“A whispering or rustling sound; the indistinct sound of people whispering.”
Amidst the wind, inside the crevices of the oh-so great Europe, there was a boy. A young boy, born into wealth and status. Scolded by his peers and loved by none other than his own mother. However, this joy wouldn’t last perpetually, as his parents would ultimately pass. Leaving him, that same boy, with an empty hole deep within, solidifying that the damage had already been done.
The boy would always quietly listen to the echoes of the lively children, almost as if a ritual of sorts. Pondering whether or not he was fit to be in such a prestigious academy. Just then, a group of joyful children swam through their school hallways, their chattering echoing powerfully. The entirety of the estate-like school was also known to be nearly as vast as an endless tunnel.
Various children of various families attended the school, varying from the ages of twelve and fourteen. Conversing with one another as the bells ringed powerfully through the school halls. Although, one child stood eerie amongst the other, a small boy who sat steadily as the others exited for recess. Seated by a nearby window, the dazzling sun glistering over the horizon, the child patterning in a rhythmic sequence on the school window's frame. Their sheeny lengthy pitch-black hair reflecting the sun's brilliant glare, not to mention the aura of which protruded from the child dressed with sovereign-like clothing. As they silently emitted such marvelous atmosphere all from simply remaining seated.
"Basil!" bellowed the teacher.
He did not respond. Subconsciously stuck loosely daydreaming about his life as of now. A boy who was allowed one weekly glimpse of sunlight, the one & only time Basil was allowed outside. His life was far from perfect. It only truly got better every time he felt the gentle embrace of his mother’s fingers glide softly through his hair. Though, we know how that turned out. Snapping back to the present, the teacher’s beckons grabbing his attention. He glared at the long-legged petite female instructor. She gripped the child's wrist with fierce strength, with the child opposing the instructor's orders. Hauling the boy over as the legions of children continued their mindless chatter.
The teacher darted towards the outdoor entrance, the sun nearly blinding the poor child. The boy then would raise his palm to combat the glistening solar rays. The instructor would remove the boy’s hand from his face with a stern warning, forcing him to go play with the others his age. An indistinct amount of shadowy figures then grew under Basil faster than he could perceive. They were observing. The shadows lurking where he did not see. Vanishing into the terrain below as the sun briefly wisped over them. It was then that he heard it. A particularly familiar sound. A sound he knew all too well; and not only could he now hear it. He could feel it. The sound of disgust. of true malice. It was growing stronger. Their stares felt all too pressuring.
Unknowingly to the boy, the instructor had seemingly vanished, presumably to resume her duties, as the other children would continue to simply stand there. Staring. Shorter than most, Basil was an unchallenging target for bullies, a daily target for those in need of enjoyment.
The taller children begin to circle the boy. The others meaninglessly observing what was to come. This was just another, small example of Basil’s daily despair. Laughter, & an uneasiness became one with the surrounding atmosphere, as suddenly, one of the children would forcefully shove Basil. Causing him to forcibly come into contact with the ground below, staring upwards at the children whose laughter only gained intensity.
Biting firmly on his lower lip as they stomped and stomped over his fragile exterior. With Basil attempting to fight his attackers purely with the power of his words and the toughness of his own body and mind. As the laughter from his peers grew louder. Louder, and louder, and LOUDER! Basil could only wonder one thing.
Why! Why! Why! Why!
Why! Why! Why!
Why! Why!
Why! Why! Why!
( SHOCK! )
This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road. If you spot it on Amazon, please report it.
Basil awoke. Laid atop a glamorously cozy mattress, with an extraordinarily disorienting tension headache which only tightened as he attempted to move even an inch. Feeling almost as if his skull were on the verge of imploding from the inside. Was this another nightmare?
No. This place was familiar.
Nostalgic even. Nothing could be felt here, it was like a separate dimension. A dream. As for Basil, no matter how hard he tried, he could not put a pinpoint on where exactly he was. On the other hand, all he knew, was that it was surely lavish, or better yet, abnormally lavish. You could basically sense how enormous it was off simply being in it.
