Small Boy, running... What will he find?

The young boy ran quickly, his breaths coming in quick short gasps.  He carried some rope in his hands and almost tripped over it. 
   The dark sky seemed to reflect his mood.  It was early in the morning, the sky turning a dark but deep blue.
   Tears streamed down the boys face as he ran into the cemetery, the metal gate clanging after him.
   His arrival attracted the attention of a hooded shape.  The thing whirled around, the only thing visible other than the black of it’s cloak were two eyes, which glowed like white embers into the dark.
    The boy ran over to a tree close to the figure.  He couldn’t see the thing, even when it walked right next to him.  He panted and puffed and tried to tie the rope over a branch a couple inches above his head.
    The shape closed it’s eyes, and the boy finally managed to tie it up.  The figure opened it’s eyes again and put a covered hand out, as if to untie the rope. It’s hand slid through the rope and the knot in a futile attempt to stop the boy. Finally after trying so hard the figure opened it’s mouth as if to talk.  “Don’t do it boy.” It said, a small whisper in the dark.
    The boy jumped and looked around frantically, trying to find the owner of the voice. “Who are you?” He whispered speaking through a sob.  He saw nothing out of the ordinary and his face turned even paler in the light of the full moon. 
     “My name...” the figure whispered again, as if afraid to raise it’s voice higher than that. “I can’t remember my name, the others all call me Pegmatite. My name is Pegmatite.” The figure said almost confidently this time. “Don’t do it boy.”
    The boys face hardened. “I’m always being told what to do.” He screamed. “And no matter how good I do it he always hurts me again.” The boy began to sob, and then he slowly crawled up the tree to the branch. He pulled the loop over his head.
    “Don’t-” Pegmatite began, but it was to late the boy had jumped, his eyes looked at Pegmatite and seemed to see her for the first time before his eyes closed.. one last time.
       The next day the villagers all looked frantically for the boy. They found the rope but they could never find his body.
       The boys best friend was looking through the graveyard, and then he found a small grave, unmarked except for a shard of Pegmatite on it, and the words ‘Boy’ scratched into the hard dirt.  He picked it up, fingered it slightly and placed it in his pocket. The living boy didn't notice two cloaked figures, one smaller than the other, stand over him, white eyes glowing beneath their hoods...

The End

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