The Lost Boy

Her thoughts race through the time, avoiding the present and the past, to an infinite future, to find the missing boy who had nothing but sad brown eyes and a lonesome tear. He was the lost boy. The images how he might look when he grows up, spanning his height with only her imagination. The process of strengthening of his cheekbones and the tight jaws, she found him in her thoughts. The place is weird, disgusting and there he is, all grown up and strong but still lost.

It’s a windy evening, wild are the clouds howling, he covers his palms in front of his face, well built and wearing a suit, he leans on the wall that had been his nightmare, a wall where there was no pretty graffities nor the new paints, it was plagued with the urine stink and abusive words; wrinkling his nose, he grimaced at the sight. It was a lonely lane bereft of civilization, tons of waste dumped in abandoned site, flicks of fire still persistent in the strong wind from the ashes on the left of the dry leaves. The huge place was his own, memories of his past was vivid and clear.

lost boy, fiction, dreams, literary fiction

As a boy, he was a lost, this place sheltered him for over a decade, a smirk playing on his face, he advances to the bunch of ravens feeding off the dead racoon. Whooshing them away, he dug the ground beside it, gravel of wet sand collumating in the insides of his nails, he didn’t flinch. A few minutes of digging up, he placed the dead racoon which was -swarmed by the noisy flies and the intestines strewn apart-into the hole. Filling it up again, he sang a forlorn, for the lost lives and the blessed ones. The ravens peck under the crook of their wings, starving for the dead and rotten.

He smiled at the finished grave, collected a few pebbles and embarked it on the tiny grave. He whispered with a low voice.

“When I die, None will do this for me. So get into a deep slumber and rest, for I believe I made a comfy one for you” He spoke to the dead.

Having none on his side, his brown eyes are still sad, he feels someone watching over him, he felt a sense of deprived privacy at a moment that was precious for him. His pupils searched for any presence of humans around, it were just some more racoons and ravens, the arrival of the eagles wasn’t too far. He got up, creased his shirt and rubbed away the dirt on his knees and elbows, the mud in his nails still remained but more than that, the lingering feeling of eyes watching him brought in a feeling of unease in him.

The suit he wore wasn’t new, it wasn’t his either, it was just another almost good thing from the garbage site, torn and worn out, he still looked better from the stinking ragged clothes that we wore diligently for three straight years. He winced at his plight, alone and abandoned, he grimaced. But then, his heart shook to the loud thundrous sound erupting beneath his legs, it was sudden, a vibration that he had never once experienced. He stumbled and held on the rags from the heap but still the ground never supported him. It shook until he fell, the wild winds slashed his face with sharp drops of rain. Feared of the unknown, he succumbed to the nature’s law as the land beneath him opened up and gravity did it’s duty. Into the abyss, he fell, a victim of the nature’s wrath, but he still breathed, inside his own grave.

He was barely conscious but breathing made him suffer, the long intake of absent air and the churning suffocation down his throat to his lungs seemed to increase with every passing minute. He tried to move his limbs, he knew they were broken, with the excruciating pain binding his life, he let out a sigh. His dream had come true. It was to die wearing a suit. Life never got his metaphorical wish, it just gave him what he asked for. Inside the debris of the earthquake mess, he breathed his last, none to care, none to cry. Nature had buried him for his acts of being nice to his fellow beings after their deaths.

On the grave, a few raccoons, ravens and eagles dropped some pebbles.

She stirred violently in her sleep, her dream was bizarre and scary, loathsome and tragic. She hated her sleep for they weren’t mere dreams, none believed it when she said that she could see the future of one’s death, it was all a lie, they concluded. But she had seen her aunt die in an accident, every granulating detail was seen in her dreams, ten years down the time, her aunt met the exact fate, with her hands broken in a grotesque manner and her throat slit due to the glass.

It wasn’t only her aunt, she was able to see the death of anyone she chose to, it was a gift that she mastered over the years. It brought her only fear and today she was thinking about the boy she had seen in the subway a few days ago, begging, with sad brown eyes and a deprived smile. So he would end this way, she  sighed. Her gift was a bane indeed. She searched for him everywhere, the results were futile. The fate of the lost boy was already known but she could never change it, ever.
photo credit: Primary forest. via photopin (license)


3 thoughts on “The Lost Boy

  1. Kumar Harsh says:

    You have thi amazing talent to play with words. 😊

    Liked by 1 person

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