Westering: Part One-ish (My NEW story! PLEASE READ!)

by Claudia in for it

I know I didn't really "publicize" this story, but here is the first part!!!!!!! Please comment!

West-er-ing

Adjective

(esp. of the sun) nearing the west

ORIGIN mid 17^th cent.: from the literary verb wester, from WEST

Skye and Leif shook themselves out of the worn red blankets, waking up. At the exact same time. They waved their arms in the air, breathing wisps of cold Vermont air out their noses. At the same time. They looked eight; maybe nine- but were much, much older. One who looked at them from a distance would have said they were cute- adorable little kids. But as you would walk closer, you would slow down, even stop and start to back away. Their eyes were a piercing green (and much bigger than normal)- their frames lithe- you could see their rib cage through the plain rust-colored shirts they always wore. They both had curly dark brown hair, which stopped at their shoulders and never grew longer. The sky was still a bluish-black- the color of an old bruise-, maybe five or six in the morning. 

Skye picked herself up off the grass, folding the blanket with a sigh. Leif just lay on his back, staring up at the sky with a concentrated stare. It was as if he was looking for something…

“Leif-“

“I know.” He got up, folding his blanket. They put them down again- in unison- and sat on them, gazing towards the east and watching the horizon intently. Neither spoke a word, sitting cross-legged on the blankets. It was an old habit.

“The sky…” Leif started.

“I know,” she finished. They had named themselves, a long, long, long time ago- before you or I was born, before even our grandparents parents- Skye after, what else, the sky, and Leif after the trees they’d seen in the fall, when the leaves were crisp and golden- the color of the sun. It rose now, pinks and oranges gracing the horizon. One and the same, they got up, stashing the blankets under their arms, walking out of the field. It would take someone very observant, or someone very old, to realize they were heading west. Skye turned around ever so often to glance back at the sun.

An old Honda came barreling towards them. Skye and Leif didn’t falter, still walking straight down the middle of the road, curls blowing in the wind. The Honda swerved neatly to the left, narrowly avoiding the pair.

            Skye and Leif glanced back. “Dumb invention,” they said together. The driver of the Honda kept going, not looking back. It was as if nothing had happened, they hadn’t been there at all.

They loped along at a slightly fast pace, looking again and again back at the sun. It was getting higher, and the sounds of morning were beginning to appear. A herd of cows mooed, calling for the farmer out of bed and a rooster crowed to the sun- rather late, Leif noted.  Businesses were opening up shop as the pair reached Main Street. An old woman wearing a flour-crusted apron appeared- opening up the wrought-iron grille that enclosed the shop- and then stopping to stare as Skye and Leif walked by. Leif nudged Skye, and they both glanced up at the sun, and started to jog. The old woman gasped, running back inside, and then a minute later grabbing another woman, where they stood aghast outside their shop. Snippets of dialogue drifted out onto the street:

“That’s them! That’s them!”

“Don’t be silly, Margaret. They’re just two little kids!” Leif scoffed at that one.

“No, no- I’m sure of it! Look at their eyes!” The women trailed off, both staring at the two. Skye and Leif turned ever so slightly away from them.

“And their hair…” The women gasped again as Skye looked back at the sun again and then both of the women turned chalk-white and stumble-ran back into the shop, covering their mouths. From inside the shop, Skye and Leif heard yells, and three men emerged from another shop holding broomsticks and rifles.

“Get the hell out!” he yelled. “We don’t want you in our town!” He cocked the gun along with the two other men. Skye took off down the street, Leif following close behind. They turned off instinctively at a playground and park, slipping down the back fence. Leif glanced back at the sun.

“We’re ahead, it’s okay.” Skye held her head in her hands.

“They’ve never…. Been like that…”

“I know,” Leif said. They unconsciously shifted away from the street, so all that was visible was their brown curls. Leif picked his bare feet off the ground and curled in a ball, his legs to his chest. It was a defensive stance, and he cupped his head between his knees, hiding his face. So no one could see that he was crying. Skye rubbed her eyes ferociously, looking up at the sky to blink back her tears.

“It’s okay, Lief,” she said in a strangled voice. “We’ll just keep following the sun, right? Nothing can stop us.”