It's Just Too Easy (conclusion)

Her chin rested on the knees of her blue jeans.  "I know, but you don't."  A forlorn sound echoed in her voice, lost and sad. 

"How would you know that?" Aaron grumbled as he sat up to lean his back against the wall. He was hungry and there was food sitting right in front of him. It filled the air with salt, yeast and over-greased meat. A smell to bring anyone running and panting for a taste. It was the savory flavor of bad for you food that makes your mouth water. He opened the wrapper and attacked the first burger he grabbed out of the magical bag of delicacies.

"I've been watching you." She immediately held up her hands as he glared at her, "Not in the creepy stalker way. I mean I've followed you for the past couple years that you've been traveling."

"Oh and that's not like a stalker at all." He grumbled through a mouthful of fries.

"It's not when it's for research."

Images of test animals in cages appeared in Aaron's mind. He did not like the sound of that. He was nobody's Guinna pig. Then a new image appeared, one that interested him a lot more. It was a facility out on an island, but not filled with lab coats and crazy scientists. This image made him think of a training grounds. It could be a new experience, but how was he to know that this was real. A slight breeze brushed along the island sand. The image was so vivid it was as if he was already there. Seagulls called from mountain cliffs searching for food for their young. Aaron's bare feet carried him across warm, tropical sand. There was a melody in the air so peaceful, so calming. The sound of children laughing came from somewhere in the trees. This was a place he could stay forever. Someone was roasting a pig, he could smell the delicious pork. There was also the scent of fresh tropical fruits ripe and ready for the picking. "Yes." He said to himself, "This is where I want to be. A safe place where I can find peace at last."

"You ok?" Came a concerned voice from somewhere in the heavens.

Was he ok? He was more than ok, he had never felt better. All of his life, as far back as he could remember, he had been running. There was never a moments peace. At first it had seemed like everything was going to work out. His mother was sweet and understanding. She didn't know why her son was different but she protected him as a mother lion would protect her cub. When the other kids became vicious, she pulled him out of public school. When his father tried to kill him, she took him far away, moving west as far as they could go. The move had not been good for her. She got sick, very sick. He was only 9 at the time and didn't understand what was going on. He knew how to help her and would get whatever medicines he could. Things would simply come to his mind and he would know what she needed. The problem was that he also knew that she was going to die. She only lived a few months after that, and then he was on his own. People don't like when you're different. They can be cruel and distrusting. Aaron learned that the easiest way to deal with people was to avoid them. That worked well for the past two years, until today.

"I can't read your mind. Dude? Guy? Person? I don't know your name. Are you alright?"

Blinking back to reality Aaron smiled for the first time in years. "I'm more then alright. I feel..." What could he say? Great sounded to common. Peaceful wasn't the right word either. There was a whirl of emotions from happy to calm to ecstatic. How could he even begin to describe how he was feeling?

"I know you may already know this but I was wondering if you would like to come with me. I can make sure you never have to run again." She smiled sweetly, "I know it's hard, as I said before, I've been watching you. You are not the only one who is..." she paused, as if unsure of the right word to use, "different. There are others. I had to be sure before I approached you. If you come with me you will never have to run again."

She made so much sense and she was cute too. He didn't even have to think about it, he simply held out his hand in agreement. She smiled and shook his hand.

"I'm glad you're coming willingly." She smiled innocently as he felt a needle puncture his wrist. Immediately he felt the effects of some type of drug, collapsing to the ground. Everything went black, but even in the blackness he could still hear the sounds of music. He could still smell the roasting pig. Paradise. That was what she promised. She had known of his ability. Of course she would have, she'd been tracking him for over 2 years.

When he awoke, he was behind bars in some type of lab. The same lab he had seen the first time, before the beach scene became so overwhelming. There were others, in similar cages. Some were yelling, some crying, but most sat back with a look of deep sadness in their eyes. Those were the ones that knew their fate and accepted it. The light was gone from their eyes. They would never fight even if freed and given the chance. Aaron would not let them break him. He knew this place. Actually, he knew everything. The dream had been compelling but he knew it was fake. Just as he knew that there was a hidden hole connected to his cell. An opening that was so well hidden his captives had never found it. It was a hole that connected to an underground tunnel. A tunnel he could use to escape at anytime. He knew he would escape, without any problems. He didn't know how he knew, but he knew. These things just came to him. They knew that he knew things. What they didn't know was how much he actually knew.

