WHO: Milo & Angelica WHERE: The purple field. WHEN: Day 15; Morning. WHAT: Waking arrival. STATUS: Complete.
The night had gone by slowly. Milo's father Bruno once again left him home alone. Recently he found that Bruno took on drinking rather than going to the office to "fill out paperwork" like he'd been telling him for months. Bruno simply patted his son on the head, Milo glaring up at him with a sour look of disgust, then he left the house to start destroying his liver more-so than it already was. "Asshole," mumbled Milo, throwing his pillow that was seated on his lap behind him before standing and heading towards the kitchen. He was starved and already knew the drill: remove package from fridge, heat up in microwave, eat, toss dishes in sink, not care about the plate breaking, then head back to his room to sleep. A typical night for a typical twelve-year-old without his damn father.
It took him less than three minutes for Milo to doze off, tangled in his sheets, arms shoved underneath his pillow as he lay on his belly--the best way to sleep in his opinion. His dreams had taken over by then, mostly of his mother fading into darkness, where he was in this particular dream he was never certain of. It was cold, dark, and empty. And every dream ended the same: Milo waking up to a cold sweat minutes before his alarm went off for school.
This particular morning was different. Different in a way that when Milo shifted in his sleep, whatever it was he was laying on grew softer. His lids parted, eyes taking a small amount of time to adjust to the light and the setting, and when he finally was able to see where he was, a lump swelled in his throat. His hand grazed the grass, clenching his fist around the blades before tearing them from their roots. Slowly he rose into a sitting position, releasing the grass before it fluttered back to the ground. This area was different, this was certainly not a dream. Was it? No, his dreams were never this.. this vivid. It took Milo a while longer to stand than it did for him to sit up, afraid that if he did that something else out of the ordinary might happen. But to his surprise, nothing did. Still, the area made his heart race, and when he opened his mouth to call out, nothing came. He was afraid that something other than his father would come for him.
*CRACK* His small body whipped around to the unfamiliar sound, quickly trying to untangle himself then from his sheets that seemed to take this 'Twilight Zone' trip with him. He tripped, fell, then stood with as much speed as he could gather before taking off into a set of nearby brush covering what looked like a large odd looking tree. It was here that he decided to stay, his eyes watering with tears. Whatever this place was, it certainly wasn't home.