Snippet #1471598

”Get down fer’um there, you boney pest!” called a old man from down below, his face worn from the years of working in the natural elements. His hair, or what little was left of it, was grey and in a scruffy mess on the back of his head, his temple shiny and bald. It was his hay bail that Flin was standing on, the only thing holding up the right side of his booth ever since it had been vandalized several months back. It was make-shift but it held up fairly well -- of course, with Flin on it there was a potential danger of the stall collapsing, and the old man knew he’d break his back trying to resituate the damn thing if it fell.

Flin made eye-contact with the old scruffy man, a picture out of any medieval fairy-tale if there was one. The clothing in this city was ridiculous, and that was coming from a guy who didn’t consider himself too fashionable to start with. The dream he had, the spiraling black fall of doom, it had to have been imagined, right? Flin had dreams of falling in the past, so it wasn’t particularly new, but then again... none before had ever felt so real. Flin tried to recall the last time he did any drugs-- drugs made sense. It’d been a week or so, with his lack of money he’d managed to stay clean for a few days. Was it possible he found some last night, and taken a train to Renaissance town, wiping out all his memory? Some type of festival? His eyes scanned the area, the view from up top decent enough to see for several stretching miles. The idea that this was some festival was looking less likely seeing as how the sheer size of this land, of similar peasantry style, was too vast, enormous. There was no black pavement, no mile-marker signs... this wasn’t America as he knew it, but some third world community that never modernized.

“Oh hush, old man. Like I was saying,” he cleared his throat, now scanning the fairly large crowd that was forming around the hay stack. The attention sparked his ego a bit, flashing a white smile as if he was the ring master. It reminded him of the crowds he used to drawl in on the beach when he gave his rants on the government and other relative subjects. He attempted to mock their accent as he continued to speak, finding it comical, “Thou... interstate.. big road, cars?” Yet another thing that was missing as he looked around. No sign of modern technology or transportation.. everyone was walking, not that he particularly minded that. He didn’t own a car anyway. Flin was about to continue when he noticed a girl move her way through the crowd, making her way to his haystack. As she began to climb, he protested by using his arms in a shooing motion, “Go find your own haystack, m’lady..” His last word made him chuckle, and it was in these few seconds of letting his guard down that she made he way to the top of the haystack with him, though she looked much less comfortable than he. The old man below shook his fist as his other free hand gripped his forehead, for sure his booth was doomed to fall down, destroying his pressure collection of ceramic tools.

When the woman spoke, her accent was much more familiar, present day, in his time at least. Of course this caught his attention, quieting his ranting as to listen to what she had to say. ”Do you want everyone to know we don’t belong?” she whispered in an unfriendly tone. Flin was put off by it to say the least, what gave her the right to tell him what to do.

She continued in her forward manner, Flin crossing his arms as his eyebrows perked up. “[/i]I’m sorry good folk, but me brother here’s a little touched inna head.[/i]” Oh no she didn’t. He had heard that phrase, well-- worded differently-- many times before... first from his family, then officials, as well as strangers. She was implying that he was crazy... Surely she was right, he had his moments where he didn’t make sense on all standards. But he didn’t feel crazy at the moment, in fact, just the opposite. He was being rational in his mind, trying to figure out where he was and how the hell to get back. And her brother? Who was being crazy here?

She began to tug on his sleeve, motioning for him to come back down to the ground surface. He rolled his eyes, semi-annoyed now that he would lose his crowd, but would give her what she wanted since she in fact could give him more answers than any of the rest staring up at him blankly. She at least knew they didn’t belong here. He made his way down the haystack carefully, and to the joy of the old man, his booth stood in tact. The crowd dispersed quickly, going back to their every day routines as if the whole ordeal never happened. Out of the corner of Flin’s eyes he noticed a man who didn’t move, but continued to stare in his direction. He was dressed in a familiar style of clothes as well, and in all aspects looked like he was in the same situation as Flin and now this woman. Flin directed his motions over towards the man while he continued to walk by the side of this woman. Coughing intentionally, Flin stretched his arms up and then placed them at his sides. “So now, explain. You’re part of some government conspiracy, aren’t you... sis?” he asked, directing his attention towards the woman, a smirk perked on the side of his face. His sunglasses still were intact on the top of his head, reflecting light softly from the heavy sun above. This was turning out to be an exciting day, to say the least.


((he was just in a pair of jeans-- no shirt, but for the sake of keeping your post the same and mine, and since it isn’t a big issue, I’ll go along as say he has a t-shirt on! ^_^ ))