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Blue Boy

By @giannu


It’s a cottage… the small cabin has a light smoke pouring out of its chimney. It rests on top of a hill up ahead. There’s no way I’m going near that thing, only some feral mountain man would live there.

I make my way creeping around the hill, making sure to not make a noise when I hear a branch snap echo behind me, “darn it..” I whisper to myself.

The young blue folk knew that in this moment he could not run. He felt a searing heat on his cheek. A familiar feeling. Only this time it’s more intense.

“Don’t make a move.” a rough voice says.

The blue boy turns his head slightly to see over his left shoulder. A ridged blade of light, blinding to look at for too long. It emits a lavender hue. The boy wasn’t scared, he accepted his fate. At the same time, it felt like hours have gone by.

“Ya hungry, kid?” the voice says in a gentler tone.

My captor puts his blade away. I instantly flip my body from prone and back into the tree that provided me cover. My breathing was easy. I can’t trust this… I finally get a good look at him. He unlatches his helmet. To reveal an old leathery war-torn face, a scar running over the bridge of his nose and down his right cheek. A small floating droid swirls around him. He has a warm smile.

His cottage is homely and warm, there are rows of odd trinkets and artifacts. He’s a thief. I look down at my bowl of grey chunky chowder. I then watch the man wolf down his bowl.

“Eat.” he grumbles looking down into his bowl.

I take the spoon lifting a blob of the goop. Yup, just as bad as it looks. I hear the man chuckle as he watches me gag. I’m pretty sure that was an eyeball.

“…well names Vega. What’s yours, kid?” he asks.

Vega gets no response from me, I continue to stare at the goop. A long while passes, the cracking of the fire sounds deafening in our silence.

“Look, kid, I’m not ’bout to bombard you with questions you don’t want to answer… but just… help me out here.” The cabin seems to settle, “What are you looking for?” he asks in a low voice.

I’m taken aback by the question. What does he mean? Does he suspect I’m a lowly thief out for his loot? I don’t know how to respond but he notices my confusion.

“Drifters are always lookin’ for something, kid.” He and I stare at the fire.

“I’m no drifter” I speak up.

It feels like forever in this cabin. The walls feel like they’re closing in every second that goes by. It feels like I’m going to be crushed and there’s nothing I can do about it.

“Well alright then. I’m off to bed,” he says suddenly getting up from his chair. “Oh, you can take the sofa if you’d like, or head off your way if you must, I won’t fault you.. but just be wary of the wolves” he chuckles to himself halfway into his bedroom, “…Take it easy, kid.”

I wasn’t too far off when I suspected there might live a feral mountain man in the cottage. He slammed the door. That was the first time I spoke to another person in so long. I forgot how my voice sounded like. It’s gotten deep and fuller. Its warm in this cabin, yet I’m shaking, I can’t feel my fingers. Maybe I’ll stay for a little.

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