Post by tidal on May 2, 2008 15:58:37 GMT -5
Jake walked into the lounge, looking to see if anyone was around. It had been fairly quiet today. He was fairly new to the stables, so he was still finding things out, and exploring. Shrugging, Jake walked over to the window, and gazed out. The sunlight was shining through the pane, and hitting almost everything in the building. The rays reflected off of his pale skin, and bright blue eyes. Frowning, he turned himself around to face the room again. He slouched against the wall. I hate Spring and Summer. Sighing, he glanced over his left shoulder to look outside once more. He really didn't mind warm weather, he just hated it when it became humid, or hot. He loved fall, winter, and rainy Spring days.
Pressing the palms off his hands against the wall, he pushed off and strode over to the couch, and sat down. His hand fumbled in the pocket of his black sweater, which slightly revealed his Skillet T-shirt. Slowly, he pulled his hand back out, holding an old black Mp3 player with bright blue headphones. He stuck them in his ears, and turned the device on. Adjusting the volume, Jake brought his arm back down to rest on his knee, music player in hand. He layed his head down on the back of the sofa for a few moments, then brought it back up and pulled out a small sketch book from his jean pocket. How it fit in there, no one knows. The boy flipped through the pages to a sketch of a wolf walking alone through a forest. He grinned, and searched another pocket for a pencil. Slowly, he began defining the lines, and adding more trees in the background. Sighing, he crammed the book and pencil back in his pockets. He found no joy, or point in drawing these past weeks.
Jake turned the dial on his Mp3 player to the right, making it slightly louder. He repositioned himself on the couch, put his hood up, and layed his head back once more, but this time, he closed his eyes and sighed. And I find it kinda funny. I find it kinda sad. The dreams in which I'm dying are the best I've ever had. He frowned, but let the music continue. No one knew me, no one knew me. With that, he shot up, and turned the Mp3 player off. While zipping up his sweater, he crammed it into his pocket. The young boy let himself fall leftwards on the couch, where he lay quietly. With his right hand, he brushed up his forehead, and through his bangs. Sighing, he realized that he can't hide forever. He can't keep running. Anymore. His eyes, which were shut tightly, relaxed. I've got to start over. And I'm going to need to earn a few friendships...soon. Jake's eyes flicked back over to the door, hoping someone, anyone, would come through, arms wide, ready to give him a chance.
Pressing the palms off his hands against the wall, he pushed off and strode over to the couch, and sat down. His hand fumbled in the pocket of his black sweater, which slightly revealed his Skillet T-shirt. Slowly, he pulled his hand back out, holding an old black Mp3 player with bright blue headphones. He stuck them in his ears, and turned the device on. Adjusting the volume, Jake brought his arm back down to rest on his knee, music player in hand. He layed his head down on the back of the sofa for a few moments, then brought it back up and pulled out a small sketch book from his jean pocket. How it fit in there, no one knows. The boy flipped through the pages to a sketch of a wolf walking alone through a forest. He grinned, and searched another pocket for a pencil. Slowly, he began defining the lines, and adding more trees in the background. Sighing, he crammed the book and pencil back in his pockets. He found no joy, or point in drawing these past weeks.
Jake turned the dial on his Mp3 player to the right, making it slightly louder. He repositioned himself on the couch, put his hood up, and layed his head back once more, but this time, he closed his eyes and sighed. And I find it kinda funny. I find it kinda sad. The dreams in which I'm dying are the best I've ever had. He frowned, but let the music continue. No one knew me, no one knew me. With that, he shot up, and turned the Mp3 player off. While zipping up his sweater, he crammed it into his pocket. The young boy let himself fall leftwards on the couch, where he lay quietly. With his right hand, he brushed up his forehead, and through his bangs. Sighing, he realized that he can't hide forever. He can't keep running. Anymore. His eyes, which were shut tightly, relaxed. I've got to start over. And I'm going to need to earn a few friendships...soon. Jake's eyes flicked back over to the door, hoping someone, anyone, would come through, arms wide, ready to give him a chance.