Day 1

The sun was hot and it burned his skin despite the baseball cap that shadowed his face. It was two in the afternoon and he had been at it since early this morning. Walking up the hill, sometimes skating up. It didn’t really matter. Then with just one pause to take in the hill and its enormity, he skated downhill. For the first few hours it was something to make him feel alive. The cars of people using the road to get to work only added to the fun. It was an element of danger, especially the blind corner where cars couldn’t see you very clearly.

Now, at least seven hours since he had started, his only companion was the sun and the whine of mosquitoes that flew at his face. Another time another set of priorities he might have cared enough to swat them away. Today was different. Just like the next month would be different. He walked uphill, his face turned to the burning asphalt as he walked uphill, skateboard in one hand dragging on the road.

The scraping noise it made sounded like nails on a chalkboard or a skeleton hand on glass. He decided it sounded more like the latter. He let his board scrape harder to make the sound louder. He wanted everyone to hear this noise. The sound of bones. To remind them that such noise existed. He didn’t want to be the only one who had this knowledge, it hurt too much.

Just like discovering just how fragile our mortality is when it should be the furthest thing on your mind. At this age anyway. He had reached the top of the hill now and he stopped again to look at the hill. Its size seemed to have shrunk; maybe it was because his fear had evaporated along with all the morning dew. He drank it all in, the distance between the top of the hill and the junction that led to the busy roads, the houses that lined either side of the road all empty and dead with their occupants at work or school.

Stepping onto the piece of wood that had once been his most treasured possession until yesterday. Yesterday had pretty much screwed up everything. Both feet were on the board now and he had pushed off. He leaned left, and then right, then left, then right till he had a steady rhythm that let him tear downhill in a crazy zigzag. He jumped off his board at the junction when he saw a car speeding towards him. The board shot out from underneath his feet, flew past the car and into the drain opposite. He had fallen onto his knees and he could already feel little stinging stabs of pain.

He stared at the drain for a little while. Wondering if he should get the board back. Deciding he turned away and walked past the houses back up the hill. He would take the long way home that would mean walking past old landmarks like his old kindergarten and the playground he used to go to as a little kid. He wanted to see if he felt anything. Anything besides the unspeakable rage that bubbled at the surface of his head.

He stopped in his tracks when he saw a familiar face watching him in dreamy nonchalance. They went to the same church, had been in the same youth camps. They didn’t really know each other very well. He knew who she was but he didn’t know her. Her hair was tousled and falling in her face. She was wearing baggy cotton shorts and a big faded t-shirt that told him she had just woken up despite the fact that it was two in the afternoon on a school day.

“You didn’t go to school today.”

There was nothing accusatory in her voice. It was merely an observation. School had been let out fifty minutes ago or more and she had just woken up, she couldn’t have known he had skipped unless she had been watched the whole time.

“How do you know? You just woke up.”

He couldn’t help the challenging way he said it. It seemed to come naturally now. Strange how 24 hours could change the way you behaved.

“Been watching you since one.”

She replied lazily as she shifted her weight from one leg to the other. Face cupped in hands she kept looking at him in an interested way.

“Don’t you have anything better to do?”

His voice was filled with resentment. He couldn’t waste time. He had to do something every minute of the day.

“I was drawing you.”

She said it so simply. As if it were a completely normal thing to do, to draw ones acquaintances in your pyjamas.

“I had a dream about you last night. I dreamt you were fighting everyone. You were mad because someone told you that you were dying.”

The words made him freeze. He felt the icy fingers grip his spine and turn it so that his ribs faced the sky. He felt icicles dragging across his ribs like they were playing the xylophone. Every note they played were her words ringing out one by one and dropping clearly on his head.

“Well I am.”

He hated himself for the way he choked on the words. The loathing subsided only a little when he didn’t turn back to look when she shouted out at him. She’d spoken the truth.

We all are.

A/N There might be more chapters to this. I'm having some rather disconcerting dreams about people I know dying...