I listened as he told me fantasies.I would ask after every story he finished telling,
"Is this really the truth?"
and the old man would reply,
"Of course it is."
I had been sitting here, on this 'wooden' -as he had called it- floor of this 'wooden' house somehow built swerving gracefully,hovering between a tree's branches.When I first saw it,i was hypnotized.It's strangeness was terrifying which made me take a step back.
"What's wrong?" The look of curiosity and worry shone on Echo's face, hidden behind the two beaming emotions was a tiny glimpse of amusement.
"What is this?" I had asked,my voice barely a whisper,scared to ask,afraid to know.
"He'll explain everything."
She lead me up a winding swirl of steps made out of a substance I've never seen before.Smooth and rough,hard and soft,later I was introduced to 'wood'.
My first impression of the old man wasn't pleasant. I had screamed ,terrified of the peculiar looking man.The man's hair was messed up,half shaved and white with streaks of gold,never have I seen such a hairstyle nor such a color of hair. The government always lets us pick from only a few styles non of which look like what this man had. I had to control myself to only scream instead of rioting through the metallic woods yelling for the Proprietors.
His face was sunken,thin with soft droopy skin hanging over his skull's structure like pale peach goop that can't seem to let go.His left eye,ordinary looking yet extraordinarily piercing with it's dark blue pupils; his right eye, like the trees outside this unfamiliar world,bionic with constant spinning gears surrounding a grey pupil of glass. His eyebrows drooped along with the rest of his skin, the space between occupied by tired lines and a silver ring unlike any I've seen-which were worn by the Proprietors,with different colors of Metal to display the level of their superiority.
The ring hanging off the edge of his eyebrows wasn't the only ring he had clinging to his skin. There was a gold one on his nose,a black and a silver on his lips hanging side by side on the old man's bottom lip,and a giant black ring,webbed in the middle with crosses from every angle somehow wedged in a big hole in his right ear.
The old man's clothes were shabby, a worn out-brown splattered black t-shirt,a long pants made from yet another substance I had never been taught of-which was later introduced as denim-and slippers that looked as if it was once the kind of red you'd spot immediately on a Propiety's finger in a crowd of hundreds.
After recovering from my shock of my newly introduced surroundings and companion and questions I would never have thought would ever have come out from my mouth,Echo left me to indulge in the fantasies of truth told by the old man in front of me.