Screenager

You think you are stepping into a world of your own idealities, a world that you are in control of - but nothing is ever perfect. The feelings of one boy is outlined by the screen at which he faces perhaps not his greatest moments, but his most prefered - or so he thinks. The question is, where do you draw the line between virtuality and reality?

Half a meter away, he could admire the golden trees, the glimmer in the air of absent rain that never actually fell, the crunch of fallen leaves as Master walked towards the large maple tree. A glorious sun set in the distance and the faint outlines of moons varying in size began to graze the surface of the sky.

He sat in a crouch, chewing on his lower lip with his fingers hovering in front of him, shaking slightly. Perhaps it's just the cold, perhaps it's something else.

"What are you afraid of?"

The vibration of the speaker startled him a little; he had been detached from reality - or whatever this was - for minutes and his eyes had begun to glaze over, but now he was brought back down to Earth. One hand made its way towards the speaker and turned up the volume a fraction.

"What?"

The word sounded cracked as it fell from his lips and he realised his mouth was dry and that he needed a drink, but right then he felt he was too rooted to the spot to get up and go downstairs. His hair was short and dark and fell in waves, stopping just before it reached his water eyes. Yet when he sat here, where his face was illuminated, his soft facial features became jaunty and angular, his hair straight and spiked upwards, his eyes simply black. His legs and torso were longer, more idealistic to the users' standards.

"You're scared."

No I'm not.

"Yes you are. Your hands are shaking."

How do you know?

Master turned around, the underfoot crunch now a little more audible than before, and she came into view. First he noticed her pink hair clashing against the reds and golds of Autumn's remains and for a minute the two said nothing. Then she walked towards him until she was close enough to kiss.

He imagined her placing her hand on his face and he blinked hard and wedged his hands into his armpits in an attempt to warm them up and keep them out of...sight?

"Is this goodbye, Marc?"

The water eyes lowered and the brow that sat above them furrowed slightly. Master turned away so that she was out of sight again. He walked past the maple tree, to the cliff's edge and stood alone before the huge, darkening sky.

~Unfurrow your brow, let your tongue fall from the roof of your mouth, unclench your lips and let your hands unfold. Forget, disconnect, detach. You are not here anymore, I am not with you anymore, there is no one. Feel yourself float away and shut off your mind - listen to the silence that befalls you.~

"I never said you could call me that."

"How are you feeling today, Marc?"

"I don't want to talk to you."

Yes you do. You come here to see me.

"No, I don't! I come here to...to..." He searched desperately for an excuse that wouldn't ruin his disregarded presence that he thought he longed to retain. Those water eyes glazed over again as the stars sparkled above Master's silhouette and his spiked hair swayed in the gentle, silent breeze. 
The landscape is more beautiful than the view from my window.

The End

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