XLII
It was beyond the shapeshifting figure, and also beyond the lost boy's comprehension. His eyes dilated excessively while his arms with dead-straight down the side if his waist; he froze for one second.
No. A lot of seconds.
Micael felt faint. Much fainter then he thought he was, and his body had rested right above the wet soil, grasping itself clingy unto his dress pants and dress shirt, and it felt dingy. But he knew his mind was never one, and so he tried to relaxed and the shapeshifting figure kept on changing until it could change no more, and then Micael's eyes went dark and cloudy as he was being slapped by the cold whistling winds, and there the pink light coming from the waning moon had emitted a quite radiation out form its craters once more, and the light had passed his eyesight.
By the passing, he could see he bones right underneath his flesh, one bone right beside another as if he had discovered something no one had ever found out, and there his bones rested beneath his flesh and above the soil so soft that it felt like he was being eaten, but he never cared and continued on being mesmerized by his cloudy vision until the crackling sound could be heard no more, and there his thoughts widened completely under the pink light, and the figure stood up with clothes enveloping his very body.
Beyond Micael's ears were ghost-quiet eerie voices coming from beyond the bowing trees, as if they were whispering. And there was none behind the trees for every tree's behind is another tree bowing right underneath every other tree's crown, and so did Micael. His eyes shouted aback of his face, and beyond him, a figure and clothing very familiar of him stood right in front of the bushes where the raccoon-to-man entity was first seen, heard, and then distinguished. Dirty dirt-decorated white torn cape and a quite white shirt with slits which adorned the very front of the figure's chest, a blur ripped jeans which seemed to be wet, both from the Micael's eyes and the senses of which his hands had gathered, and a flute holstered about his back, and most noticeable of all: The quite bunny mask smiling into him with its front teeth exposed like thunder, and it was not rusting into pieces, and soon Micael and it was someone from before. From the dark moonless mountainous ranges.
IT was the voice coming from right beyond his room beyond S.S. Mary; the very quiet voice who shouted right at the very end of his existence. Micael's hormones around his body were racing towards his head, and soon enough they arrived gently and he came up with a thinking he would never think of, and then his mind concurred that of the brain and his hands, and it was him. The man in white.
What shocked Micael's spine more was the ability of the man in white: He could shapeshift as the child, and there he built speculations right inside of his head, and sooner, the night followed with a shimmer coming from the moon's craters and reaching Micael's eyes. It was shiny and gloomy right beyond Micael's eyesight. His thought much more, and there the breeze of the cold lake winds started to touch his crotch and the night had went for the two of them, staring with their eyes they doubted that they could see and with broken wings, they fly along the crossing roads, and there the pitch black sky became blacker, and the night followed.
XLIII
The night WENT on, but Micael's mind seemed awoke, and so it asked words and it came spitting right outside of his lungs and shaped by the edge of his curious mouth.
"Who are you?" Micael replied with echoes following each of his words, and there the man in white immediately replied with the very similar voice of owner which he knew very well. "Do you really not know me?" The main in white replied as he stood with straight behind and his thoughts chirping around the very sides of the trees, and there Micael thought who he was: the child. His mind had widened, and sooner his understanding. He had never thought of any chanced that the child would shapeshift into someone, something, very familiar but opposite of Jack's appearance, but he never bothered. He continued on asking thoroughly, and there his words followed.
"What's with the point of shapeshifting into something very familiar of-"
he uttered but as soon as his voice reached the side of the man in white's grey and beaten bunny mask, he quickly interrupted and told him no more. "Prypyat. Call me Prypyat, Aleck. I just want you to show something that Jack never wanted you to know so that your time spent is just another time wasted," he said, and Micael gladly agreed with doubt right behind the back of the neck, and there he stood up carefully and slowly with his palms standing up with his knees.
His sole stood up neatly above the lumpy soil, and there he could feel his hands hugging about the soil he could never imagined, and with his wet buttocks he stood up straight with the little feeling of being light-headed as he it was a sudden stop, but he stood straight nonetheless. With sharpened and straight tone, he uttered his voices once more towards the man in white, who was a mere eight feet away from his heels, and there, words followed.
"Where are you taking me?"
"Somewhere very remarkable," the man in white followed, and he started to turn his back towards Micael slowly, and upon turning, Micael could see the flute resting behind the torn holster wrapped around one of his shoulders down to his waistline, and it was the very same flute which fell at the shallow waters of the dusky swamps, and he really knew it was the child, and so he followed as the man in white started walking with his right foot stepping afront, and he did, and beyond the dead cluster of bushes went the man in white, swaying every other bush as he passed and traversed through them, and soon his figure had disappeared right before his eyes. His cape was never visible, and so did his flute, and Micael followed while shouting with his voice atop: "Wait!" and he turned his back as he went nearer the bushes, and there he looked at the moon and quickly reminded of what Jack had said to him as soon as he vanished like black dust. It seemed to be nonsense yet remarkable, and there, Jack's voice went back inside of his head.
...