Rust and Boots
1/1
Looking up at the hole in the room that had long since been created and cared for by rust, until it had become it's own window into the outside world. The tangy smell of the rust penetrating every breath. Dust danced in the sunbeams that descended through the clouds and glass to give her a kind of show.
And it was all going to be gone soon.
She wished she would be lucky enough to say that she was moving. At least if she was moving than she wouldn't have be near it or think about it all the time. Instead it was going to be a constant reminder to her: so close and so far.
Not that it would ever stop her from coming in all reality. She would just have to be more careful about it and that was something she knew that she could do. A smirk tipped the corner of her lip upwards as she toyed with the straw cowboy hat resting on her boots. This place belonged to her.
The tangled grasses.
The rocky dirt.
The clear skies.
The rusty truck.
Her grandfather had promised she could have it all and now her parents were making him a liar again. They had had that bad habit ever since she was a little girl. It was as if they lived for it. Logic told her that wasn't the case, but logic was damned when it came to her birthright.
Reaching down, she pulled out an empty pop can and threw it out the rusted sunroof watching as stray droplets of coke seemed to suspend in the air for a moment before they started to tumble and spiral back towards the ground. It was something she had learned from her grandfather, a way to watch time and try to understand it.
All she had ever really understood was the meaning of the memories they had been making. And she wasn't going to lose those. Especially not after all the time she had spent in the hospital putting up with the smell of formaldehyde and the blinding twinge of off-white walls. Even worse had been the funeral of black. Faces that had been stone or smiling with the joy of getting to see some they hadn't spoken to in ages.
She had stayed only until they had left the church veering off to the place that she had thought would always be hers.
So much for thinking.
And it was all going to be gone soon.
She wished she would be lucky enough to say that she was moving. At least if she was moving than she wouldn't have be near it or think about it all the time. Instead it was going to be a constant reminder to her: so close and so far.
Not that it would ever stop her from coming in all reality. She would just have to be more careful about it and that was something she knew that she could do. A smirk tipped the corner of her lip upwards as she toyed with the straw cowboy hat resting on her boots. This place belonged to her.
The tangled grasses.
The rocky dirt.
The clear skies.
The rusty truck.
Her grandfather had promised she could have it all and now her parents were making him a liar again. They had had that bad habit ever since she was a little girl. It was as if they lived for it. Logic told her that wasn't the case, but logic was damned when it came to her birthright.
Reaching down, she pulled out an empty pop can and threw it out the rusted sunroof watching as stray droplets of coke seemed to suspend in the air for a moment before they started to tumble and spiral back towards the ground. It was something she had learned from her grandfather, a way to watch time and try to understand it.
All she had ever really understood was the meaning of the memories they had been making. And she wasn't going to lose those. Especially not after all the time she had spent in the hospital putting up with the smell of formaldehyde and the blinding twinge of off-white walls. Even worse had been the funeral of black. Faces that had been stone or smiling with the joy of getting to see some they hadn't spoken to in ages.
She had stayed only until they had left the church veering off to the place that she had thought would always be hers.
So much for thinking.
♠ ♠ ♠
Alright so I decided to do a few one shots before I bring all of these characters together so think of them as prologues but not if that makes any sense.