“We’re going to be late.”
“It’s only three; we’ve got forty-five minutes to get there.”
“I repeat: we are going to be late.”
“Come on, when have you ever been on time to a funeral?”
Despite the never-ending banter, Gerard felt like he could relax. His friends had offered to accompany him to the funeral of a man he had hardly known, and yet one who had meant the world to him. He had put on a black suit for the occasion, and the air around seemed to have reflected in turn with a grey filter, turning the world around him to a matted pessimism.
“Where is it exactly, Gerard?”
“Turn right here and it’s just under that little bridge, Mary.”
“Got it.” Mary twisted the steering wheel and they found themselves at their destination.
It was in that brief moment of pause, just before getting out of the car, that all their paths were entwined by a singular act so precise that its potency could not be evaded. The car which had been driving slowly behind them had turned into the other road, yet was now coming back at an alarming speed. Gerard had a moment to relive his short live before the darkness took him, clawing at everything he had and draining him of all he could possibly get.
With rasping breaths, the savior of the rainforest thrashed within the world of dreams.
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Manuel had never seen much of the world. In fact, he had seen startlingly little of it.
That’s why, when the tourist group passed slowly out of the village like ghosts, he followed closely. He was only fourteen admittedly, yet his imagination and child-like reasoning was already assuming the better of him. There was a mop of deep black hair upon his head, which glinted with navy blue in the bright sun, much like his brilliant and staring eyes. Many often said he had the gaze of a person fascinated with everything they were shown.
Possession of a curious and insightful mind such as his often landed him in more trouble than one might think; however, no encounter with any authoritative figure or punishment had dissuaded him thus far from his exploration. He was dismally disappointed to have his mother lecture him on the values of remaining within the village, and scoffed silently at his father’s assurances that he would never leave. His parents were not cruel, and he knew that they loved him – they were simply close-minded. They had not felt the pull of the world like he did every waking moment.
So far, his expectations had been intensely subverted. Manuel knew of the greatly complex machines used by outsiders to travel near the village – wheeled boxes of steel and gears, and foul-smelling too. He was aware of the long barrels that projected small pellets of metal deep into the flesh of wild animals and, as he presumed, other men. The only thing that had struck his mind this time was peculiarly alien to any of his previous fancies.
The leaves had grown so dense this year that he was finding it difficult to catch sight of the foreigners as they left the village borders. He climbed from branch to branch, the thick bark gorging on his skin as he moved and leaving him with many small cuts and bruises as souvenirs of their hostility. Many who did not know the jungle thought that the greatest danger was to end up in half-devoured shreds at the feet of some violent jungle leopard, or other monster; what they did not know was that the forest plants could be twice as fatal.
To his dismay, he soon lost sight of the tourists, and after searching for them for a good half an hour, he decided to return home so as not to worry his mother. She had been particularly watchful as of late, due to his recent outbursts in front of the Elder and the other village children. Manuel was not ashamed of his curious nature, and often attempted to make others see that there was a world beyond theirs that they did not know of.
“Your mother is looking for you.” An elderly man grunted when Manuel walked past. He nodded and thanked the man in their native tongue, hurrying all the more back home. He saw his mother waiting for him outside the front door, her expression stern, yet not angered.
“It’s late for you to be fooling around. Come inside, we have dinner.” She spoke abruptly and to the point, as was her nature.
Manuel ate dinner in silence, listening patiently to his younger brother and older sister bicker over who would go into the forest the next day to gather dry wood for their fire. His mother attempted to hush them for the first few minutes, but gave up and focused on chewing the dry rice, a gleam of longing for fresh fruits and salted meat decorating her eyes.
While he lay in bed, Manuel could think of only one thing. There was no-one else in the village who shared his love for unraveling the world around them, and yet today he had seen someone who was just as hypnotized by what they experienced of life as he was. Her warm, hazel eyes had absorbed every detail of what she was seeing, and now that he came to think of it, she herself was a sight which would take your breath away.
Never before had he encountered a being of such immeasurable beauty – her hair twisted in a way that was graceful, unlike the ragged locks of some of the women in the village, and it was of a beautiful stained gold, not matted brown or black. She had a pale face, with sharp features that seemed delicate – he knew, however, that she was tough. There was pain in her eyes, alongside the longing for knowledge and thirst for answers, and this darkened her image; she looked upon the trees, homes and people with questions in her mind, yet sympathy for all she saw.
He lay awake for much of that night, thinking of the girl with pity for the world - never herself - in her eyes.
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