People didn’t speak to Dave Strider. Not anymore. They say he lost it, after his brother passed away. He was murdered on his way back from a quick run to the store. Thats when Dave Strider, stopped talking. He stopped responding on pester chum, never answered his door, nothing. Many thought he was dead for the longest time. But, if you stick around long enough, you can see his shadow from the blinds. When nights are clear, you can see him on the roof with his katana. Just sitting there staring upwards. His lips moving, but no sounds coming out. If you stayed longer after that, you could hear his cries. You could hear him begging for his brother to come home. You had only seen Dave Strider leave his apartment once. In a suit and tie, orange flowers in hand. Seeing as you were entirely curious, you followed him. You followed him to a lonely grave on a hill, and watched him talk and laugh with the cold lifeless stone stuck into the ground. And you watched him mumble a last few words before leaving. You yourself remember hearing him say, “I’m going to find you.” You dont see his silhouette through the blinds anymore. No light at all. You dont hear his lonely cries from the roof. And when you worry, and get the courage to knock on his door, you hear nothing. Not even the silent, “leave me alone” he would always give. One night, you stayed up far past your bedtime to see if maybe he would come out to the roof. You smile at what you see. He doesnt look in pain. He looks happy when you next see him. Though you want to cry out for him, you dont. You know he’s okay. You settle down under your blankets and wipe your eyes, closing them. He’s okay. People didn’t speak to Dave Strider. Not anymore. They say he lost it, after his brother passed away. He was murdered on his way back from a quick run to the store. Thats when Dave Strider, stopped talking. He stopped responding on pester chum, never answered his door, nothing. Many thought he was dead for the longest time. But, if you stick around long enough, You can see two blurry white figures laughing, dancing, strifing, and joking, sitting next to eachother on the roof. Katana’s in hand. They were not dead. Not to you.
Posted on: Sat, 01 Feb 2014 02:39:14 +0000
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