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Printed from https://www.Writing.Com/view/2132154
Rated: 13+ · Fiction · Dark · #2132154
♕ i n w h i c h m a n s t u m b l e s u p o n r e a l i t y ♕
The luminous, alluring, yellow vehicle that even though loomed at the creatures down below, still attracted the beasts of the cornering dominating pine trees whose branches grasped out like unsheathed claws and luscious, abundant vegetation attempting to desperately get a grip. Lengthy fields of herbage enveloped the only form of what appeared to be civilization. The saplings, timbers, and wood all impose the state of rapidly evolving species, not another cast of the same kind will show their faces for miles out there in what is called the wild. An environment of what could overthrow the mankind from the inside out, the thought of being stranded, no communication for days, no such object as a laundry machine, toilet or a cell phone will be natural here. Items that you have been taking for granted will be non-existent in this setting.

Contained inside the mobile machine were mere adolescent children which appeared to be held obliviously captive and though the civilized soon-to-be men were having their time of their lives, all of them overlooked what ghoulish nature could overcome their candle-like souls. What could emerge from the depths of neglected traits that existed in all of the mankind was unspeakable and ineffable. Luckily, for now, a couple of the human species that sat readily in their seats of the moving carrier that reveals their fate have become the slightest bit conscious of their end.

In the middle grounds of the whole seats, that performs in an array of from beginning to end, sat a sharp twelve-year-old body built like an amateur marathoner. His legs were based on top of the seat in such an improper manner with his acute elbows propped on his knee as he observed the passing tall and rich trees, a malicious environment only to be masked by chanting birds with various octaves and timbres to the sound of the grasshopper rubbing their back legs together to create a catchy tune. The boy's eyes fluctuated to each moving object or item as if he were to be an assassin adjusting his sniper rifle in the correct position to get a better aim on his target. Though the child's eyes were more obscure; a color that resembles the hue of the Jerusalem cherry. Such an enticing bright color like the sun's rays. The cherry is a really tempting berry at that, except, cloaked inside behind the skin of the appalling exterior was toxic juices that provoke the reaction of throwing up, the result of such disgust and contempt, a treasured desire that deceives many of those who consume it. Even then, there are more corruptive descriptions more than the venomous seed of an eye but until then, the kid's hair was more of just a maze; barren, dusty strands and clumps that swirled and curled similar to half-boiled noodles. It wasn't though a mop, but more an intricate pattern, a chronic arrangement.

The adolescent picked up to the conversations of nursery rhymes that the younger males at the back sang with such precision and enthusiasm, but unlike his, their eyes expressed such joyful fun, such endless amusement, such an eternal entertainment. The male's eyes slowly and uninterestedly flicked to the tour guide who stated instructions of how to survive in the wilderness, such as, how to construct a fire, how to create a base and other tedious yet necessary information. The boy believed that it was highly unlikely that such situation would happen to him. He let out a small scoff in aggravation to what the tour guide was saying. He then lifts his elbow from his knee and places his hand comfortably under his very defined jaw. One that looks like it can pierce you if you were to tap your finger on it.

He peered over to the juvenile of most likely the same age sitting appropriately next to him who incorporated the same mannerisms and attitude like the smaller boys at the back. He glimpsed at the child, a melodious song escaped from the kid's mouth as he concentrated forward. He was a very athletic built person, a body type that many of the other children didn't accommodate. His bleached mistletoe intense shirt contrasted against the blood red overall strap that held against each other, connected by only a click, though, the opposite strap had already tired out, its limp body lying by the owner's side. The sharp boy's eyes leaned down towards the organism of the same species' arms, a more buff and obviously muscled arm that displays assorted workouts and exercises the kid must have done before.

