XLVII
"Morning dew, Aleck. Morning dew…"
It was the soft whispers of which rendered his very body immovable, and there his thoughts started to sleep together with his drowsy eyes underneath the resting eyelids of his, and he thought it was just another trick of which Jack had used to use towards his body: I have only kept you breathing rounded his mind in circles as the man in white continued on talking with his elegant-like lips right underneath the big rusty teeth of the grey bunny mask, and there he kept on talking with such decibels o which Micael's closing ears could still hear as if the words were never there, and the voices continued.
"Morning… dew… morning… dew, Aleck…"
The words kept on sounding the very same beyond hi ears, and there he kept of listening as the slap of the cold winds kept on hitting his very skin above his curious flesh. He wanted to open his eyes, but he knew seeing what's beyond would render his face concaved like metals being shaped into the workers' liking, and his eyes were kept closed, and then the winds from the moon and its son's blowing stopped hitting and caressing his very body.
He could not feel the kiss falling from his lips down to his neck and the touch of the very winds' fingers above the skin of her cheeks down too his chin with seductive-like texture unto every touch, as if it was Amy, but he very knew that 'twas the winds, and not her, and the voice of the man in white slowly receded, one decibel after another. "Mor… ning …Aleck … M-Micael…"
and his thoughts was quickly sent alight by the last word of the man in white: Micael. He knew it was different, and only Jack could had only known him by his new name, and there his mind shock-ened his body from the tip of his nose down to the tail of his toes, and there he was quickly sent aquiver by himself and, especially, the quite words of the man in white, let alone the child, and the man in white's voce disappeared like bubble and the caresses of the cold whistling winds evaporated quickly like lightning utterly retreating back to the territory of the gloomy clouds off which it came from, and he went curious and started to feel sensations from his behind; his really behind. He could feel the touches from the his suboccipital of his skull down to his very heels, and there he felt very different. But he kept his eyes closed and his mind open like the open skies, though black in nature, and with his tight ears, he could noises, and there was a shouting which h seemed to be coming right in front of him, and the decibels kept on get ing higher until his ears could hear them no more, but soon enough, the voices were heard as if they were never spoken at all, and the high tone of the voice followed every word reaching Micael's myriad of thinking:
"Look at this mess, Micael! How'd you manage to break a pot?" It was soft though it was meant to be shouted, and his thoughts followed the voice as it kept o getting louder, louder and louder.
"Look!"
"Mor… ning… dew," and the voice was familiar, and he realized that he was somewhere dark no more, and he tried to wake his eyes first and sooner his legs, but his eyes refused to swallow the light coming from the curtains' behind right beside of his whereabouts, and he became dizzy as words came flying by his thinking. "Morning dew, Aleck. Morning dew…" lies were told before him, and yet his body kept on not realizing the very mere of the fact he had, and voices kept on rummaging around the cores of his hearing, both of which very familiar and yet very different upon each other, and there his mother's voice dominated the other as if it was no voice at all, and Micael was finally set free around his constraints, and upon the thinking of his head at it could be nothing at all, the back of his head could feel the touches coming from something he was never familiar of, let alone something very different from the chair's backrest, and doubts raised afar above his head.
It was very different as if he was lying above strong hands of which was carrying him around, and made him more dizzy and curious at the very same time, and his mother's voice followed the biggest doubts he could think of, and, that very time, it was no dream at all.
"Your first class will start three and a half hours later! We should better be going!" The voices shouted once more and there was hard rustling, different than the leaves. As soon as he grew curious, he went on to shoot the false thoughts coming from his mind and continued forth onto his new journey inside British borders, and soon he wasted no time thinking.
XLVIII
And his eyes went awoke, sooner his feet as he his eyelids kept on opening as he kept on trying, and his eyes could finally see through transparent butter, and he continued. Beyond his eyes were his mother, crouching right below the sides of his bed as he tilted his head above the pillow with mere inches, and he was puzzled. What was much more puzzling was that he was lying down above the bed, and not on the chair's butt-rest. He was shocked, but he needed to focus somewhere much more needy of his attention, and words soon followed his drowsy lips, and reached his mother as she was reaching for something and sweeping them with the littlest of broom she could find and sweeping them right in the dust bin. And Micael's voice sounded aback and far from the usual; much more of a morning dew's quite possession right unto his voice.
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