Set forth, into the outdoors, the crisp morning air of the late autumn season was breathed into their lungs that felt the cold coming of winter. There was a desolate marathon of automobiles whose running of retro engines only the half and full-rich could ever have afforded exhausted a scent of diesel that was no cheaper than a meal of luxury per short trip. Fleeting down the urban street that had the standard width of any residential zone, the mixture of tarmac and concrete were left unmarked and poorly paved, where there was an abundant share of shallow potholes that were but wide cavities. Vast, like that of the sea behind them, from where the horns of distant ships harbored in the deep water port, blared out of the famed Angler Channel, the great body of saltwater that separated the islanders afraid, from their rival and ally mainlanders. There was a fleet worth in numbers, anchored behind the storm shelter that led out from the square of the town’s waterfront where in the morning of markets, the template of voices resounded into the atmosphere for the gods to wake before. Bells chimed, of every size, from stalls to the single tram line that led along the road of the center. The waving of colored flags and the violent whirl of wooden anemometers decorated the vendors selling their catch of marine life, where voices of the fishermen were loud but their customers were even louder. It filled the earth with a humanly vitality, beneath the cawing of gulls from the soft hillside that was more prominent to them. The creatures glided and soared, sometimes magically afloat in the air with leaves from trees stripped naked by the gradual decline in temperature by the days. Yet some were so stubborn to hold onto however few orange leaves that remained, but at last, were plucked to fall onto the ground where they were trampled and sapped of life. Becoming rotten and brown in the puddles of thin ice formed overnight which were cracked by the warming sun that was rare on a day such as that. Nevertheless, His appearance was much appreciated, in dissipating the clouds and bringing in the clear blue skies and the color of the world alive. Only a single orange yolk of a star tinted the plain heavens.
The sea breeze was dryer than usual that day, often with a taste of salt on his lips. With the warmth that was felt on his skin, he huffed, to test how great of a steam cloud he could produce. His lashes flicked away the dust in the air from a single blink, whilst his cap was lowered for it not to be blown away and wrapped ever tighter his scarf around his neck. That was in the year four hundred and eighty-eight when his name was Arminius Reichner. A schoolboy of a slight ten years, though nearly at his eleventh. His skin was healthily pale, slightly noble-esque, and had less of a face of a girl than he once did when he was younger whose mouth was always turned up in a smile. He defined the natural collaboration of prettiness and handsomeness, and was taller than the average of his age to add. Proud in his posture, Arminius seemed almost egotistical, but that would only be considered by one who has failed to acknowledge that as a mere facade. As he tread, carefully, he would make doubly sure that he avoided the sprouting flowers from the tiled path and never stepped on a single blade of grass unless needed. Unlike any of those of his year, the boy was keenly set on his belief on fate. Though whatever he thought then, perhaps ever, we would never know. His mind remained a great unknown that we could never decipher but it was always placed on the future. Always onward. In that moment, it was the path of their front yard between two rows of evergreen trees that he aimed down for the black gate between the red brick walls. He was hardly distracted nor strayed from anything, at least, if it was something in his agenda.
There, his sister waited, spinning around and holding onto the gate’s latch with her freezing fingers until Arminius had finally caught up. Elise was eternally gleeful, as she took a step down onto the pavement, her brother followed, closing the gate behind with squealing hinges. Having locked shut their front entrance, the two, on the sidewalk, stood ready to separate for the day.
“I’ve gotta run now.” Elise, shorter than Arminius, only before the common growth spurt would naturally hit her, looked up at him.
Raising herself by the tip of her toes, with quite some strength to balance, she leaned ahead and gave Arminius a peck on his lips before losing to gravity and landing innocently. Turned away, she ran down the street in a hurry, unafraid of slipping or injuring herself in an accident. She was most afraid of missing the start of class, which for her entire school-life, had never been voluntarily excused from. Down the row of houses, where each had its own uniqueness, she soon caught up to her friends already in the far on the way to her school. Her head sunk beneath the brow of the sloped road, and just to assure himself that Elise was safe, Arminius had stayed watching her. When he was certain that she had gone, he began along another way, uphill. Pulling out an audio player, the boy swiped through a list of songs that had been recorded into its database and saw one playlist that understood the mood of the morning. With one list chosen, his earphones were plugged in, before pressing a button to play its first track. By instinct, he began to walk in its beat. His hands were stuck in his pockets, continuing his hike, unaffected by the slowly inclining heights.117Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡ63gGcVjwEc
