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...1... Shadows in the Dusk
A young man of average height, wearing a heavy black pea coat stands alone in a cemetery. Rows of tombstones, seemingly endless, were lined horizontally throughout the graveyard, all had been aged with time. However, the grave before the young man in the pea coat was aberrant by all means. The color of the tombstone, an argent white that seemed to almost shine in the glare of the sun. He stood a few feet from the grave, his shadow on the other hand reached the base of the headstone. His hair, an aggregate of brown and black values, swayed madly like a plastic bag in a rushed gale of wind. The young man's eyes seemed dull, a low tone of blue and gray. His eyes. Seemingly lifeless orbs that peered into the grave before himself. Clenched tightly in his hands was an amply packed bouquet of flowers, ranging from roses to lilies. He forced his body to take a few steps toward the grave then fell to his knees, the bouquet was slightly released from the tight grasp. Tears came now. A multitude of clear droplets slid down his pale face, they were a sign of life in his placid eyes. He slowly lifted his arm and extended it toward the tombstone, the bouquet slanted forward and seemed to become an extension of his arm. Words were mumbled behind a choked voice, and then repeated until he could no longer speak. Without warning an eerie force seemed to grasp his wrist and pull down on it, he dropped the bouquet at the base of the headstone. The young man was on his feet promptly, gazing at his arm. What had grabbed his hand? He pondered for a time then returned to his previous thoughts, he held the approaching tears back, he would not submit to his anguish again. To the clouded sky his eyes soared, he couldn't bare the sight of the names on the tombstone, Torroto. Roger and Ann Torroto, his parents, both buried under the same tombstone, Torroto, the name he had know for so long. This name, Torroto, seemed to vanish before his eyes after his parents had died. Only four weeks earlier his parents had died in a disastrous train incident, leaving him only with his grandfather. The young man thought about his name, Ilan Torroto. He thought, could it really exist anymore, was he real anymore with no parents and only a grandfather who barely had an ounce of life left in him. A strong feeling of relief rushed through his body, like a canoe darting throughout a raging river. He shook the notion away, it was absolutely absurd, of course he would remain in existence. In the distance he caught the slight sound of metal clank against the stone of a headstone. Through the corner of his eyes he caught a glimpse of the blurred anatomy of what seemed to duplicate a tall human. With a swift movement of his body he turned to face the conundrum of what he had seen. Nothing. Absolutely nothing. Ilan frowned then started aloud in a apathetic tone, “Maybe I'm going insane.” He slowly forced his feet to move, one and then the other until he managed his way out of the cemetery. A flat and large square of decrepit cement that was slightly slanted and upon a mild hill served as a parking lot. Two vehicles, both meager compared to the fresh “master's of the roads” seen on countless daily commercials. One, parked strangely in the middle was a dirty shade of maroon, the tires were bedraggled. This vehicle was not Ilan's. Directly across from the other vehicle was a dull shade of yellow, however the doors remained the original bright yellow. Ilan moved his right hand into the side pocket of his pea coat, he slowly removed an assortment of oddly shaped keys. He sorted through them until he located a short key, he slid the key into the hole in the bright yellow door. Within a few moments he was inside the car, starting the ignition, and slamming the door shut.
The road, slick from a recent rush on by flurries, was rough on the vehicles tires. Ilan peered out of the front window, activating the windshield wipers to brush away some of the flurries that had fallen earlier. Traffic became slow as more flurries rain down, getting slightly heavier, however, it rained down at a hasty pace. About half an hour later he pulled up at a small building, a sign with an enlarged coffee mug beside a tall glass of light brown tea. After parking in a slanted position, he opened the door then stretched his legs out of the door, then yawned. Ilan shut the door then headed for the entrance of the building. As he entered the restaurant the ecstatic eyes of a blonde hostess shot to his face. A loud and joyful phrase of words struck his ears, “Good morning, welcome to Brimstone Brewery!” Ilan tried to evade a conversation with a mumbled, “Hi.” She started to come around the hostess stand when another voice rang out Ilan's name. The hostess turned to see a young lady with long dark brown hair, she wore a white blouse on top of an olive green long sleeved shirt, and a short orange and red skirt. Ilan began to walk towards the lady in the multi-colored outfit after noticing that the hostess had backed down. After greeting each other with a long hug they sat down at a circular maroon table, the chairs were light red. Ilan had slipped off his slipped off his coat and laid it on the chair before either had sat down. She looked at Ilan in a sincere way then cleared her throat, “So how are...I mean...how are you handling things?”
Ilan began to frown, “Well...it's definitely been hard...I mean how am I supposed to handle my parent's death?”
“No, that's not what...never mind Ilan. Well are you busy this afternoon?”
“I'm going home, I'll probably just go to sleep. What about you?”
She sighed, “Well I was hoping we could, I don't know, see a movie or something.”
“Aren't you still with what's his face?”
“Yeah but we could go as friends, I'm sure Reed would be fine with it.”
“I think I'll pass tonight, I'd rather”, he was cut off by her sneer.
“Don't be like that Ilan, I know it's only been four weeks but...I think it's better if you spend time with others, to help you get over things.”
Ilan seemed to have become flustered, “Julia, I don't want to get over”, once again he was interrupted but this time by a server with a squeaky voice, she wanted his order. He named a special type of sandwich off the top of his head and a green tea. Julia glanced at the menu then named a sandwich and an herbal tea. Ilan gave a weak smile to the server as she headed into the kitchen, her ordered could be heard from there table. Julia looked into Ilan's eyes and blushed as he stared back into her dark blue eyes. “What is it, is there something on my face”, she stammered.
“No...nothing at all.” He steered his eyes away as he laughed.
“Well, I wish you'd reconsider coming to the movies with me tonight.”
“Ah...alright, call me tonight and I'll see...depends on how I'm feeling.”
She raised her arms and rejoiced with a rather loud, “YES”, calling the attention of all eyes of the others in the restaurant. She quickly lowered her arms, a feeling of embarrassment rolled over her. Ilan snickered for a quick second then stopped when he felt the end of her shoe collide with his knee.
“Ow! What was that for?”
“That was for laughing at me!”
Their lunch came soon afterwards, they finished up then continued some aimless conversation then headed out of the restaurant. He said his goodbyes as she entered her fresh, “master of the road”, which was gargantuan in comparison to his own car. As she drove off he, again, heard the sound of metal clank against the brick of the building behind him. Ilan turned quickly to the building behind him, with a movement of great haste the figure from the cemetery flew over his head. A black cloak that seemed nearly three times the size of the figure in both length and width cast a dark shadow over his body. The figure grasped hold of a nearby street lamp at its center with one slightly tan hand, a pair of long legs, caped in black leggings, were placed against the pole for support. The large black cloak seemed to almost be slowed in motion as it swayed aimlessly in the wind. Ilan's dark brown eyes scanned the figure, slowly from the cloak, then to the legs, the grasping hand, and then onto the face of the figure. He was taken aback by the sheer beauty of the cloaked one's face, it was a woman. She had a head of long hair that at the top spiked off in random directions and slowly became straight, ending with two long strips both ten inches long. The color of the hair was a vibrant blooming red infused with a dull orange that created a enchanting color. The woman had perfectly curved eye sockets, the cornea of her eyes were a fulgent white, and the pupil was black surrounded by a brilliant green iris. The women peered through Ilan's eyes and into his soul, he could her searching for something. He decided to engage her with a question, “Who are you?”
 Dual blader · Sun Nov 25, 2007 @ 04:41am · 3 Comments |
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