The boy with bloody skin

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  • Published: 30 Jun 2013
  • Updated: 30 Jun 2013
  • Status: Complete
Who allows certain beings to be able to share their power with the world? Who allows others with similar powers to be ridiculed and mistreated… abused and unloved. Only those who ‘know people’ get away with such talents. Pathetic magic tricks… Rising in power day by day. Letting those who are normal… who are dull to rule their lives… Who says that one who is different must be used in bettering the lives of the ones who bring it upon themselves to judge them? Why must those with the power to make the world be in peace be stopped, be forced into submission by cruel, heartless people? Question after question. When will they be answered..?

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2. Chapter Two

 

The day was warm. Birds sang at their full, chirping at one and other happily in the light breeze. A man wheeled an opaque trolley down the path, edged with green blades of grass, browning in the sun. The person carefully wheeled the cart over to a black Volvo covered in dirt from lack of cleaning. The floor of the car was littered with… well litter. The seats were plastered with empty wrappers and cans and other things like that. A typical messy family car. “Red do you think you can climb out?” The man whispered to the trolley. A tiny ‘no’ emanated from inside it. A red hand grasped the side of trolley and attempted, with some trouble, to hoist the thin body sitting inside if the cart out of it. He groaned and dropped back down with a thud.

            “I cannot get up.” Red muttered thoughtfully. He was in a state of disbelief. Nothing like this had ever happened before. The guard man had been working there only for a month and had never tried to do anything. But now here he was, that kind hearted guard trying to sneak the innocent boy from the place he’d grown up in.

Lifting the boy carefully from the box like cart he placed him gently into the front of the car buckling the seat belt around him quickly and slamming the door shut. Red stared through the dark windows, looking at everything there was to look at. A bird flew very close to the window, making him jump and squeak in alarm. The door opposite from his opened and the guard slid in the car next to him.

            The man pushed his key into the ignition. The car purred beneath Red’s feet. This was also something new to him and he felt that startled feeling he was beginning to get accustomed to on that day. His white eyes slid over the messy interior of the vehicle, reaching out he gently touched the button that controlled the window. It slid open slightly, the roaring of the air around the car humming through his ears. His pure white hair tangled around his scarlet face, the patches of blood still lingering there like he was blushing deeply. “What is this?” He asked.

            “What? The car?”

            “Car?”

            “We use them for transport.”

            “Is this an experiment?”

            “No.” The short conversation ended quickly. Red’s gaze was drawn back to the window as is clicked upwards as the guard pulled the button up on his side to close it. They travelled for a couple of hours until they reached a service station. They parked in a tight gap between two large land rovers. The man turned to the boy. “Do you want anything?”

            “Like what?”

            “Food, water? Anything?”

            “Can I go outside?”

            “I’m afraid not, your skin is too obvious.”

            “Oh… then can I have something to eat?”

            “What do you want?” At this the boy stopped, frowning. He’d never had any choice in his food, and never even knew there was a choice. He ate what he was given, drank what he was given, with no questions asked.

            “I don’t know.”

            “Okay then, I’ll get you something filling. You wait here okay? And don’t worry the windows are blacked out so people can’t see you from the outside.” With that he climbed out of the car, locking it behind him, and made his way through group of travellers into the building covered in different advertisements. One that caught the boy’s eye was one of a small girl with her face plastered in red sauce eating what looked like long yellow worms. He was examining one of a giant cup of a mud coloured substance when there was a click and the door opened again, revealing the guard. His hands were full of bags.

            “Hello.” Red said politely.

            “Hey. I got you loads of food.”

            “Really?” To his utter disbelief when the man got back into the car, closing the door behind him, he found out that all of the bags were full of food for him.

            “Ok you have to pace yourself with this, little and often okay? Every two hours I’ll give you something else okay?”

            “Thank you.”

            “Oh and my name’s Marcus by the way.”

            “Okay…” Red failed to see why knowing or having names were important but he assumed it must be polite to know someone’s name. It did help when you needed to address someone…

 

Marcus reached into the bag and picked out a steaming pasty, he handed it to the match stick of the boy. He looked at it with confusion, and watched as the man took it off him again and peeled the hot wrapper off the top. He gave it back to the boy. Red licked the side of it gingerly and glanced at Marcus with a sudden fear in his eyes. “Am I eating it right?” He asked timidly.

            “You bite it. Go on. Don’t worry go ahead and wolf it down.” The boys red lips wrapped around it and bit down softly, his eyes lit up in delight.

            “This is nice.” He said pointedly, swallowing his mouthful. “Do I really get to eat all of this?”

            “Yeah!” Marcus spoke like it was obvious, laughing to himself quietly.

