IP: 86.3.232.251
Posted on June 20, 2010 at 05:54:00 PM by Flynn & Denahi
The twins had been asleep for a while, and Flynn was sitting on the bed, one of his leather-bound books clutched him his hands, with Denahi asleep at his feet. Blue eyes, identical to those of this father scanned each line of text and absorbed each word. Flynn loved reading, especially poetry, he loved the feel of some words on his tongue, he adored the elements of escapism in some of the things he read and how the emotions of the writers seemed to dance across the pages as if it were a canvas and they the brightly coloured paints. The only thing Flynn enjoyed more than his books, was sitting beneath the moon, and simply watching the silver face when it managed to push its way out from between the clouds. The husky puppy’s paws began to twitch, a small series of whimpers escaping his maw as he dreamed of who-knows-what. The black-haired boy smiled to himself, resting a soothing hand on the familiar’s head and soon the canine lay still once more. The wooden door creaked, and Flynn looked up, eyes falling upon the familiar face and form of his mother. He offered her a smile, a small curling of the lips, whilst wondering why she was here so soon after their father had left in order to return to her in the Labyrinth. Unlike the twins, Flynn could remember a time when things between his parents had not been smooth sailing. It was only now that they were happy again that he was able to identify what it had been like when they weren’t. He remembered the tension which had hung over the home, of spending time with his Mum and then his Dad, but very rarely both together, and when it was, everything had seemed so forced. He also had vague recollections of a mother who had blown hot and cold with him when he had been younger, and it was perhaps for this reason that Flynn, unlike Renn who adored the attention of her parents, liked it just as well when they left him alone. As Candil slipped into the room, Flynn moved along the bed in order to make space for her to sit down, marking his place in the book he was reading with the red ribbon attached to the cover and offering her his full attention. There was something amiss, some form of glaze to her eyes, the pupils expanding and contracting as if she was having trouble focusing. The boy was just about to ask her if she was well, when he felt her fingers running through his dark mop of hair, and as she went to pull him closer towards her, Flynn pulled away, getting to his feet and crossing the room. “Don’t” he said simply, shaking his head as he gazed at her. He had never been a child who sought hugs from his parents, not that he could remember anyway and no one had pushed him to accept them. “I don’t like it.” Show me what its like to dream in black and white |
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