#aaicoaa

It’s dark, cool and calming. It’s been like this for the last … he doesn’t know how long it’s been like this now that he’s thinking about it. Not that it matters, he’s happy here, well not really happy but he’s not sad, angry, scared or in pain. He doesn’t even miss his Mum, she died when his dad hit her on the head because she could not find his favorite vegetables for the stew. This made him very sad because it also meant that he wasn’t going to get that little brother or sister that his Mum said was only eleven sleeps away. Ok, now he’s angry at his dad.

Something is warm near his chest, whatever it is it’s not giving off any light, when his Mum and grandpa made stuff warm there was always a light. Suddenly the warm is replaced with seething, blinding pain he’s in too much pain to scream, he just gasps for breath as cold tears roll from the corner of his eyes. His back spasms and arches from the pain. By the time it stops he doesn’t know how long it lasted and can only think of moving away from where he has been ling, he decides to move up. He struggles to pull away the soft material hanging over him, and he moves upward.

It was a tight squeeze but he’s finally broke through the surface, when he gets to his shoulders, he pulls his arms out and hoist himself out up to his hips, and lays on the bare earth to catch his breath. He’s not sure what he was expecting but it wasn’t earth and grass. Breathing he realize is so much easier up here than even before the warmth. He pulls his legs out and wats for his eyes to adjust to the light.

“‘+*{{~’ is it?”

He spins around when he hears the deep voice behind him. There’s a tall man, well he thinks it’s a man it makes sense, being that tall and having a voice that deep, but he can’t see the face. ‘He’s ’ standing near a head-stone. It’s old and worn, it has that name on it and a date that’s me! He thinks I was 13, am 13?

“Well, is that your name?”

“No” he hears himself saying what?

“Aww, that’s a shame, where you buried in the wrong grave?” asks a new voice, it sounds old.

“um” he looks around, there is four counting him, the others are all waring ground length black hooded-robs with the hoods up, so he can’t see their faces but he can see the light glinting in their eyes, only it’s a different color for each of them. They are in a very old grave-yard, so old it’s been forgotten.

“You don’t need to keep it.” Says the third, their voice sounds young, not as young as him but still. They offer their hand to help him up.

He looks at the hand before accepting only to recoil seeing that the hand is just bones. He goes to get up on his own, but his knee fells weird under his hand so he looks down at himself for the first time and screams.

Panic floods his mind. His leg, his legs and feet are bone, his hands are bone, he’s wearing a long sleeved, formless black dress, he pushes up the sleeves his arms are bone, he opens the front of the dress to look at his chest it’s just bare, bone ribs. Too shocked, scared and confused to do anything else, he starts to sob, he can feel the tears run down his face and with out thinking he wipes them off his cheeks, he goes quite as he feels the bare bones of his hands drag across his naked cheek bones, he feels for his nose and mouth and when he can feel that they are just dry bone and teeth, Quietly, warm tears stream down his boney face and his shoulders shudder.

The younger one has sat beside him and wraps their arm around him reassuringly, and says “I know you’re confused but we’ll explain everything, can you tell us what you want us to call you?”

“It can be anything?”

“Yep!” they say with a smile.

He’s not sure how he knows their smiling.

“anything” says the tall one.

He thinks then sheepishly says “what about ‘Brant’?”

“If you like it, what right do we have to dispute it?” asks the old sounding one.

They are nice people thinks Brant, as he is helped to his feet. He is instructed to not forget what looks like an over-sized gran-scythe. By the tall one, that introduces themself as Third.

The old sounding one introduces herself as Bébinn.

And the younger one introduces himself as Mandla.

As they walk to the open-top horse-drawn carriage. And Brant can’t help but ask “what was that warm?”

“it’s what gave you the strength to move” answers Third as they hold the door of the carriage open.

Brant feels like that answer and the early after-noon sun-light is bringing peace to his mind.

i made a 2nd blog and it is just for my story, Absolutely Anyone is Capable of Absolutely Anything it well probley just be ‘text’ posts. mabe some art if i’m up to it,