"Hey, how much hours did Coach Maxwell say this ride was?" The curly-haired boy stated with a style of a voice that simulates a man of the British origin, a soft yet demanding voice, a startling type of pronunciations that still flow.
The inattentive boy tilted his head to the direction of his left where the pointed-jaw boy slumped. The puffy-haired kid examined the creature's face like a pathologist scrutinizing a rotting corpse during an autopsy with careful accuracy and rigor looks. The boy that sat adjacent to him had a very smooth and delicate face, a pixie nose that arose from the middle, being surrounded by clouding light freckles that litter a whole section of the child's face. Round and huge eyes occupied the space above, eyes that numerous amounts of the human population would envy. A dense and extravagant floral green like a copy of the undergrowth in the thick forests cluttered with creepy crawlies and a ceaseless process of what is known to be the circle of life. A powerful being capturing their prey only to be fattened up and be eaten from the next ultra and superior entity. The boy's irises were trapped with sophisticated lines that may represent the vines and thickets of the jungle, an organism that even when has the capability of synthesizing its own food from inorganic energy such has light still pursuits onto the very food that pretty much the majority of the animal kind embody- meat. A craved diet that is specific in the survival of several animals, a food choice that could be digested in various ways. The very ends of the boy's lips turned upwards resembling a smile.

"You sure did scare me there, boy. As of now, the ride to the camp won't be as long, maybe at least 30 minutes. But since you already got me so worked up on this fine arvo, please do tell your name," the boy responded with such a bold voice. A voice that if he may use correctly, he'd be in a singing competition or show.

The brown-hair tween's lips curled in such a strange way, it seemed that he is attempting to smile but instead, it comes out to look like he ate a sour and bitter lemon candy.

"Isaiah. Isaiah Harvey. And as for you?"

"Christopher! Christopher Hartman in fact. Oh yes, and I'm sincerely sorry to say this but for the whole entire ride until now, you seemed pretty glum, ya know, like sad. Up until you talked to me, I actually you were a sook."

saiah's expression retracted into a grimace, his eyes squinting a bit at the terminology and theme hidden under what appeared to be concernment and sympathetic feelings.

"A what now? Are you telling me I'm gutted? It's not exactly my fault that this tour isn't at all interesting."

Now it was Christopher's turn to become perplexed at the vocabulary that his newly made acquaintance made. He scratched his head bewildered at the jargon his comrade has spoken.

Isaiah's eyes lingered towards the area of which Christopher was scratching and once his eyes have made contact, his facial features sneered with resentment. A thoroughly brushed hair at that, the mixtures of hues and intensities whirled and churned throughout the young boy's hair. In general, the hair presented out to be a soft honey color that if left not brushed, it'd display a similar appearance to what Isaiah has. The delicate honey blend of hair was styled towards the front direction in order for it to introduce a professional and experienced look, one that shows high maintenance and a worry of hygiene. Though honey blond is a charming and handsome style, he'd be attracting everyone, which is compared to the systematic organization of bees and honey. A constant need for nectar in order to appease the queen. An obedient army in which she maintains, the boy that sat next to Isaiah is just what he appeared to be- a follower.

}Isaiah cleared his throat before losing the interest in the conversation.

"So, what is your favorite activity to do?" Isaiah announced as if the awkward and stiff conversation from before never happened at all.

Christopher glanced up concentrating before glaring back with another small smile which reveals a narrow yet present gap in between his two front upper teeth, making him look like a farmer in general, the only accessory that he would be missing is a straw hat that most stereotypical farmers would wear.

"Swimming, of course. I can't get enough of it! Just feeling the cool water splash against your skin as you race with others, it's so cool! But, the only thing I hate about swimming is when I have to do the butterfly stroke, it's really hard to do, it's always pull up your arms and then dive or something like that. Freestyle and backstroke are the top two I do."

Isaiah nodded his light tan head eagerly to the response. He guessed that this boy has done a sport that requires the majority of your muscles, specifically the core due to the fact that he looks so much stronger and more brute. "That's cool. I don't know how to swim. Actually, the only sport I do is basketball. I'm pretty fas-"

"Wait a second," Christopher declared with an up of an eyebrow, "You don't know how to swim?"

