rustle to his left and his eyes snapped back open. The rustling stopped abruptly. “Who’s there,” he said quietly. Clearing his through gently, he said it again louder.
“Josiah.” Josiah clenched his fist and drew back from the direction of his voice. It was his voice, and it knew his name, but it couldn’t be him, because him was sitting on the ground, not hiding behind the bushes and the trees. “Oh, Josiah,” the voice drawled out. Josiah could not stand up out of fear, but he slowly scooted back over the grass. “Josiah.” Josiah jumped and stood up, his eyes wide and staring at the underbrush that he had been planning on escaping into. The voice had been right behind him. Right in his intended place. But how? There was a rustle. But the rustle did not come from the direction of the voice. Either directions. It came from his side and when he turned he saw a girl.
The girl blinked and smiled. “Good morning, Josiah.” Josiah was not comforted, because while the girl seemed to smile warmly, her eyes were strangly cold and icy. Unmoving. Unfeeling.
“W-who are you!” He yelled.
The girl broke out into a wide grin, her pearl white teeth straight and perfect. She walked towards him and Josiah unknowingly stepped back. She stepped forward calmly, her eyes always on him. But as she came closer, it seemed the girl hadn’t even been glancing at him. She strolled smoothly passed him, barely brushing his shoulders, and onto a small, almost unknown path that he hadn’t seen before. Josiah hesitated. Then, with careful trudges, he trailed behind the girl, keeping his eyes on her brown bob.
The walls had been freshly painted a light, creamy sky blue for him and the bed had been laid out with crisp, fresh linen. The pillows were fluffed and the curtains changed to something newer. The house had been completely brushed down, from the attic to the basement. Every inch was sparkling clean and perfect. Dinner was waiting in the oven and hot water was bubbling on top of the stove. The table was set with our best China and a dark, deep red table cloth was spread over it. We sat on the porch, waiting for him to come home.
You see. We had been waiting for him for so very long. We were becoming impatient, but everything was fine, now. Because he came. He came back home to us. Our lovely Josiah.
With a sudden burst of energy, he let out a frustrated yell and thrust himself forward, quickly sprawling face down onto the ground, his lower body lying painfully over an old, decaying log. For a minute, sanity passed over him, belaying the coming break-down. His eyes were closed tightly, the dirt burying into his face. Then he felt a tickle. Right on his ankle. And another. On his calf. And another. Then. A bite. And Josiah wasn’t calm anymore. He rolled over and stood up screaming like a white-faced banshee, his whole body shaking wildly in a cursed attempt to force the thingout of his leg. The thing was probably very small, but Josiah sobbed as if his life had ended. And he ran again. Farther and farther away from his intended destination. He didn’t know that of course. He couldn’t comprehend anything. Only that he had to run as fast as he could and escape whatever it was. But running is never a good thing to do in pitch black darkness.
Josiah blinked and winced. He sighed in relief. All he could remember was falling, falling for a very long time, but he couldn’t have been because he was lying on the ground blinking in confusion. The trees were still and quiet, quite different from what he had seen before. There were tiny yellow flowers scattered over the ground and a giant rock beside him, decorated with a spot of red. Josiah stared uncomfortably at the spot. Finally, he slowly raised his hand and carefully felt his forehead. Now, Josiah was a very courageous young man, but ever since young the sight of blood would make his stomach lurch and his lungs seem to fail to work. But this was his blood. A small part of him that had been wasted on a rock. He felt queasy as he eyed his twitching fingers. His stomach tightened and his breathing grew rapid, the air seeming to disappear with every desperate breath he took in. The edges of his sight were speckled with black and red and he wondered childishly if he was dying. Josiah turned his head slowly, closed his eyes tightly, stood shakily onto his legs, sucked in a raggedy breath, and fell down.
The empty blue sky stared blankly back at him. Mocking him. He closed his eyes. There was a quiet rustle to his left and his eyes snapped back open. The rustling stopped abruptly. “Who’s there,” he said quietly. Clearing his through gently, he said it again louder.
“Josiah.” Josiah clenched his fist and drew back from the direction of his voice. It was his voice, and it knew his name, but it couldn’t be him, because him was sitting on the ground, not hiding behind the bushes and the trees. “Oh, Josiah,” the voice drawled out. Josiah could not stand up out of fear, but he slowly scooted back over the grass. “Josiah.” Josiah jumped and stood up, his eyes wide and staring at the underbrush that he had been planning on escaping into. The voice had been right behind him. Right in his intended place. But how? There was a rustle. But the rustle did not come from the direction of the voice. Either directions. It came from his side and when he turned he saw a girl.
The girl blinked and smiled. “Good morning, Josiah.” Josiah was not comforted, because while the girl seemed to smile warmly, her eyes were strangly cold and icy. Unmoving. Unfeeling.
“W-who are you!” He yelled.
The girl broke out into a wide grin, her pearl white teeth straight and perfect. She walked towards him and Josiah unknowingly stepped back. She stepped forward calmly, her eyes always on him. But as she came closer, it seemed the girl hadn’t even been glancing at him. She strolled smoothly passed him, barely brushing his shoulders, and onto a small, almost unknown path that he hadn’t seen before. Josiah hesitated. Then, with careful trudges, he trailed behind the girl, keeping his eyes on her brown bob.
The walls had been freshly painted a light, creamy sky blue for him and the bed had been laid out with crisp, fresh linen. The pillows were fluffed and the curtains changed to something newer. The house had been completely brushed down, from the attic to the basement. Every inch was sparkling clean and perfect. Dinner was waiting in the oven and hot water was bubbling on top of the stove. The table was set with our best China and a dark, deep red table cloth was spread over it. We sat on the porch, waiting for him to come home.
You see. We had been waiting for him for so very long. We were becoming impatient, but everything was fine, now. Because he came. He came back home to us. Our lovely Josiah.
♠ ♠ ♠
A little slow, but meh.