He started to write.
Tools marking parchment became a symphony. His headphones were non existent, yet he tapped along to a beat.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Once upon a time-
The ground began to rise-
He yelled, the voice was hoarse and unstudied-
But he was heard-
They learned his lesson.
He gasped jerking up. Looking around the room he realized he was at his desk. The same familiar pencil clasped between clammy fingers, same papers with the same drawl he started.
So why was his environment different?
Even though he sat at the same desk, the same pencil and story, he was somewhere else. His bland four walls seemed washed away. In there place stood nature.
He was in the middle of some intersection. Cobble cladded streets and horse drawn carriages veered past him. People walked by without any sort of surprise at the new foreigner that was situated in the middle of the street. The only living things that showed an attentive tore the boy where the animals.
Only the animals seemed to take a notice.
