| BONE | i'm meaner than my demons
i'm bigger than these bones |
He had to have come from somewhere. He was more than a name; or maybe that's all he had ever been. Fragments and memories find their way into his head, twisted and diluted in many ways. Memories, false or otherwise, can be confusing; especially when you are young and trying to piece them together from nothing. The blood from the strike upon the rock when the ocean had spat him out still reddened the pale hair around his ears, once stark lines dying down the side of his cheek. His body was marred by a myriad of pale pink scars. Surely he was someone.
"Bone," she whispers.
He doesn't know who she is.
"Like bones in the sun," the voice is harsher now.
His ears flatten against his neck.
The salt water had been a welcome cleansing for whatever fresh cuts had remained on his cream coat, but he did have to admit that it stung. A painful reminder that whatever had happened before his arrival, he was alive. (He was sure of this.) And while he found himself marked and muddled again, he was not looking forward to the creeping chill of the autumn water. He was stubborn, but he wasn't a fool. He stared down at his reflection, snorting a ripple a cross the water.
Who the hell are you?
He doesn't know who he is. |
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