Status: This is my first story in English and on here, so forgive me for all the expected typos and other stuff, idk.

Between the Doors

Then came winter

He takes a breath, and he is breathing, swallowing air until he isn't breathing anymore. Joshua is lying at Danneels side in the backseat both of them tucked away safely and away from the roughest of the cold, Joshua is holding his breath and closing his eyes. Playing pretend, he is underwater, and he can't see it's a dizzy haze, but small bubbles are sliding up to the surface. For a moment in his imagination, he is barely laughing.

Then suddenly without a warning he is swallowing sacred water.

So Danneel ends up shaking him with a scarred left hand and a nightmare dancing across the ceiling of her mind, and her brother wandering at his.

Joshua is playing pretend, but their car is wet and in the middle of a road, an tube is formed. Their fast dusty car has become a fish tube, and there is clown fishes dancing, singing.

They can't breath, only feel the adrenaline rising over this car and their hearts, can only feel the heartbeat rise over this place, with a fastening not so steady beat.

Shaking hands are clamping at the car door but it won't get up, they can't breath, they are not breathing. Oh how humans can never be a fish and they can never be human, this is the space between us and them and it's opening up in a cars gateway.

Danneel let's go of this and grip onto her faith, also she grips onto her brother with the smirking smile and the brownish hair and let him be, because he is only pretending to sleep, right?

Two bodies they are, two minds they are and two blood veins pumping in a fast beat, faster, even faster and then

An explosion of everything the siblings are and this home explodes, and they explode, the water disappears, their heartbeats keeping the beat fast and not at all in a steady rhythm, making a nervous state of being in this car, existing in this car.

Did it even happen or is the seats just wet.
♠ ♠ ♠
Dude, I totally suck I'm such a damn wanna be a writer cliche, I can't write, and when I do I write these damn short stories, I suck.