Isaiah narrowed his eyes in embarrassment due to the fact that he doesn't know how to swim. He knew that the majority of his classmates and friends had the capability to swim, but swimming isn't exactly his best interest. The boy always considered the process of floating and swimming but never got the gist and fun out of it. The need to always resurface to the precious air that is vital was confusing and what seemed to be difficult work. The thought of how something beneath the water can grab you and pull you into the dark abyss. Anything can lurk in the water, even if mankind has been here for so long, only less than five percent of the Earth's oceans have been explored. Who knows what can lie at the very depths of the bottom?

"Harvey? You okay bud?"

Isaiah shook his head in utter humiliation of what he was thinking. Just because of thinking of water, he already had a sick feeling churning in his stomach. How ironic, he thought. Humans are seventy percent made of water.

"Yea, I'm fine, don't worry. Oh, and why did you call me Harvey? I only go by Isaiah."

Christopher itched at his scalp again with a nervous grin and shallowed eyes. The skin around his eyes seems to loosen, almost as if he looks older than he is.

"Aye, sorry, I usually do that to all my friends, I typically call them by their last name, which is super weird since no one calls me by my last name. Also, Hartman is a really weird last name, even when it is spelled, H-a-r-t-m-a-n, it sounds like you'd spell it as H-e-a-r-t-m-a-n. Get it? But it'd be cool if it was spelt that way. Yours is pretty cool too, Harvey sounds like a soldier, that's so awesome!"

}Isaiah raised a thick eyebrow at him as he tilted his head at the looks of this boy. What a strange fellow. Even then, the boy seems too generous, too kind, too friendly. He'd be a push-over if he keeps this act up. Isaiah also noticed that he tends to ramble on a bit.

"Anyways, why did you apply to this summer camp? Surely, you didn't act upon your liking. The only reason why I'm here is because my parents believed I needed a 'breath of fresh air' and not spending too much time on my consoles."

"Well, my reason is definitely different than yours. I applied because I like nature. It's a relaxing environment like when you're meditating. It feels as if the world has stopped. Everything terrible has been recovered and gone and that you could start anew. It also is a better choice than summer school."

Isaiah immediately shook his head towards Christopher's direction at the word, 'school.' His lips curled tightly in an upside down smile. One that appears to be a mixture between a sneer and a smirk at the same time. Even from earlier when it looked like he ate bitter lemons, it now looks like he ate something sweet and bitter.

"School is rubbish. It's boring and uninteresting. Nothing ever goes on at school. Just the same excuse every single day, you wake up, get dressed, eat, go to school, write, calculate, eat, go to P.E, go home, do your homework and then restart again. Imagine having a job. Always having to do the same thing over and over. If only we didn't have all these economic needs, why can't we all just stay kids?"

Christopher's eyes expanded at the little rant that Isaiah raved in a matter of minutes. He then glanced away with a fragile smile and a movement of furrowed eyebrows.

"School isn't always bull dust. School is a necessity for our lives so we can learn about the world around us, about other people, about the capabilities we can unlock, about the talents we reveal. Jobs are crucial so we may earn money in order to get what we want. Like a house, food, items, and to supply for our families. Same goes with laws, they play a good part beca-"

"Have you lost your marbles, you hippy? What's all this, 'Spread the word, spread the love,' you are bloody spawny that I'm not gonna take a punch at you. Laws and rules are ridiculous, they saw we have our rights, then if we have the choice of stealing, then why do we get sentenced to jail, huh?"

Christopher's go-lucky smile and his shiny optimism that was expressed from his forest eyes now diminish upon the offense that was blown up at him. He starts to nudge Isaiah as a small yet serious warning. The boy's eyes lined with dislike and dishonor.

"Now, now, listen you... you person, you clearly asked me a question about my opinions and my beliefs. You say that everyone has rights and yet you won't even let me finish my reasoning. I'm sincerely sorry to say this but you're being a bit rude."

