300 Days of Writing
Day 53 Missing:
Charlie hadn’t gone to school in weeks. The last his friends saw of him, he was making a bong out of an apple and listening to Smells Like Teen Spirit on a CD player that skipped.
It was normal, in those days, to go missing. There was no grid to hold them in place. It was a simple, kind of peaceful excursion from reality.
He never wanted to be there anyway.
He had gone. Gone fast. Run. Running. Quicker quicker until the cars chasing him couldn’t keep up.
His legs were a blur. Spinning round in their sockets. Unnatural. The cameras tried to replay him in slow-motion but never caught him on camera long enough to make out exactly how he worked.
He was going far. He was never coming back.
He had gone missing. Burnt up like cinder and smoke.
Сайхан Бичээрэй!
H
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