THE END

It's just too easy pt 3

...Aaron's life just got a lot more complicated. At least, until he found a way to shake her off.

Aaron laid there, his head pillowed by nothing but concrete.  The girl had left as soon as he had opened his mouth to start answering her question.  It was almost as if she had known his answer.  Was it possible that she was like him?  No, he would have known if that was true.  She was simply smart and intuitive.  It was pointless to run or hide.  If she was going to find him anyways, then any effort would all be wasted. 

Aaron was not one to fight a losing battle.  He had lived his life by flying under the radar.  Life had no purpose other than simply existing.  That was good enough for him.  Being noticed always led to hatred, mobs and sometimes jail.  never again.  Avoiding people seemed the safest answer.

Not even thirty minutes, after she had left, passed before he heard her soft footsteps returning.  There was a smell of unhealthy grease in the air as a red and white paper bag was dropped by his head.  Aaron's stomach growled.

"Figured you were hungry.  Lookls like I was right."  She stated mater of factly.

Without moving or even opening his eyes, Aaron muttered.  "I never asked for anything.  I can feed myself, if I so choose."

The girl plopped down on the other side of the alley.  She pulled her legs close to her chest with her arms wrapped around.  Her chin rested on the knees of her blue jeans.  "I know, but you don't."  A forlorn sound echoed in her voice, lost and sad.  ~to be concluded~

It's Just Too Easy pt 2

...So there he sleeps, in an alley, alone and ignored.

"Hi", a high pitch chirp announced. There was a long silence, Aaron didn't look up from where he was laying. A small finger tapped the black woven beanie on top of his head.

"Hi", the voice said again, a little annoyed.

Aaron slowly leaned his head back, opening his eyes. At first, all he saw was the blurred halo of a face. Slowly he blinked a couple times. The face of a young girl cam into focus. He figured she could be anywhere between the ages of 12 and 14. Her mouse brown hair hung past her shoulders, brushing his cheek as she swayed back and forth. She was leaning over him, a look of mild concern on her face. If he had been a normal boy, he may have either snapped at her to mind her own business or asked her what she wanted. Instead, he simply stared at her.

He didn't have to concentrate all that hard to learn what she wanted. It simply came to him in his mind. 'She's worried about me, wants to buy me food and give me clothes. She has a good heart.' Aaron sighed, people with good hearts are always the hardest to deal with. Why couldn't she just leave him alone? 'She also has a lot of questions.' He thought, 'I hate questions.'

Without even thinking he mumbled, "no thanks. I'm not hungry and these cloths work just fine for now."

"I didn't say anything about that." She said suspiciously.

Aaron laid his head back on the concrete, his body stretched out next to the alley wall. Closing his eyes he thought, 'Here we go again.' Too much knowledge can get a person in a lot of trouble. That's the reason he was in his current predicament in the first place. It always started out innocent, but before you knew it, you were kicked out of another town or city or whatever.

"So do you?" She asked impatiently.

Aaron's eyes popped open. He studied her innocent face. 'She still wants to buy me food. She still has questions but...' His response came out more curt and bitter than he expected. "I already answered." He figured if he ignored her, she would go away. At least, he would have figured that, if he didn't already know.

The knowledge came to him in a rush of thoughts and images. 'She's not going to leave.' He concluded. 'If I don't go with her, she will bring food here. If I take off, she will search around until she finds me. She will find me.' He knew it. He didn't know HOW he knew, but as with everything else, he simply knew. Aaron's life just got a lot more complicated. At least, until he found a way to shake her off.