Not only the golden-haired boy give a little fit of the current situation but also did the curly-haired adolescent who, too, began to retaliate in dismay. Though, with his mouth open ready to reciprocate his own feelings, not a single utter of an attempt of a word was spoken, only an open and closing of his mouth like a gaping fish in the desperate urgency of water. But instead of shutting himself up and returning to his state from before, Isaiah initiated an act of war by declaring himself upon Christopher. His fingers trying to lacerate at his shirt and leave maroon bruises and bloody pink irritated scratches identical to a peeved cat that is trying to kill its causes. Christopher, on the other hand, had the need to let the atrocious beast beat him up due to the fact that Christopher absolutely hates it when he is brought into some situation that involves arguments and bangarangs. Christopher crammed the skinny boy against the bus window where he then held Isaiah pinned by the collar of his unbuttoned beige flannel. Isaiah, though, still had the audacity of blood-lust churning ever so violently through his unnerving eyes which seek Christopher' stoic yet sympathetic expression.

"I don't want to hurt you, Isaiah, I was just giving out my opinion, I still respect yours. Please, Isaiah, calm down, let's just eat snacks or something!" Christopher suggests soothingly as he tried with the majority of his strength to keep Isaiah at bay while inevitably struggling to pacify him at the identical moment.

"Shut up, you scrote," Isaiah screeched with irritation and indignation before kicking at him similar to a wacky screwball who has been released from a long captivity of an asylum.

The boys that circle and surround the two began chanting at such an identical and accurate rate. The adrenaline starts to seep from the angel and the demon that were being cradled in their seats as one of them fought trying to gauge the other's eyeballs out, specifically Isaiah who knew he had a very few chance of winning against someone who clearly and obviously has greater experience and background knowledge. Isaiah advanced towards Christopher, driving him off the crumpled seat with a huff. Christopher groans with excruciating pain as Isaiah stands up and pounds his foot against his chest like a lion claiming the pride lands of the savanna.

The bus driver who was screaming his vocals and lungs out at the two adjusted his mirror properly so he may get a better display of the fight that was occurring right inside his bus. The tour guide, herself, was also shrieking and wailing as she shoved her way through the pulsing and waving crowd.

}Christopher who certainly was affixed underneath the hold of Isaiah then hauled at his leg in a daring grip of his claws and ultimately brought him down with a clench where he then stood up from a tiny space and replicated the same exact moves Isaiah did except when he kicked him multiple times.

The crowd that was chanting like tribal people during a war ceremony began to incantate this horrifying and obscene lyrics before bringing their feet up and stomping the ground making a percussion sound. The other boys initiated this clapping and dance of fighting and bloodshed. What was from before of nursery rhymes and lullabies that sang beautifully from the younger children's mouth had suddenly turned into what an actor's script would be during a rated mature film. The smaller children bounced on the ripping seats as they try to clone what their elders were doing. Some of them even began to kick and pounce like wild wolves in the midst of a battle for territory. It was an immoral and crude riot that occurred inside the bus. Though, over a bit more time, it wasn't like the children on the bus even wanted to pretend play but wanted something even more. They started to develop a small lust for flesh and meat. The ache to tear at someone's what seemed to be soft and smooth skin into a chopped and ripped piece of spoiled food. It may sound like some random and sick Saw story but in reality, an instinct laid inside the hearts of the males, a curiosity to view what would happen if you recklessly fought at someone, and not just for defensive or any reasonable explanation but because of what humans love- fun.

Though unanticipatedly, the crowd that besieged the two contenders hollered and gasped in utter horror as the bus took a major swing to the left due to the inattentive eyes of the bus driver who had his vision fixed upon the fight and what appeared to be a jump and a dash of a deer who, unlike the creatures contained inside the vehicle, safely made it to its destination with ease. The vicious and unnerving acts that taken place from before vanished, as stated from earlier, the candle-like hearts of the children blazed like a gallon of gasoline was thrown in order to please the flame shortly before water extinguished it with ease. The bus driver clutched the wheel in an attempt to swerve the other the direction, though, like in any other suspense movie or story, not everything goes as planned.


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