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Location:
I am a flea, so I live on a dog.
Date of Birth:
May 5th, 1992 (32)
Gender:
Female
Registered:
Aug 10, 2005
Last Access:
Dec 22, 2008 |
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She stepped through his window, and peered at the boy she'd so often speak to over the years, in which she had lived in this Wasteland. It was early morning, late night, whatever you'd like to call it. Four forty-seven AM, his digital clock read. This girl had been traveling for what seemed like days, but it obviously couldn't have been, because the sun hasn't even come up yet once, since she left.
Kneeling by his bedside, she whispered in the ear of this boy, whose actual name she learned quite recently: Thjalfi. It was Norse, obviously, but she didn't quite know the backround behind it. In all the time she knew him, she'd call him "Frank", because that's the name he told everyone, most likely because it got frustrating over the years trying to tell people that the J in his name sounded something like a long E.
"Thjalfi, please do awaken. I have words for you," she whispered, but he stirred only a little. "Dear boy, it is urgent! Please wake up. I fear that we might never pass eachother ever again."
Eyes not yet opened, but easily recognizing the voice, he hoarsely said, "Marisol? How is it that you are here? You are not permitted out of your dwelling after the seventh ring past No Shadows!"
"I'm running away, Thjalfi. The place I live in is a madhouse, I tell you, and I cannot take it any longer. It has taken me three or four hours to walk here from my side of the community, so I am quite certain that within three days or so, I will be in the next village. Though, I am quite terrified of going this journey alone, and surely I will not live. Please, come with me."
"Tell me why."
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It's because the man says so.
Hmm. Who is it?
... Nice folder name, bee-tea-double-ya.
Jan 2, 2006 |
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