~to be continued~ (on Saturday)

It's Just Too Easy

Aaron was a slender boy of 16. He looked malnourished. His cheeks were sunken in beneath eyes that were a dull blue, having lost their sparkle years ago. His pepper blond hair was shoulder length and scraggly. There was a shadow of an incoming beard, now 2 months in the making. It was easy to ignore him, passing by with out a thought. If someone happened to notice him in a worn Alan Jackson t-shirt and torn faded jeans he had acquired out of a dumpster somewhere, they would cross to the other side of the street, saying something like, "Another alcoholic bum", or "That's what drugs'll do to ya." Reading this you may begin to wonder what this youth had done to bring upon such a life. He didn't, not in the way you're thinking. You may even begin to feel sorry for him. Don't. Your pity and worry are fleeting. I know because day after day good people like you walk on the other side of the street to avoid being asked for money. You know it's true. Nevermind the fact that he would not ask. One look at him and people like you already think you know him. So there he sleeps, in an alley, alone and ignored.

"Hi."

~to be continued~

Death of a dormouse

MARTHA:

When I was a young girl, I had a pet. Not many young girls had pets of their own. There’d be family pets or pets that belonged to one of the parents. Boys would have pets. Albeit most mothers didn’t know half the pets their boys would keep in the house. Rats from under the floorboards, bugs out of the garden, frogs from a scum filled creek or marsh, snakes and even flies. Boys could have pets, but girls? Girls were pretty. They played with dolls and had tea parties. If they had a pet it would be a Poodle, Pomeranian or maybe a fluffy Persian cat. Not me. I got me a dormouse. My parents didn’t mind or at least my mother didn’t. She said it was good to broaden my horizons and try new things. A pet was an important responsibility that would teach me life lessons or something like that. I agreed with everything she said, anything to get me a pet. I named her Daisy, because that’s how she smelled. She was a beautiful flower of a mouse, with deep, beady black eyes. She was smart too. We did everything together. I would color or do my homework and Daisy would scamper back and forth watching me. She would follow the pencil with her nose, almost catlike. She helped me play the piano, even though she didn’t weigh enough to push down any of the keys. I’d even take her for walks in my jacket pocket. She loved being in my pocket. We could go in the kitchen, out to the market or even school and nobody would know she was there. My step-daddy never liked her though, I could tell. He never said anything, never yelled or nothin’. Sometimes he would even smile when Daisy’d do some neat trick or scamper up my arm. I didn’t know it then, but it was all an act. Secretly he’d been plotting a way to rid himself of my dormouse. Then one day momma found rat droppings near the flour. Well my Step-daddy ddin’t want no rodents getting’ into our food so he ran to the garage. When he came back, he was holdin’ some type of poison. Momma told him not to spray it out, but he didn’t listen. We had to leave the house for nearly the WHOLE day. I tried to find Daisy but my step-daddy’d already sprayed the house and we had to go NOW. Momma dragged me out kicken’ and screamen’, but she hauled me out anyways. That was when I heard the squeak. Daisy ran cross the living room to the door I was standing at and I picked her up right before Momma grabbed my elbow and yanked me out of the house. I didn’t notice until a few days later that Daisy was acting real strange. She wasn’t as fast or smart as she used to be. She’d even leave messes all over the place for me to clean up. You know, the type of messes people don’t like to talk about, the messes people make in the bathroom. Anyways, three days later she was dead. I yelled at my step-father, calling him every name I could think of. “Murderer!” I’d shout anytime I saw him. For weeks I followed him around, “You killed my mouse. You did it on purpose. You’re a filthy murderer.” Since that day, I cannot think of death, without thinking of that nasty guilt I shot at my step-father.

****************************************************************************

“Deaths dark door creaked daintily open in gradual progression. Defenses were down dispensing the desired response. She screamed. She cried. Nothing could deter the dauntingly despicable dread deaths daring entrance had deliberately caused. Distractedly she drew a breath dispersing dreadful thoughts. Daisy, her delicate delightful pet dormouse, died that day of a definitely deliberate predicament. Her despotic but daft stepfather had delivered deadly poison deceitfully delighting in dispatching destruction. Depression drowned her distracted mind dispatching disgust, distress and dreadful doubt. Despite diplomatic diligence designed to dispel despair, his exhausted declarations landed on deaf, disappointed ears. His decadent decorum was driving her daunting mind delirious. Despair caused debatable decision, from distinguished distress, to demonstrate deliberate disapproval of his devilish deed.”