him.
He frowned at me, but a yawn stopped whatever he planned on saying. “Sorry,” he murmured. “I do not want to get up for school tomorrow.” He paused, looking at his clock. “This morning.”
“What is the point of going to school?”
“To bore the crap out of me.” He yawned again, and then glanced at me. “You're serious? To learn.”
“Learn what?”
He sighed in frustration. “You're always asking questions. Why this, why that. You don't get anything about humans, do ya?”
“I get you need to eat to live. And sleep.”
“You understand survival. Or maybe it's deeper than that. It's the only thing left in you, everything else disappeared.” He nodded thoughtfully.
I tilted my head, mulling his words. “My caring for you didn’t disappear. Somehow it survived.”
He looked at me, a tired look in his eyes as he smiled. “Yeah, some things never change… or die.”
****
Energy flowed through me as soon as the sun set. I dug myself out of the ground, shaking dirt off my clothes and washing my hands, face and hair in the lake. I sat on the bank, letting the cool breeze dry my skin, staring at the sky. It was clear, stars growing brighter as the last glow of the sun faded.
As was my routine, I headed to the city. The streets I travelled were now familiar from walking them on a nightly basis.
Three rhythms beat on the lower floor when I reached the house. I wandered around, peering through the curtains. In the living room, two humans sat in chairs next to each other, their backs to me. Had to be my aunt and uncle. My brother sat on the couch, a heavy book next to him and a thinner one on his lap. He looked up when my aunt and uncle laughed at the TV.
“Danny,” my aunt said and I softly growled at her. “Did you take the trash out after dinner?”
“Um, I forgot. I can do it now.” He set his books aside.
“Best to wait until tomorrow; don't want any parasites sneaking up,” my uncle said.
“It's just to the end of the driveway, I'm sure nothing's gonna snatch me.” My brother turned his gaze towards our uncle, his eyes widening when he saw me through the curtains. “I… I’ll go do it real quick.”
“Take your thrower,” my aunt said.
“Got it.” My brother darted out of the room. “What are you doing?” he demanded when I met him at the front door.
I took the bag from him. “I always come here when I wake.”
“But standing outside the window?” He sighed as he led the way to the end of the driveway. He pulled a lid off a large tin can, releasing a foul smell.
“I was trying to figure out how to get your attention.” I set the bag in the can. “This stinks like a homeless human.”
He laughed and replaced the lid. “Well, you definitely got my attention. See you upstairs.”
I darted around the house, scrambled up the side and waited. He appeared a few minutes later, sliding the window open and leaning out.
“Can I see your mini flame-thrower?” I asked.
He nodded and plucked the device off his dresser, handing it to me. The device was simple, a black cylinder with a nozzle at one end and a trigger. I turned it over, seeing a white sticker full of writing and symbols.
Warning: Flammable contents. Store at room temperature. Do not freeze! Do not put in fire! To ignite, hold upright and pull trigger. Hold away from face and body. If burned, called 911. Keep out of reach of children.
“Do you want to light it?” he asked, giving me an encouraging nod.
I held the thrower out, following the instructions and pulled the trigger. A foot long flame shot out and heat burned my skin. I yanked my hand away and the thrower rattled down the roof and off the edge. I followed it to the ground, scooping it up and climbing back up.
“Are you okay?” he asked as I handed the thrower back. “I saw a second of flame and you disappeared and reappeared. I think I need a slow-mo switch for you.”
“I’m fine,” I replied. “What were you writing
He frowned at me, but a yawn stopped whatever he planned on saying. “Sorry,” he murmured. “I do not want to get up for school tomorrow.” He paused, looking at his clock. “This morning.”
“What is the point of going to school?”
“To bore the crap out of me.” He yawned again, and then glanced at me. “You're serious? To learn.”
“Learn what?”
He sighed in frustration. “You're always asking questions. Why this, why that. You don't get anything about humans, do ya?”
“I get you need to eat to live. And sleep.”
“You understand survival. Or maybe it's deeper than that. It's the only thing left in you, everything else disappeared.” He nodded thoughtfully.
I tilted my head, mulling his words. “My caring for you didn’t disappear. Somehow it survived.”
He looked at me, a tired look in his eyes as he smiled. “Yeah, some things never change… or die.”
****
Energy flowed through me as soon as the sun set. I dug myself out of the ground, shaking dirt off my clothes and washing my hands, face and hair in the lake. I sat on the bank, letting the cool breeze dry my skin, staring at the sky. It was clear, stars growing brighter as the last glow of the sun faded.
As was my routine, I headed to the city. The streets I travelled were now familiar from walking them on a nightly basis.
Three rhythms beat on the lower floor when I reached the house. I wandered around, peering through the curtains. In the living room, two humans sat in chairs next to each other, their backs to me. Had to be my aunt and uncle. My brother sat on the couch, a heavy book next to him and a thinner one on his lap. He looked up when my aunt and uncle laughed at the TV.
“Danny,” my aunt said and I softly growled at her. “Did you take the trash out after dinner?”
“Um, I forgot. I can do it now.” He set his books aside.
“Best to wait until tomorrow; don't want any parasites sneaking up,” my uncle said.
“It's just to the end of the driveway, I'm sure nothing's gonna snatch me.” My brother turned his gaze towards our uncle, his eyes widening when he saw me through the curtains. “I… I’ll go do it real quick.”
“Take your thrower,” my aunt said.
“Got it.” My brother darted out of the room. “What are you doing?” he demanded when I met him at the front door.
I took the bag from him. “I always come here when I wake.”
“But standing outside the window?” He sighed as he led the way to the end of the driveway. He pulled a lid off a large tin can, releasing a foul smell.
“I was trying to figure out how to get your attention.” I set the bag in the can. “This stinks like a homeless human.”
He laughed and replaced the lid. “Well, you definitely got my attention. See you upstairs.”
I darted around the house, scrambled up the side and waited. He appeared a few minutes later, sliding the window open and leaning out.
“Can I see your mini flame-thrower?” I asked.
He nodded and plucked the device off his dresser, handing it to me. The device was simple, a black cylinder with a nozzle at one end and a trigger. I turned it over, seeing a white sticker full of writing and symbols.
Warning: Flammable contents. Store at room temperature. Do not freeze! Do not put in fire! To ignite, hold upright and pull trigger. Hold away from face and body. If burned, called 911. Keep out of reach of children.
“Do you want to light it?” he asked, giving me an encouraging nod.
I held the thrower out, following the instructions and pulled the trigger. A foot long flame shot out and heat burned my skin. I yanked my hand away and the thrower rattled down the roof and off the edge. I followed it to the ground, scooping it up and climbing back up.
“Are you okay?” he asked as I handed the thrower back. “I saw a second of flame and you disappeared and reappeared. I think I need a slow-mo switch for you.”
“I’m fine,” I replied. “What were you writing
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