The Two Hundredth and Seventy Seventh Life-Part Two
As I walked out, full of soup, I saw the mosquitos instantly. My family always wondered how I could see such tiny creatures. I just told them to look. I ignored the mosquitos, and most of them ignored me. The ones that tried to bite me died instantly as I hit them. I walked along the identical houses silently. The curved roofs reminded me of her closed eyes, lined with white and ever-so perfect, gently tilted head that was yellow like the roof tiles. Basil. The word came to my head again, and yet again, I shoved it out of my mind. I was not going to think about Basil. I was smart. I needed to focus. Though my thoughts were barbed against her for some odd reason or another, I found myself turning into her gravel driveway as though the universe itself was pulling us together.
I knocked on the door gently, not wanting to chip the perfect white paint. Her father was a painter, I remembered. Her mother did something else. Ah, right. A schoolteacher. My teacher. I smiled happily at the memories that she had put in my mind this past school years. She made school as fun as it could be, much like her daughter. Right, I was here for Basil, who answered the door almost instantly.
Gorgeous, long, golden hair lay flowing over her shoulders and her dark, glass-covered eyes scoped over me slowly, creasing with some amount of joy. She grabbed my calloused hand and tugged me in, running up her shag-carpeted spiral staircase to her room in the attic. I had always been skeptical about the fact that she lived in the attic, but it wasn’t as dusty as the old, spider filled one that belonged to my family. She sat down on her windowsill, dragging me down with her as we stared out over the setting sun.
“Hello.” Basil said softly, her small voice too high for her age. I didn’t care. It didn’t matter as long as she was here. “It’s seven forty seven, before you can ask.”
For some reason, it was some sort of a tradition for me to ask what time it was. I documented it all away in the corners of my mind. It was ten thirty two when we met for the first time, six years ago. Almost half of my life. And my birth is when the pain started.
Excruciating, actually, skull splitting. I was used to it though, the headaches and migraines that came with my life. It hurt, though, and I sunk to my knees, curling up and whispering things so that it would stop. Basil, sweet generous Basil, who would sacrifice anything for me. She gently touched my shoulder with her soft, pale fingers, bringing my head up to look at her with my eyes. One of them much different than the other, showing time like a clock face. A genetic defect, the doctors said. We didn’t think so. How could one of my eyes be such an innocent blue, while the other yellow, with one minuscule black line, going around like a clock, one hour for every year. I was scared of what was to come when I ran out of time.
She reached into her apron pocket, taking a vial of a transparent, gel-like substance into her hands. I knew it well. She leaned down and barely dabbed her first finger into the clear oddity, then moved it to spread across my forehead, fingers barely brushing my pale skin, pearl against pearl. I instantly retrieved some relief from the cool feeling. I grinned up at her happily, taking her hands gently after she pulled the digits from my warm forehead.
“Julian, what’re you-“
I placed a long finger over her lips, bending down and grabbing my raggedy backpack, the logo half fallen off as I unzipped it slowly, grabbing my precious book, filled with all sorts of my ramblings. “I’m just thinking . Can you write something in my book, please? I’m trying to finish it by tomorrow, and I still have thirty pages.” Basil understood what I meant though, that I finished a journal every year.
This was my eleventh journal. I learned to read and write in the first year of my life, before anything else. It was more important than speech, seeing as I didn’t begin to talk until I was five, and everyone still thought I had some sort of speech defect. I had no such defect, I just chose to speak my sentences… At the same tone, instead of a gentle decline like most people did. They ran out of time, when I never would. I had never voiced these thoughts to my parents, or anyone at all but Basil. Enough about that.
I smiled at her radiantly as she took the worn down book, flipping through the object-laden pages happily. Most of the pictures included her, laughing goofily at the camera as she was frozen in time. I shuddered at the thought.
“It must be awful to be a photograph.” I said out loud, not really meaning to.
“What makes you think that, Julian?” It bothered me that Basil finishes her sentences. It wasn’t a good feeling, but I deal with it for her sake.
“I mean, frozen in time.” I pause for a millisecond. “I never want to be frozen in time, I mean it keeps moving forward and you don’t have any time to stop”
She stared at me curiously, almost the only look other than her doe eyes that she gave me nowadays. I returned her feelings for me, in a strictly platonic way. I didn’t quite understand what the big deal was about ‘love’, and was fairly sure that she didn’t have any for me.
“What”
“Nothing, Julian. Don’t worry about it.” She finally found a blank page, and picked up a pen, though not before eyeing the amount of blank pages that I required her to finish tonight.
“Can I stay here?” I asked hopefully, eyeing her face to see her reaction. She turned red for some reason or another, and I felt slightly bad. Had I caused the rush in blood? Had I hurt her? “Are you okay?”
