Aristotlle
Member
Boise City, Oklahoma
1937
WYATT DIDN'T LIKE PAINTING. He liked drawing, with no color applied. But sitting in a barn, raided by fresh dust, in the dead heat of a newly broken spring, he brought two paired forefingers up to the minor gash in his skin and rubbed them into the blood that had begun leaking from the slice of falling debris.
He craned the fingers toward an open sheet of paper in his ratty notebook, dragging them down the sleek features of a vague face. A drop continued to slide down the cheek and faint outline of its jaw. He watched it dry.
The blood, he hoped, would rip through the single sheet and soil those layered behind it. It was so hot and heavy in his veins, weighing him down and bubbling beneath his skin. His problems had built up and manifested in his arteries, sweetly strangling them until it felt like they were going to freeze and explode.
There was a familiar shuffle of boots in dirt from the entrance of the barn. Wyatt yanked his sleeve over the wound, not wanting anyone like his younger sisters to find him hurt and exposed like he was. He definitely didn't need Esther or Ava Ellen telling him on their father, despite the fact he was well from his youth and had been on his own for several years.
When he leaned his head back and pulled up a faux, 'no really, I'm fine' smile and turned his head to look at whoever crept in, he didn't see worried hazel or green eyes twinkling in the reflection of the sadistic sun, but curious browns rejecting all light streaming down and focusing on him.
"Jedidiah," Wyatt groaned and rubbed his face, forgetting entirely of his dyed fingers and smearing the blood on his eyelids. "You have to stop following me like this."
Jedidiah, sheepish but nonetheless only more encouraged by Wyatt's clear wound to step in further, nodded like he was going to listen from now on before turning around the corner.
"You look like a warrior," he commented as he approached Wyatt, whose eyes would always wander among Jedidiah's lanky build. "Right 'fore he charges into a battle that'll change the world."
1937
WYATT DIDN'T LIKE PAINTING. He liked drawing, with no color applied. But sitting in a barn, raided by fresh dust, in the dead heat of a newly broken spring, he brought two paired forefingers up to the minor gash in his skin and rubbed them into the blood that had begun leaking from the slice of falling debris.
He craned the fingers toward an open sheet of paper in his ratty notebook, dragging them down the sleek features of a vague face. A drop continued to slide down the cheek and faint outline of its jaw. He watched it dry.
The blood, he hoped, would rip through the single sheet and soil those layered behind it. It was so hot and heavy in his veins, weighing him down and bubbling beneath his skin. His problems had built up and manifested in his arteries, sweetly strangling them until it felt like they were going to freeze and explode.
There was a familiar shuffle of boots in dirt from the entrance of the barn. Wyatt yanked his sleeve over the wound, not wanting anyone like his younger sisters to find him hurt and exposed like he was. He definitely didn't need Esther or Ava Ellen telling him on their father, despite the fact he was well from his youth and had been on his own for several years.
When he leaned his head back and pulled up a faux, 'no really, I'm fine' smile and turned his head to look at whoever crept in, he didn't see worried hazel or green eyes twinkling in the reflection of the sadistic sun, but curious browns rejecting all light streaming down and focusing on him.
"Jedidiah," Wyatt groaned and rubbed his face, forgetting entirely of his dyed fingers and smearing the blood on his eyelids. "You have to stop following me like this."
Jedidiah, sheepish but nonetheless only more encouraged by Wyatt's clear wound to step in further, nodded like he was going to listen from now on before turning around the corner.
"You look like a warrior," he commented as he approached Wyatt, whose eyes would always wander among Jedidiah's lanky build. "Right 'fore he charges into a battle that'll change the world."
