Micael, even with the littlest of specks, could see nothing but bowing trees which seemed to be looking right at time, and with broken twigs and scarce leaves they looked something quite familiar, but he had never noticed how familiar they were and only thought of the fact that he was, indeed, back right. He kept on looking around, soon after he realized that there was no other than the bowing trees looking at him, very carefully and meticulously, and so he swerved his thoughts and looked at the very top of the pitch black skies, and there was no stars, just like the irrelevant world where he died more than he thought he would, and there he started to think about the happenstance that he might had been, and upon his looking, the moon started to smile back to his and then its crater started to turn towards his head, and there the moon emitted a bright pale pink color of light right into his eyes, and the waning moon had never flashed blinding light into Micael, and there he kept on looking.
"This must be the very same place," Micael went aspoke as he felt the touch of the familiar cold breeze right into his arms as he sleeves of his dress shirt had been rolled, and there the reflection of the pink waning moon started to be looked upon at the lake, and there the very mirror image of the unknown moon's source of light started to unfold, and it was itself, and a small pocket of light started to shimmer right across the black sky above the invisible could even the healthiest but defected eyes of Micael could not see, and there he looked at the very still lake and stagnant waters which made his eyes one, too, and he looked at the very clear image of the slowly moving pocket of light towards the pink waning moon, as if they were about to kiss, and Micael heard a shrugged rustle of the bush aback, and his ears had been alerted down to his numb sole, and there he turned his back without any mere hesitation as it might be the whereabouts of the voice hiding right behind dead bushes, as if it was planned, and his torso turned with his limbs, and there his back was facing the light being reflected by the stagnant lake waters and his eyes were back looking behind the broken chair he went awoke right above it, and there he saw a pile of dead bushes right behind him awhile, and his voice followed crookedly right underneath his voice box and there he talked while trying to be not scared as much as he could, for it was all a dream he would get out of, even if being shot in the head was the only way to be alive once more.
"Who's there?" Micael asked softly with his voice, but there was only silence.
"Who's there?" again asked Micael as his thoughts went awoke, and so did his courage. He could the very bottom of his crotch shivering as if it was freezing cold, but the slap of the winds right unto his bare skin only felt a small spit of coldness, and his body had ignored to shiver but of the curiosity he was feeling. He knew Jack was not hiding and that he was very straightforward, and so he thought of another. As his eyes started to be alert and awakened before his very thoughts, he started to think of the man in white.
The bunny-masked apparition-like figure he came across the mountainous ranges, and there he thought of him: the height, the dingy flute, the mask, and the quite torn white cape enveloping his shoulders and hiding his very behind, and there he shouted from atop his lungs as his larynx started to shake as his spine's, and there his voice started screeching softly, and his words followed.
"You should find yourself past the bush, guy," he shouted, and the bush rustled once more, and beyond his eyes, a figure started to unfurl and move itself: a raccoon, and he could recognize atop of his thoughts, and soon he was relieved until the pink the moon shined a little brighter, which had caught his thoughts and sooner his eyes. He then tried to look at the pink waning moon with his eyes as he turned his head about his neck, twisting his torso for a little and then his eyes had met the pink waning moon, and there he saw the pocket of light right beside the moon, and it was no pocket of light at all.
Have you ever seen a moon with eyes, Aleck? I bet you haven't.
And he remembered of Jack's twangy and unrequited voice, and it was the very same pink waning moon with a different size and light seeping right into its crater: it was a moon, as little as a pea from Micael's view and the pink waning moon was like a big basketball, bigger than his palms as it was flying as low as he could not think of, and there the sound of the whistling cold wings had started to hit his ears, and sooner his thoughts, and then crackles and the crisp twigs started to sound right at the bushes, and there he wasted no time onto looking, and the way he had responded to the sound was the last thing he would want to do, and there the raccoon went big, and bigger, and bigger until its size was no raccoon's at all.
Its flesh started to stretch right before Micael's teary eyes and its bones started to rip through its skin: something he wished to not on unfolding right in front of his eyes, but it was there, and so losing one helluva look might mean his danger somewhere he never knew, and the sound of his bones cracking and deforming started to gin decibels and his ears had no escape since. The raccoon's face started to concave on its own as if its skull was fluid as water and his body was malleable as iron, and there it assumed a shape similar to those of Micael's head.
Those of humans.
And there it went fixed, and its limbs started stretch and lengthened, and its flesh started to bloat like the biceps of a typical man, and it felt fluid. Micael's stomach started to churn as his body could not handle the looks of the shapeshifting raccoon but he knew he had to hold his breath as well as his eyes into looking, and so he did. All of the raccoon's limbs extended, and so did its thorax, abdomen and chest. All of his body inflated while enunciating crackles as it expanded into a size similar to those of humans' and there Micael could not hold it any holder, and he started to fall right behind his back, falling downwards and sooner his buttocks had hit the wet soil right beside the lake, as if the t ides had receded at that very moment, and he could feel it with the palm of his hands but his eyes felt numb. His thoughts much more. He was shocked but he knew it was something very terrible and quite remarkable to look, for it had reminded him of the child, and soon the body of the raccoon expanded no more and it became solid.
...