 

They set off on the motorway again. It was a long drive. They travelled in what felt like circles until it was dark. At some point Red thought he must have fallen asleep because the car jolted to a stop, jolting him awake. “It’s dark.” He said with a sleepy yawn. “When are we stopping? I need to relieve myself.” Red’s cheeks went slightly redder in his embarrassment at having to say this.

            “Nearly there.”

            “Where?”

            “My home.”

            “Oh.” A silence followed broken for Red by the stir in the air as Marcus lifted his hand to rub his eye.

            “Were you sleeping?”

            “Yes I was.”

            “Any dreams?”

            “Dreams?”

            “Yeah, like films in your head.” By the look of puzzlement on the boy’s face it was obvious he didn’t dream. What neither of them knew was that there was something else in his power. Something that could have acted in Red’s lucky escape. He held the power of- No I’ll keep that a secret until you find out yourself…

 

The car pulled up outside a small house that looked like it was having an extension done, judging by the scaffolding on the side. Stretching the child waited for Marcus to come round the car and open the door for him, when he came, the night air confused his senses, making his head spin in an exhilarating way. The guard lifted him carefully, wrapping him in several blankets to hide his red skin from prying eyes. He carried Red down the driveway, passing a green Ford, and rang the doorbell (with some trouble as he was carrying a person in his arms). A woman in a thick black dressing gown answered the door stepping into the porch and closing the front door behind her. Round glasses framed her blue eyes and her mousy brown hair fell in cascades down her smooth shoulders.

            “Hey dad! How’re you-” Her face fell as she saw the boy in her father’s arms. “Is he okay?!”

            “Yeah, he’s just a bit weak, do you mind if he stays here for a while?”

            “Of course, what’s his name, how old is he? Do you know him? Where did you find him? Is he gonna be alright? Are you okay? Does he have parents? Do they know he’s here?”

            “Oh my god Florence! Shut up and let us in!” Marcus chuckled and pushed past her as she mumbled and apologetic ‘sorry’. He carried the boy through to their small living room and laid him on the sofa there. The guard un-wrapped the blankets from around Red and draped them over his quivering body. Even Red didn’t know why he was still shaking, he felt so weak and fragile, though that was a feeling he’d experienced quite a few times.

            “He- he’s r-red!” Florence exclaimed in disbelief.

            “Yeah he’s red. Does this answer your questions?” Her hands flew up to her mouth and a single tear slid down her freckled cheek. Her hair flapped around her face as she flung her arms around the startled boy’s neck, sobbing like a pathetic child.

            “Um… Florence… is it? Can you stop that?” His polite voice was muffled and sounded strangely young for a fourteen year old… She drew away from him.

            “I’m sorry…”

 

Crash!

 

The front door smashed open, flying off its hinges. The air went into a torrent of movement as floods of people sprinted into the room. The banging of guns filled the house with ear splitting sound. Red curled into a tight ball under the pile of blankets, holding his head in his arms. “I- I don’t want to go back.” The small whimper of a sound seemed to echo through the air… everyone jumped and froze. “What was that?” A man asked in confusion.

            The boy stopped in fear of being heard or seen by anyone in the room. Poor Florence was lying on the floor in shock. Her hands quivered as silence dropped on the room. Someone shifted their feet slightly, obviously listening intently for the bloody red boy. A thought struck him. Probably the first free thought he’d ever had.  I don’t want to be taken away. I want to see the sun.  Such a simple wish for such a young boy, for yes, fourteen is young. That ripe age where you are finally figuring out what you want to do. Who you want to be. What life really is. And that was what he was doing; finding out about life itself. He sat up, unravelling his long limbs. Untangling his hair from around his throat he pulled himself to his feet. In a final effort he screamed. The air vibrated with the din, forcing everyone onto their knees in pain, everyone except Marcus and Florence, who stared around in confusion.

            “What happened?” The waves of sound slowly died out as the boy dropped to his knees.

            “That made me tired.” He muttered. What was this power he’d just discovered? A power hidden from him for fourteen years.

            “What did you do, Red?”

            “I don’t know…” Now this is where I come in. His power was an unusual one. Red held the ability to control sound waves. The scream he’d produced in his desperation had affected certain people’s inner ears; the sonic wavelengths punctured their ear drums and rendered each of them deaf… and they would be for the rest of their lives. You’re probably thinking that this is a good thing. The bad guys paid for what they’d done! But does anyone deserve to be punished like that just for doing their jobs? We don’t know who’s enjoying the work and who’s working just to put food on the table or even those forced to do the job. But I’m not here to guilt trip you into feeling sorry for the workers. They still have minds of their own… but I’m just saying that they didn’t really deserve to be deafened…

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