Chapter 5--- Waking to Reality's Fantasy

2.8K 32 16
                                    

Vincent 

My heart raced, pumping blood into and around my veins with such urgency I felt faint and lightheaded. My lungs forced air in and out, my throat felt like a desert, so dry it hurt. I was sure my bare feet were being torn and cut as I battled to the shelter of my favorite hiding place.  I bet I ran faster than any other seven year old that lived here. This was all her fault, she made me hunt that rabbit, she ran off to her home with it without sharing or giving me time to wash my hands of it's blood.  Now, they chased me, thinking I was injured prey, they who turned against their master, and me, though I still have faith in them, it was only basic primal instinct. Uncontrolled and released of the leash into freedom. 

The vicious barks and growls chased me; they were like an echoing shadow.  Their paws crush into the soil beneath them, if the eyes where the windows to the soul, then these red-eyed creatures belonged in hell, they must be a pet of satin, hunting for souls to devour and drag into the underworld. Their black fur made them able to hide and camouflage in the night against the slight moonlight. Panic rushed over me like a burning fire, I force my feet to move faster, as fast as they could go with out snapping under pressure. 

All species capable of grasping this fact manage better in the struggle for existence than those which rely upon their own strength alone: the wolf, which hunts in a pack, has a greater chance of survival than the lion, which hunts alone. A hungry wolf at all the herd will run, In hopes, through many, to make sure of one.

I spotted light coming from my home.  I ran, recklessly. My mother seemed to be still awake. Completeness? Happiness? These words don't come close to describing my emotions. There truly is nothing I can say to capture what motherhood means to me, a mother's happiness is like a beacon, lighting up the future but reflected also on the past in the guise of fond memories.  A mother's arms are made of tenderness and children sleep soundly in them, lord knows I was dying to feel my mother's arms around me, cradling me to safety.

I no longer heard sounds of nightmarish hounds as I entered our high fence; they seemed to sense that there was more than one human living in this house. I walked slowly to catch my breath; I tried to be as quite as I could, I didn't want to disturb anyone...or anything.  I needed to be cautious, careless shepherd make excellent dinner for wolf.  

There was an unfamiliar carriage in our driveway, I studied it at a distance, curious at the guests I'll find in our house. Will there be only one, or have we more? I walked slowly over to the door, a swirl of worry swooned in my stomached. I decided to go the back way into the house; the door was unlocked, carelessly left open for strangers and monsters to enter. 

I wiped my feet on the grass outside before I entered so I didn't bring dirt in, the soles of my feet stung and clung with pain.  I felt like crying, but she said that crying isn't what boys should do, she'll call me weak. She looked like one of those porcelain dolls mother has in her room, her copper hair always pined up in a stylish bun. Her skin always soft and overly well kept. Her round glassy eyes, wide and observant to the world around her, such an oceanic blue.  Her lips ripe and glossy. She always dressed in the best she had, strangely able to keep ahead of fashion.  I'll prove that aristocratic figurine wrong, I was a man! I had a gun, I spit, I ride bareback on a horse, I play sports, maybe not with others so well, but I still play.  What did she do? She played dress up, imaginary tea parties, and stupid girly games. And complaining when we adventure in the forest.  At lest I can pee straight standing.

I slowly crept into the house, careful not to make a sound, not even letting my breath be herd. The kitchen was dark and shadows came alive from the moons glow.  It seemed like the whole house was asleep, yet a trail of lights were left on, like a passageway, it lead to the study.  I slid myself though the open gape of the door, all the lights were on, yet everyone seemed to be in the connecting room. I was never allowed in the study, I knew if I was found I'll get a spanking so bad I wont be able to sit down to eat dinner, probably have to do everything standing. I heard conversation heading my way; I quickly hide behind a draped curtain. I made myself freeze like a statue and as silent as the grave.

The Unwanted WeddingWhere stories live. Discover now