However, the main difference between his plain old, generic living quarters and here, was simply the interior appearance. The appearance was that of a small cell created seemingly for a certain individual. Its air took on an almost otherworldly texture. Its inside appeared as a dungeon, one meant for the most exclusive of slaves. The cell was luxurious, but held a dingy quality as well. The wind inside the cell is shallow & humid. Only whistling by to fill the ever so quiet room with noise for the recurrent brief second.
Paintings of almost indistinctly familiar faces adorned the bedroom walls. Many of which he did not even nearly recognize, and some he’d even met. Most surprisingly, even his Mother was one of the heads which decorated the room walls; but there was no Father in sight. Also inside the grand cellar, there was also a restroom that smelled identical to that of a rich lavender field in the humid summer air. Lastly there was the room’s raggedy wooden floorboards, creaking even with the slightest gust of wind. Luckily, the room’s air was not particularly violent or piercingly frigid.
Pads and pads of blankets were lazily scattered around Basil's body, with his belongings thrown wildly over the blankets, almost as if a beast ravaged the cell while he rested.
Basil himself was equipped in nothing but his slick black leather pants, and a plain white button up that wasn't even completely buttoned. As the temperature increased, Basil removed his plain white shirt, placing it on a dresser beside the king-sized bed. Returning to the actuality of his reality, or more importantly; the meaning behind these descriptive hallucinations! - No. Nightmares.
Basil could sense the feeling of something eldritch, something incomprehensible, evolving on the inside. Deluged with disappointment, & releasing a quiet sigh; Basil, the boy born into prestigious status, whose authority dwindled as so did his Father's. Plagued by his very own everyday existence, the boy simply closed his eyes, returning back to his rest. Finally dozing off on the tender cotton pillow as he recalled his Father’s orders.
“Dream. Dream silently my son.”
“I will save you.”
A mysteriously deep voice called out to Basil from the inside of his own mind. Bursting into a crazed laughter before fading into utter silence. Basil immediately awoke from his slumber. Wondering where this echoing voice originated from & who it exactly was. Even leaping out of the bed, taking multiple circular steps around the encapsulating cellar. Could it be an intruder? A spirit? - no. This was something demonic. A devil in disguise.
Hyperventilating with his only remainder of breaths left. Breath after breath, sweat dripping like anchors in the ocean. The wind is overwhelmingly gelid & noisy. Also distinctly making out what seemed to be faint whispering below his feet. His psyche & senses not able to even fully process his environment, Basil slowly leaned behind his left foot, stretching far for the blankets near his feet before -
“WAAHHAHAHHHHHHHHH!”
His world warping, distorting & contorting upon itself as he fell off the branch of a gigantic tree. The branches rattle & shake like a tambourine each he comes into contact with another, and another, and another. Shattering one of his internal ribs on each ‘padded’ landing. Leaves & fruit fall due to the concussive impact, triggering somewhat of a ricochet effect. All the while a bright-blood red apple follows Basil’s path.
( AGHH! ) let out Basil.
Before finally landing on the terrain below, silence once again took over. In similar fashion to every other previous time since he was born. The sound of liquid trickling, drizzling profusely, slapping against the muddy earth. It was loud, so loud in fact, it would make one believe the only thing reverberating through the empty forest was their own life fluid. The sensation of its moist texture felt as if snails steadily trailed over the surface of leathery skin. Insects in the background generate additional noise, advancing from a puny pest to outright irritating in the blink of an eye.
Croaking loudly with whatever lasting breath he could conjure. Tilting his neck an acutely moderate amount to observe his wounds. Witnessing a truly gruesome sight, shuttered stiffly as he examined his wounds. A gigantic splintered tree branch, larger than the average, with the sharpness of a pin-needle. penetrating directly through his solar plexus. Piercing straight the heart of the young boy.
( “What is happening?” ) the boy thought aloud, praying that he was dreaming.
As Basil began to lose consciousness, just making out his Mother’s figure reaching out her arms to him. Reaching out with his remaining endurance, before surrendering to his injuries. The same apple mentioned before dropping directly beside Basil’s dying body. Rolling leisurely as it hit the ground. As its rolling stopped so did Basil’s heavy breaths.
- End.