Post by Peter Kirkland on Mar 26, 2012 19:58:09 GMT
The boy known as Peter Kirkland blinked himself awake, staring up at the ceiling of his little shack. The sound of waves crashing against the shore echoed in his head, making the boy smile. He sat up, looking blearily around, and his eyes settled on his backpack. A surge of terror shot through him. When had it fallen off? Did he still have everything? He opened it swiftly, digging through the small bag. Satisfied that he wasn't missing anything, he shut the clasp again and swung it around his shoulders, getting to his feet. After a quick glance into the piece of reflective glass he called a mirror, he stumbled outside, suddenly tripping into a strong gust of wind.
"No need to be like that! I'm up, I promise!" Almost as if in response, the wind slowed slightly, allowing him to work his way to the edge of the outcropping and hop down the few feet to the seaside. His feet were just touching the waves, but he resisted the urge to kick off his boots and walk into the surf. Instead, he shook his head, sighing, and started to speak, softly at first.
"I had the same dream last night. That fire." The ocean crashed in response. "I just keep feeling so helpless... It's like someone is trying to help me." He paused, staring down at his boots. "I feel like somebody is there, trying to get me out, but I'm pushing them away." Peter swallowed thickly, continuing a little louder. "Why would I do that? I can... I can accept help, can't I? Even if it's my dream, I should be allowed to accept help. Right?" There was no answer from the waves, only a consistent ebb and flow. Peter rubbed at his forehead, laughing slightly.
"The kids at school keep calling me 'Sea'. Just because I talk to you all the time." Peter let out a loud laugh, before covering his mouth. Who knows who would be out at this time? "I mean, really... I think it's a silly name. But it reminds me of something... I'm not sure what..." The boy paused again. "... You can call me Sea if you want." He heard a crack from behind him, and the blue-eyed boy turned, seeing a stranger on the top of the outcropping, a few feet taller than him even without the extra height. His mouth refused to work for a moment before he finally spoke.
"I-I'm sorry, sir, I'll just be going."
"No need to be like that! I'm up, I promise!" Almost as if in response, the wind slowed slightly, allowing him to work his way to the edge of the outcropping and hop down the few feet to the seaside. His feet were just touching the waves, but he resisted the urge to kick off his boots and walk into the surf. Instead, he shook his head, sighing, and started to speak, softly at first.
"I had the same dream last night. That fire." The ocean crashed in response. "I just keep feeling so helpless... It's like someone is trying to help me." He paused, staring down at his boots. "I feel like somebody is there, trying to get me out, but I'm pushing them away." Peter swallowed thickly, continuing a little louder. "Why would I do that? I can... I can accept help, can't I? Even if it's my dream, I should be allowed to accept help. Right?" There was no answer from the waves, only a consistent ebb and flow. Peter rubbed at his forehead, laughing slightly.
"The kids at school keep calling me 'Sea'. Just because I talk to you all the time." Peter let out a loud laugh, before covering his mouth. Who knows who would be out at this time? "I mean, really... I think it's a silly name. But it reminds me of something... I'm not sure what..." The boy paused again. "... You can call me Sea if you want." He heard a crack from behind him, and the blue-eyed boy turned, seeing a stranger on the top of the outcropping, a few feet taller than him even without the extra height. His mouth refused to work for a moment before he finally spoke.
"I-I'm sorry, sir, I'll just be going."
