Chereads / Northern Downpour / Chapter 62 - New Horizons (XLVI)

Chapter 62 - New Horizons (XLVI)

"I have heard those voices a hundred, and yet my mind couldn't utter a thing. How come you're very concerned or being told but never had the bricks to talk more?"

Micael replied as he started to grunt with his forehead curling, and it felt crumbling afront of the man in white, who had never uttered a second, an he paused for the very meant time as if he was thinking, and Micael could think no more.

He wanted the man in white to talk much more, but squeezing him could not extract a single juice of his knowledge. He was like Jack. He truly was. He kept on talking with his childish voice with utter clarity but down-rocketed thoughts right behind his voices, and there the man in white budged as Micael's mind was filled with quite indiscernible gibberish, and walked towards Micael closed with a single step, and he talked right as his limbs stopped moving, and this time, it was remarkable.

"Do not let Jack control you, Aleck. You have killed yourself years back, and killing yourself once more will yield you a cape wrapped around your neck, and sooner the open gates will unfold, and Jack will take his cape off and move on with you, like nothing really happened," the man in white replied with his smirking bunny mask and looked at Micael with a glare right through its eyeholes, and Micael could not utter a thing, and as the pink moon waned, so did his thoughts.

The night then continued on walking alongside their existence, and the cold northern winds of the pitch-black sky started to their skins once more, and this time it was much colder. They were above the side of cliff, and it was high. Higher than Micael's curiosity running into the insides of their heads' houses, and sooner, Micael followed a question of which the man in white had the littlest of answers.

"And then you're going to kill me? You're going to keep me awake? Just like Jack?" he asked and his hand followed a strong clench from one finger into another, and his eyes went locked into the man in white's mask as his stood went lying above his head, and its tongue reaching the bit of his forehead and kissing upon one another.

The night kept on covering vast lands of which Micael had never known, but he wanted badly as one's pearl right beneath the muddy swamps, and with his heart pounding right underneath his chest, the man in white started to talk slowly and calmly, as if he had never been calm at all, and words followed around Micael's neck and danced right around him, and then his ears started to catch what the man in white was trying to utter, and so the man in white had been heard.

"No, Aleck. I will just make your cause known. The feelings will be so different, I presume."

And Micael grunted with his feet right about his face, and then his eyes started to talk like thunder, and sooner his mouth. "What's with it?" Micael finally uttered a reply after the quite silence right between the man in white's voice and his, and the moon's light flashes beyond his very eyes. It was blinding, but he had never budged an inch, and his eyes went alert than the very last. His body much more. The man in white then looked at Micael's straight body and rested aback. His eyes were stuck like glue into Micael's thoughts, the wandering boy who sprouted from the insides of Melbourne had no clue for he could not see the under of the man in white's glaring grey bunny mask and the only being of which could pass the mask was his voices, and his breath which Micael could not see, but it was warm as if it every breath could reach the tip of his nerves.

But the warm was not there.

It was the cold of which Micael could feel without even merely trying, and with his face being slapped by the blowing winds coming from the dead bushes behinds right near them (a mere fifteen yards, or so) and with the littlest rumbling of the smallest pebbles scattered above the solid ground on the above side of the cliff, the man in white talked with smooth glance on his voice, as if it was dancing. As if he was dancing.

"Just close your eyes, Aleck, and in one poof, all of these right in front of your very eyes will sooner unfold back, and back to the apparent of world of yours you go," he said, and every words seemed like morning dew for Micael, and his eyes started to shine like the waning pink moon while its eyes kept on looking towards their very whereabouts. They were standing very far from the moon but the moon never bothered and kept on shining through, and Micael followed words right behind the back of his head as stated to close his eyelids; he really wanted to get out of the irrelevance he was into without having his heart shot, or his head being ripped apart by big, sharp serrated blades and tear his nose until it could breathe no more, and until his nostrils were set two feet apart from each other, and he did.

"Morning dew, huh? Child, once I am back, we will soon be walking towards the open gates, and the mere reality of Jack's." Every word was different than the last which he tried to utter, and so did the man in white's thoughts. His head subconsciously nodded and it seemed like he was concurring into Micael's think-abouts, and Micael had seen it as the blinds of his eyes were halfway into closing fully, and his eyes had seen the nodding of the bunny man's flesh right in front of his skull.

For Micael, he had seen enough, but he could talk a lot more. I can do this all day were the words running inside the very minds of his until the eyes of his very face started to make their own vision blurry, and then beyond his eyes, there was black. No light, only the blackest of space he could think of; he was very familiar of the absence of light, and so he had not become scared, and kept his eyelids closed willingly and letting anything, let alone anyone, to open them themselves, and he relied on his ears. Without seeing the scene right in front of his face and the winds kissing his lips and caressing his cheeks down to his chin one after another, his balance was quirky as if he wanted to dance, like the crooked bowing trees right in the very bottom off the cliff's side which adorned the toes of its foot, and his eyes went barely asleep as his eyelids closed, and there the man in white started talking right a front of him, and his hands were refusing to move, just like his very being.

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