Basil instantly nodded, grinning over at me a bit too widely. I didn’t say anything in fear of offending her. “Yes to both. I would love to have you stay over tonight, and we can go do something fun for your birthday tomorrow, okay?” I nodded, and with that one simple gesture, Basil was up to her feet, yellow dress that matched the house swishing around her knees tantalizingly. I stared at the very hem, marveling at the color that it showed. Absolutely beautiful. She skipped off to go see if she could find some sheets as I went to get my things.
I knocked on the door gently, not wanting to chip the perfect white paint. Her father was a painter, I remembered. Her mother did something else. Ah, right. A schoolteacher. My teacher. I smiled happily at the memories that she had put in my mind this past school years. She made school as fun as it could be, much like her daughter. Right, I was here for Basil, who answered the door almost instantly.
Gorgeous, long, golden hair lay flowing over her shoulders and her dark, glass-covered eyes scoped over me slowly, creasing with some amount of joy. She grabbed my calloused hand and tugged me in, running up her shag-carpeted spiral staircase to her room in the attic. I had always been skeptical about the fact that she lived in the attic, but it wasn’t as dusty as the old, spider filled one that belonged to my family. She sat down on her windowsill, dragging me down with her as we stared out over the setting sun.
“Hello.” Basil said softly, her small voice too high for her age. I didn’t care. It didn’t matter as long as she was here. “It’s seven forty seven, before you can ask.”
For some reason, it was some sort of a tradition for me to ask what time it was. I documented it all away in the corners of my mind. It was ten thirty two when we met for the first time, six years ago. Almost half of my life. And my birth is when the pain started.
Excruciating, actually, skull splitting. I was used to it though, the headaches and migraines that came with my life. It hurt, though, and I sunk to my knees, curling up and whispering things so that it would stop. Basil, sweet generous Basil, who would sacrifice anything for me. She gently touched my shoulder with her soft, pale fingers, bringing my head up to look at her with my eyes. One of them much different than the other, showing time like a clock face. A genetic defect, the doctors said. We didn’t think so. How could one of my eyes be such an innocent blue, while the other yellow, with one minuscule black line, going around like a clock, one hour for every year. I was scared of what was to come when I ran out of time.
She reached into her apron pocket, taking a vial of a transparent, gel-like substance into her hands. I knew it well. She leaned down and barely dabbed her first finger into the clear oddity, then moved it to spread across my forehead, fingers barely brushing my pale skin, pearl against pearl. I instantly retrieved some relief from the cool feeling. I grinned up at her happily, taking her hands gently after she pulled the digits from my warm forehead.
“Julian, what’re you-“
I placed a long finger over her lips, bending down and grabbing my raggedy backpack, the logo half fallen off as I unzipped it slowly, grabbing my precious book, filled with all sorts of my ramblings. “I’m just thinking . Can you write something in my book, please? I’m trying to finish it by tomorrow, and I still have thirty pages.” Basil understood what I meant though, that I finished a journal every year.
This was my eleventh journal. I learned to read and write in the first year of my life, before anything else. It was more important than speech, seeing as I didn’t begin to talk until I was five, and everyone still thought I had some sort of speech defect. I had no such defect, I just chose to speak my sentences… At the same tone, instead of a gentle decline like most people did. They ran out of time, when I never would. I had never voiced these thoughts to my parents, or anyone at all but Basil. Enough about that.
I smiled at her radiantly as she took the worn down book, flipping through the object-laden pages happily. Most of the pictures included her, laughing goofily at the camera as she was frozen in time. I shuddered at the thought.
“It must be awful to be a photograph.” I said out loud, not really meaning to.
“What makes you think that, Julian?” It bothered me that Basil finishes her sentences. It wasn’t a good feeling, but I deal with it for her sake.
“I mean, frozen in time.” I pause for a millisecond. “I never want to be frozen in time, I mean it keeps moving forward and you don’t have any time to stop”
She stared at me curiously, almost the only look other than her doe eyes that she gave me nowadays. I returned her feelings for me, in a strictly platonic way. I didn’t quite understand what the big deal was about ‘love’, and was fairly sure that she didn’t have any for me.
“What”
“Nothing, Julian. Don’t worry about it.” She finally found a blank page, and picked up a pen, though not before eyeing the amount of blank pages that I required her to finish tonight.
“Can I stay here?” I asked hopefully, eyeing her face to see her reaction. She turned red for some reason or another, and I felt slightly bad. Had I caused the rush in blood? Had I hurt her? “Are you okay?”
Basil instantly nodded, grinning over at me a bit too widely. I didn’t say anything in fear of offending her. “Yes to both. I would love to have you stay over tonight, and we can go do something fun for your birthday tomorrow, okay?” I nodded, and with that one simple gesture, Basil was up to her feet, yellow dress that matched the house swishing around her knees tantalizingly. I stared at the very hem, marveling at the color that it showed. Absolutely beautiful. She skipped off to go see if she could find some sheets as I went to get my things.