História Mythos - Late! Late! For a very important date!

Crispin burst out of his front door and down the front steps. Swiftly securing his toque on his head and grabbing his shopping cart. He bounds out of the pristine yard. Wary of stepping on the lawn.  The boy headed for the end of his street but quickly backtracked to lock his front door. His father would kill him if he was late. However, he would at least bury the boy in a coffin if he locked the door.

His white wisps of hair fluttered in the wind as he bolted around the next two street corners. His heart pounding. Would he make it in time? As Crispin came to the end of Heath St. he faced two paths. He had to think quick. Which one would be faster?

Crispin’s feet pounded against the dirt trail, his cart trailing behind. The branches and leaves shading him as he ran. He ducked every so often to avoid low hanging ones. Some scraping against his pale skin. Leaving faint scratch marks. His father would be pist if any even slightly scared his skin. He didn’t like preventable imperfections. Hell, he didn’t like any kind of imperfections. But, he couldn’t let that stop him, nothing would. He had to make it.

Suddenly, he felt air flying across the top of his head. His toque! What happened to it? He needed it. Badly! Crispin came to a screeching halt. Turning himself around, he saw his toque caught on one of the branches. He didn’t have time for this. Crispin rushed back and started to pull. The boy quickly decided against it. The last thing he wanted was a ripped toque. It was expensive and he would have to tell his father. That would be a death sentence.  He then opted for a seemingly easier solution. Break the branch! Only a little, not enough to kill the tree. If that’s how it works. Crispin honestly didn’t know but, how hard could it be?

He was really losing time now. It. Just. Wouldn’t. BUDGE! Crispin paused for a second, just long enough to fully realize how much his lungs hurt. Was it from running? Most likely.

The boy kept breathing heavily, feeling slightly light headed. All he wanted was to drop to the floor and pass out. But he couldn’t. He had to keep going. He had to. Not only would his father be upset but she would be too. Crispin just had to do it for her. Yeah.

  Mustering up the rest of his energy, which wasn’t a lot, Crispin tried again. Pulling against the branch until it finally gave way. SNAP! The boy fell backwards, landing on his back. He had not only successfully retrieved  his toque unscathed but also smacked his head against the ground. It wasn’t exactly a win-win. But, he could settle. What was he doing? Oh, right.

Crispin immediately got up, secured the hat on his head again, and took off with his cart. Oblivious to the iced broken branch and the trail of frost he left behind.

    As Crispin’s heart beat wildly, he arrived at Mt.Pleasant Rd. Cars wizing past. He was almost there. Just two more blocks. He just had to not blackout, which was becoming harder each second.

Taking off up the street, the boy had a few narrow misses. Crispin had barely made one of the lights and barely missed a car. Only realizing when he heard a loud honk. He muttered ‘Sorry’ under his breath as he turned the final corner. Swiftly crossing the street. Stumbling before leaning against a tree. Trying desperately to catch his breath. Coming so close to throwing up a lung.

When he (Sort of) recovered, his gaze quickly scanned the park. His target was easily found. A little girl with jersey way too big for her, with the numbers ‘21’ plastered on the back. A smile grew on Crispin’s face. She was nearing the other team’s goal. Crispin straightened his back. She maneuvered the ball passed the other team. Kicked the ball straight at the net. And. And. And. It went right over the goalie’s head and into the net!

Crispin’s chest swelled with pride as he thrusted his fist to the sky.

“Aww, Yeah! That’s my little sister!! Wooho!! YEA! You’re AMAZING!!”

The little girl turned towards his voice with excitement in her big, dark eyes. Not even caring about the team group hug, she sprinted over to her brother. Tackling him full force. It wasn’t much but, how much force is a six year old supposed to have? Either way, Crispin gladly accepted the hug. Squeezing her tightly.

“You came! You came! Did you see me score that goal!” She exclaimed. Her tiny voice instantly brightening his day. Crispin happily nodded. “Yay! You saw us win!”

They won? Crispin looked around and saw kids and parents celebrating. She had won the winning point. His little sister won her soccer game. The boy began swinging his sister around, gushing about how proud he was. Her giggles falling from her mouth.

“Now let’s go get your stuff and get outta here! ‘Kay, Diana!”

“A-Oh-KAY!”