A Child's Dream

INTRO:

Ri-me was a sixteen-year-old who hated people. He was always unhappy because of how people had hurt him and others. He stayed away from everyone, watching the world with a careful eye. This made him notice small things that others missed. One day, this habit would pull him into a mystery he wanted no part of, a mystery about a missing bullet case.

Beginning:-

Ri-me sat in his chair in class. He was a college student, and this was his last year. He wasn't listening to the teacher, whose voice was just a low hum in the background. He was thinking about how rude and unkind people are. His mind was full of memories of every bad thing he had seen. He watched his classmates, their faces a blur, and felt the same old knot of anger in his stomach. Not only that, but he believed the world had no kindness, and he felt alone in seeing it. This quiet anger was always with him. It was the only thing he could count on.

He whispered to himself. He had only one friend, his childhood friend Kenji, who lived in another city. They didn't see each other, but they did talk at least once a month. Even with those calls, Ri-me still felt the heavy weight of being alone.

He hated people's ideology, he says to himself"how dumb they are, how disrespectful, speaking loud for no reason, accusing people who are innocent, scolding on one mistake?them, and they find fun in it?they don't even care do they?, they hate me because I'm a boy and of how I look?!,"his anger and hatred for humanity itself even if he was one of them, the boy knew of the harsh world his hatred climbing every second for humanity.

The bell rang, a loud, jarring sound that pulled Ri-me from his dark thoughts. He quickly packed his bag and walked out into the busy hall. He kept his head down, watching the other students laugh and talk as if they didn't have a care in the world. He just kept walking, a silent ghost moving through the crowd.

On his way home, with the sun low in the sky, he was halfway to his house when three guys with baseball bats stepped out from an alley and blocked his path.

Ri-me didn't waste a second. He turned and ran. He didn't look back, didn't scream, just ran. The three guys were surprised for a moment, then they roared with laughter and took off after him. The heavy thud of their shoes and the loud scrapes of their bats hitting the pavement followed him like a storm.

"Go on, run!" one of them yelled. "You can't get away!"

Ri-me's lungs burned, but his legs kept going. He knew the streets of his town better than they did. He turned left down a narrow alley, hoping to lose them in the maze of buildings. The laughter and the footsteps grew louder behind him as they closed the distance. The hatred he felt inside gave him strength, a cold fire that pushed him to go faster. He turned another corner and saw an open gate to an old, dark backyard. It was a risk, but it was his only chance. He didn't slow down, diving straight through the gate just as one of the bats hit the wall beside him with a loud crack.

He ran through the open gate, his feet crunching on dry weeds and old broken glass. The yard was a mess of junk and overgrown grass. He saw a dark, open doorway and didn't hesitate, running straight for it. The three guys, yelling curses, were right behind him.

Ri-me dove inside the abandoned building. A cloud of dust rose up around him, and the air turned cold and stale. He could hear their footsteps getting closer, their voices echoing in the empty halls. He didn't stop to think; he just kept running, his eyes getting used to the dark. He found a broken staircase and went up, taking the steps two at a time. The wood groaned under his feet.

Below him, he heard the three guys enter. "He went in here!" one of them shouted. Ri-me quickly ducked into a small, dark room and hid behind an old, broken dresser. He held his breath, listening to their angry voices and heavy footsteps as they began to search the building. The hunt had just begun.

Ri-me ran blindly through the dark halls, his breath ragged. He slammed into a wall, scraping his arm hard against the rough plaster. He didn't slow down, just turned and kept running, his body aching from the bumps and bruises. The angry voices of the three guys echoed closer behind him, their footsteps thudding on the floors. He burst through a doorway, hoping to find a place to hide.

Instead, he stumbled into a large, empty room. Dust filled the air, but in the center of the room, on a broken table, was a small, wooden chest. It was old and covered in rust, but it glowed with a soft, blue light that seemed to come from inside it. The light was weak, but it was the only light in the whole building. Ri-me stopped, his chest heaving, his eyes fixed on the chest. He could still hear the boys calling his name, their voices just a few rooms away.

The angry shouts of the three guys came closer, their heavy footsteps shaking the old floor above and below him. They were searching every room, kicking doors open and yelling his name. Ri-me stayed still, pure hatred in his eyes. He heard them go up the stairs, then back down. He heard them stomp past his room, just on the other side of the wall.

Then, the sounds of their angry voices began to fade. They went down the main staircase and out the front door, yelling for him. "He must have gone back outside!" one of them shouted. Ri-me waited, listening for their voices to grow distant, until the old building was silent again.

The silence was a cold blanket. Ri-me slowly stood up, every muscle in his body stiff. He turned and walked across the dusty room, his eyes on the small chest. The blue light it gave off was soft but clear. It wasn't like a light from a bulb or a phone; it seemed to come from inside the wood itself. He knelt down in front of it and reached out a hand. The air around the chest felt cold, even colder than the rest of the room. He felt a strange pull, a silent hum, as he got closer to the strange object.

Ri-me slowly reached out and put his hand on the chest. The old wood was cold, but the light it gave off felt warm to his fingers. With a soft click, the lid lifted without a sound. He opened it all the way.

Inside, sitting alone on a bed of dark velvet, was a book. The soft blue light that filled the room was coming from the book itself, a light that shone through its pages. The book was made of red-brown leather, old and worn. He carefully picked it up. There was no writing on the front, only a title on its spine that read, "Dreaming Child."

End of Chapter One

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