Luke had been sent to bed without his supper. Again. But it didn't matter, for he had a stash of chips and sweets under his bed for just such an occasion. Throwing off his street clothes and donning his very secret wolf-suit, he chuckled at his own genius, raided his stash and clambered bed.
That very night as he lay there, his duvet littered with candy wrappers, a forest grew and grew until the ceiling hung with vines and the walls became the world all around.
Startled awake by a far away noise, Luke sat up, blinking and rubbing his eyes, unable to believe what he was seeing. There was an ocean rolling by where there had been none before and tethered to one side waiting for him was a small wooden boat.
Luke jumped out of bed at the sight and with a cry of delight he dashed to the grassy shore and leapt into the boat. And so he sailed off through night and day and in and out of weeks and almost over a year to a dark and unknown shore.
The bow of the small boat nudged up against a dark and sandy beach and sitting upright, Luke peered up at the dark canopy of trees backlit by a heavy yellow moon. A jolt of fear shot down his spine and he clutched at the edge of the boat. Casting a glance over his shoulder toward the way he'd sailed, Luke contemplated turning around and heading back home.
But, he was a brave boy and he had already come this far. There was no turning back.
So Luke, gathered his courage and shoving the boat higher onto the sand, he fearlessly strode ashore. He pushed through the heavy undergrowth and cut through the foliage until he fell out into a grassy clearing. Beyond the edge of the clearing was an outcropping of rocks next to which was a small camp fire, leather easy chair, book shelves overflowing with books and...
"Who are you?!" roared a voice.
Luke jumped and squeaked a very undignified squeak. The newcomer was tall and dark and looked very angry. He bared his teeth.
Luke braced himself and stared long up into those whiskey brown eyes. He tried the only trick he knew; heat from his fingertips to try and tame the beast, but to no avail.
"That magic trick was um.. supposed to work," he muttered.
The beast frowned and lifted a hand. A flick of his long fingers sent Luke sailing through the air where he lingered for a moment, only to land hard in the dirt.
"That was a magic trick," chuckled the beast as he advanced upon Luke.
Luke scrambled to his feet. Shooting his hands high into the air, he rose up on tiptoe and screamed, "I'll eat you up!"
The beast paused, considered him a moment and then grinned.
"I'd like to see that," said the beast.
The beast lifted him with unseen fingers and set him on his feet. Dusting himself off, Luke gazed at the beast, mesmerized by his magic trick and stepping a little closer, he whispered, "will you teach me that?"
The beast shook his head.
"Then will you at least tell me where I am?"
Again, a shake of the head, this time accompanied by a shrug of his shoulders.
"Your name?"
There was a brief pause.
"Sylar."
Luke ventured to smile. He edged a bit closer and Sylar stepped backwards. As a shaft of yellowy moonlight cut across Sylar's face, Luke took in a breath. The beast was not a beast at all. In fact, Sylar was beautiful. Looking away, Luke squashed down the sudden rise of arousal and fumbled for something to say other than "oh God, fuck me!" As if he'd read Luke's mind, (which he had, of course) Sylar chuckled low in his throat and turned to walk back towards the camp fire.
"C'mon," he beckoned. "Let the wild rumpus start."
-end
DAY EIGHT: NO JUNK FOOD
Mood:
Giggly
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