"Matt! Peter!" Janaff called, his voice cutting through the air as he ran excitedly towards his friends. It was late afternoon, and he had arrived later than he'd wished.
"Jan!" Peter shouted back, as Janaff's footsteps slowed and stopped. He sat down on the floor, beside his black-haired friend, Matthew, who was gazing downward gloomily, and then gazed back towards his other friend. Peter took an uncomfortable glance towards Matthew before speaking again, "What took you so long?"
Janaff groaned, shaking a few strands of light brown hair away from his eyes. "Chores!" he grumbled. "Aunt Belinda went overboard today. First I had to take some food to her friend, who lives on the other side of town, and then I had to plant some carrots, get some more water... you wouldn't believe it. It was never-ending."
Peter laughed, and took out a long wooden sword, waving it in the air. "Time for a swordfight!" he declared. "You beat me last time, but this time I'll be the winner!"
"Never!" Janaff laughed, standing up and taking out his own wooden sword. The three boys often played with these, challenging each other to duels. He had been looking forward to this moment today; it had been a while since they last sparred. He waved his sword in the air, like Peter was doing, and then turned to Matthew. "Matt? You coming?"
Matthew shook his head slowly, his black hair hardly moving, his eyes lifeless. "I'll watch."
Janaff frowned and exchanged glances with Peter. Something was wrong. He met Peter's red eyes once more, and then his gaze fell to the wooden sword he was holding in his right hand. He slipped it back under his belt, abandoning the idea of a fight, and knelt down beside his friend, putting his arm around his shoulder. "Matthew... what's wrong?"
"L-look," Peter started to say, his voice trembling. "The sun's going to set soon." He pointed towards the yellow orb in the sky. "I should get home. See you both later, guys." He glanced back towards Janaff and Matthew once, before turning in the other direction and slipping through the narrow streets of town.
Janaff sighed. He knew Peter felt uncomfortable around Matthew today and wanted to leave. He turned back to his other friend, who was still staring solemnly at the rocky ground. "Look, Matt..." he pleaded. "Please tell me what's wrong."
Tears glazed Matthew's grey eyes as he looked into Janaff's amber ones, and when he spoke, it was not in the warm, excited voice that Janaff had often heard, but a foreign, desperate, raspy one which did not seem to belong to him at all. "It's... my... mother," Matthew said slowly, as if he were struggling to get the words out. "The... the..."
Matthew did not need to finish the phrase. Janaff knew what had happened. He put a finger to Matthew's lips. "Don't speak," he whispered, showing his comprehension. It was The Plague. The Plague, which destroys everything. Matthew's mother had caught it, just like his best friend, Derek had, just over a year ago...
Aruptly, Matthew grabbed Janaff's hand. "Jan, she's going to die!" Tears flowed out of his dull eyes. Janaff could not do anything save wrapping his arms around his friend's cold body.
Janaff stood up, and helped Matthew to do the same. He thought of saying something, but changed his mind. It was better that Matthew did not hear it. "Let's go home," he said instead. The two of them walked in the direction of Matthew's house, Janaff's hand never leaving his friend's shoulder.
{ will mention Fallemore in next post }
Last edited by Divine on Wed Jan 04, 2006 5:11 am, edited 1 time in total.
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