Joshua.
Joshua.
“They’re my comfy shoes,” he informed brightly; “they’re like slippers.” he smiled widely at me.
His smile was like that of a dog’s when they were panting, when they appeared to be smiling but it is only the shape of their snouts that gave them the appearance. His eyes were large and attentively interested at something behind blond bangs, and they were rimmed with dark make up all around his eye sockets. His teeth were not perfect in size yet symmetrically the same to its opposite, giving him an even more dog like appearance. Hi hair was black and teased and mangled; a large voluminous mass of tangled black that seemed untamed and reaching out in every direction. In front of his forehead there were blond bangs over his eyes.
“What’s your name?” I asked him carefully.
He was staring right at me as I ask him the question, but he only remained staring. Then he began rocking back and forth in the grass and his eyes went wandering. He seemed to be like a little kid with a short attention span. After a few moments, he answered.
“Josh.” He seemed to barely get it out. He continued wandering.
“Josh?”
He was silent; almost distracted.
“Josh...ua……Joshua…actually.” his London accent alternated his pronunciation of words.
“Joshua.” I repeated brazenly, mocking his accent.
I saw him bite his lip and an amused smile slowly creep across his face.
“Joshua Hayward.” He added, a little louder this time.
“Mr. Joshua Hayward!” I said boastingly. The smile turned into a grin and I heard a snort
behind the mass of hair.
“Joshua Von Grimm!” he whispered this time, observing me with joy.
“Sir Joshua. Von. Grimm.” I said in a perfect British accent.
It was then he suddenly broke out into psychotic laughter. The smile grew into an inane grin plastered across his face. He doubled over and for a few seconds did not make a sound. Then I began to hear high gasping noises, as if he couldn’t breathe, muffled behind black mass of hair. As his laughter grew louder and more spontaneous, I could not tell if he was laughing or crying. A crackle of high pitched sobs was what it sounded like, insane and somewhat unpleasant and unexpected, from a large mass of black teased hair enshrouding his face. He saw him bury his face in his hands as if his hair didn’t already and continued to laugh psychotically and uncontrollably. Any creature with ears would have revoked at the sound of his laughter, and I began to feel a prickle of fright dance up and down my arms.
I sat there besides him, watching the sad being go mad in his own presence. He must be high… I keep thinking as I watched him intensively, he’s so stoned…he must have been smoking something…maybe’s he’s just drunk, I watched him enter a fit of giggles …no, he’s too way out of it for just alcohol…..
After ten minutes he was still laughing, at least not hysterically, but it wasn’t even funny anymore. I thought that at any moment he was either going to have a seizure, convulsion, or asthma attack; yet strangely, I did not move from my spot. Something about him gave me pity; watching him lose his head with hysterical laughter all by his lonesome self it was. For a moment he seemed so fragile and hopeless, like a lost child.
He looked so small.
I felt I couldn’t leave him here alone. I knew he’d get himself in trouble somehow. Anyone would keep walking or steer clear away from him, but I sat less than a foot away from him and I felt fine. I felt I was right where I should be.
His smile was like that of a dog’s when they were panting, when they appeared to be smiling but it is only the shape of their snouts that gave them the appearance. His eyes were large and attentively interested at something behind blond bangs, and they were rimmed with dark make up all around his eye sockets. His teeth were not perfect in size yet symmetrically the same to its opposite, giving him an even more dog like appearance. Hi hair was black and teased and mangled; a large voluminous mass of tangled black that seemed untamed and reaching out in every direction. In front of his forehead there were blond bangs over his eyes.
“What’s your name?” I asked him carefully.
He was staring right at me as I ask him the question, but he only remained staring. Then he began rocking back and forth in the grass and his eyes went wandering. He seemed to be like a little kid with a short attention span. After a few moments, he answered.
“Josh.” He seemed to barely get it out. He continued wandering.
“Josh?”
He was silent; almost distracted.
“Josh...ua……Joshua…actually.” his London accent alternated his pronunciation of words.
“Joshua.” I repeated brazenly, mocking his accent.
I saw him bite his lip and an amused smile slowly creep across his face.
“Joshua Hayward.” He added, a little louder this time.
“Mr. Joshua Hayward!” I said boastingly. The smile turned into a grin and I heard a snort
behind the mass of hair.
“Joshua Von Grimm!” he whispered this time, observing me with joy.
“Sir Joshua. Von. Grimm.” I said in a perfect British accent.
It was then he suddenly broke out into psychotic laughter. The smile grew into an inane grin plastered across his face. He doubled over and for a few seconds did not make a sound. Then I began to hear high gasping noises, as if he couldn’t breathe, muffled behind black mass of hair. As his laughter grew louder and more spontaneous, I could not tell if he was laughing or crying. A crackle of high pitched sobs was what it sounded like, insane and somewhat unpleasant and unexpected, from a large mass of black teased hair enshrouding his face. He saw him bury his face in his hands as if his hair didn’t already and continued to laugh psychotically and uncontrollably. Any creature with ears would have revoked at the sound of his laughter, and I began to feel a prickle of fright dance up and down my arms.
I sat there besides him, watching the sad being go mad in his own presence. He must be high… I keep thinking as I watched him intensively, he’s so stoned…he must have been smoking something…maybe’s he’s just drunk, I watched him enter a fit of giggles …no, he’s too way out of it for just alcohol…..
After ten minutes he was still laughing, at least not hysterically, but it wasn’t even funny anymore. I thought that at any moment he was either going to have a seizure, convulsion, or asthma attack; yet strangely, I did not move from my spot. Something about him gave me pity; watching him lose his head with hysterical laughter all by his lonesome self it was. For a moment he seemed so fragile and hopeless, like a lost child.
He looked so small.
I felt I couldn’t leave him here alone. I knew he’d get himself in trouble somehow. Anyone would keep walking or steer clear away from him, but I sat less than a foot away from him and I felt fine. I felt I was right where I should be.