A strip of sunlight was what remained, coloring the southwest horizon, from a sinking sun that was a small yolk broken beneath the waves that crashed against the windy shores. On the mergence between land and sea was a panel of a shadow, laid over the waters that was shimmering no more. As the easterly winds picked up, flags stuttered before being violently flapped above the markets whose hosts had packed up and gone home. But stores and restaurants were still wide open, intriguing and welcoming guests from the town that stayed lively during the working week’s end. Bands sung and pedestrians orchestrated their audiences. The last ferries sailed out into the harbor, of late arrivals and early departures, under the heavens which were gone of blue. The canvas was pitch black, without a single star in the sky, except for their nearest whose soft tint of orange faded by the minute. Replaced by a moon in her first quarter, revealed out of her camouflage, the white rock broke the desolate skies and illuminated the cloudless world over the channel. Its brightness, of more than a hue, intensified as the evening progressed, and to match her godly worth, the humans who she cared for flicked on their mixture of electric and gas street lanterns. Smoke continued to rise from houses’ chimneys which exhaled the fumes of fires throughout the entire day, puffing stacks that had formed a veil of a soft silken sheet over their roofs. Windows bursted with light as cats of their households roamed the bare streets. Some were bright enough to nap indoors beside the fireplace or on the window sills where they could overlook the sidewalks parked with lines of families’ cars when driveways had been filled. The weekend was, for many, belonging at home. Where not one automobile drove by when the indoors were so vibrant. With the sizzling of pans and the loud chatter over their children chasing about, half a dozen or dozens of them would huddle together in their living rooms. After the schools had closed and were only due to reopen the coming week, one had not as they allowed their last two students to exit, yet to return to their homes.
The final lamps shut in their classroom, and out they stepped, feeling the drastic dip in the mercury. Around them, the air was almost freezing, and it could not be helped that they had not prepared to return so late, shivering from their lack of layers. Hurrying out of the campus to warm themselves, the lanterns beside them in the entryway shutted, pair by pair. As they raced past the gates, where the gatekeepers had already been dismissed, one helped to close it behind them. Rattling as it was pulled onto its latch, it was locked from the inside and would not budge from outside as he tested with a push. Finally freed from school, their breaths steamed from a sigh, before traveling along the deserted sidewalk downhill. Taking cautious steps on their journey, they rubbed their hands that had whitened from the cold, strolling in no real hurry after their punishment. With thumbs looped around his bag’s straps, some vibrations and beeps from one’s jacket’s inner pocket suddenly sounded. Alerted, Arminius took out yet another wonder of an electronic device. A pager. It was no cheap variant of the technology. He snapped open its screen and the sounds halted when Colt received a similar tone of notification.
Dü kmn hr? (U cmn ovr?) An abbreviated message was worded on their greenish displays.
“You still heading to Edmund’s?” Colt asked his friend.
Still considering, although it seemed like his mind had been made from the boredom in class that had drained whatever mental capacity he had.128Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡ6wDGVgtnoS
Arminius closed his eyes and decided in a short while. “Nah,” He closed his pager and slipped it into his jacket. “But I’ll swing by your place tomorrow for some sparring.” In return, so he would not appear detached from his friends, he promised at least.
With an excitement and energy that could not often be found at the end of a school day, Colt did not seem to have been stolen of his soul by the ghost of detention.128Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡVCcg7lw3tc
Springing in his steps, he spun around and pointed at Arminius as he went down another way. “Alright! I’ll hold you to that!” Colt shouted, for all the gods to hear that a promise has been made.
About he turned and gave a waving hand from ahead, walking joyously as if he was dancing on the pavement. Typing on his pager, the boy informed Edmund of his coming, but held no attention for the road as he tripped and stumbled over the bumps on the sidewalk. Undistracted, he went on whilst Arminius looked on at the jester of the pack, stood at the junction, where thus far, a single car had drove by and indicated to turn. Its rubber wheels screeched and marked the road with a print from its sharp turn. From its gears shifting, the engine worked and rumbled away, sneezing a leakage of a scent of gas from its exhaust as it proceeded down the hillside road. There, the individual estates of lords and statesmen were erected, with walls wrapped around their prestigious homes with plates denoting each family’s house and title. They oversaw the town that they commanded, and Colt of course, who quickened into a jog beneath the judging eyes of the aristocrats, onto the path following the headlights of the automobile swinging around a curve weaving between trees. When his friend had disappeared into the early darkness of the evening, Arminius pulled out his pair of earphones and plugged it into his audio player. Crossing the road when the world was his’, he made his way down the winding street and clicked on a button on his device. The chorus of the fourth song played again and he changed his pace, naturally once more, into the beats of the bass.128Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡvD9vNgCWR1
