I Just Ran
Characters: Josh and Open
Date & Time: November 19, early evening
Setting: The front room
Summary: Teenage aaaaaangst, what else?
Rating: It's Josh, so safe
Status: Open
And the day had started off so well.
Josh had risen early that morning, ready to start the week with the giddy excitement that came with an impending holiday. Thanksgiving was only three days away, and he had planned it all out - he'd hitch a ride into town Thursday afternoon, and hop on the train from there back into Queens. He'd be home just in time for dinner to be served, and for a night, at least, he could pretend that everything was the way it was supposed to be. There'd be turkey and mashed potatoes and gravy and pie, and his brothers would be home from college, and his parents would be happy to see him, because it was a time for families to be together. Right?
That's what he had thought, until the letter came. It was the first one he'd received in the two months he'd been at the mansion, and he recognized his mother's delicate lettering on the envelope. Excited, he had dashed up to his room to open it, sitting on his bed by the window. But as he started reading, the smile had faded quickly from his face, a sick feeling settling in his stomach until he couldn't even finish it. With an angry scream, he crumpled up the paper and threw it to the floor, before he ran out of his room and down the stairs, needing to be outside.
The air was crisp and frigid, even in the middle of the day. He took off, not caring where he was running to, barely able to see because of the tears blurring his vision. At some point, the wide open lawn became trees and fallen branches, rocks hidden by clumps of decaying leaves. He tripped on one, opening up a decently sized gash in his knee and spraining his ankle, but a minute later he was back on his feet, the only clue to injury the gaping hole torn in his pants.
He ran for hours, pausing every now and then to catch his breath. As the sun started going down, he figured he should probably be getting back, in case someone actually decided to worry about him. As he made his way back, he began to feel the toll of the day wearing on him. Pushing open the front door was like trying to move a mountain, and he just barely made it into the front room before he collapsed face-down on the floor, too exhausted to move any further.
Date & Time: November 19, early evening
Setting: The front room
Summary: Teenage aaaaaangst, what else?
Rating: It's Josh, so safe
Status: Open
And the day had started off so well.
Josh had risen early that morning, ready to start the week with the giddy excitement that came with an impending holiday. Thanksgiving was only three days away, and he had planned it all out - he'd hitch a ride into town Thursday afternoon, and hop on the train from there back into Queens. He'd be home just in time for dinner to be served, and for a night, at least, he could pretend that everything was the way it was supposed to be. There'd be turkey and mashed potatoes and gravy and pie, and his brothers would be home from college, and his parents would be happy to see him, because it was a time for families to be together. Right?
That's what he had thought, until the letter came. It was the first one he'd received in the two months he'd been at the mansion, and he recognized his mother's delicate lettering on the envelope. Excited, he had dashed up to his room to open it, sitting on his bed by the window. But as he started reading, the smile had faded quickly from his face, a sick feeling settling in his stomach until he couldn't even finish it. With an angry scream, he crumpled up the paper and threw it to the floor, before he ran out of his room and down the stairs, needing to be outside.
The air was crisp and frigid, even in the middle of the day. He took off, not caring where he was running to, barely able to see because of the tears blurring his vision. At some point, the wide open lawn became trees and fallen branches, rocks hidden by clumps of decaying leaves. He tripped on one, opening up a decently sized gash in his knee and spraining his ankle, but a minute later he was back on his feet, the only clue to injury the gaping hole torn in his pants.
He ran for hours, pausing every now and then to catch his breath. As the sun started going down, he figured he should probably be getting back, in case someone actually decided to worry about him. As he made his way back, he began to feel the toll of the day wearing on him. Pushing open the front door was like trying to move a mountain, and he just barely made it into the front room before he collapsed face-down on the floor, too exhausted to move any further.