Nigel stood in the large crowd, his glasses crooked and his breath feeling shallow in the field of held ones. His mother stood beside him, his father refusing to come due to what happened to his brother, her velvety black her only further illuminated he cold emerald green eyes, it was obvious this was simply a chore for her. The representative stepped up, a scrawny grey-brown tabby with an obvious stutter, started listing the names of the contestants. None of them rang a bell, but he couldn’t help but feel a pang of sympathy, before that feeling suddenly came to an end. “N-Nigel Oakley-Johnson.” Time froze, he didn’t know what to do, panic set in. He was just having another anxiety attack right? It wasn’t real, it couldn’t be real. He looked up at his mother for some sort of guidance, some flash of hidden sympathy proving she cared. But she simply grimaced and nudged him forward. An annoyance over a tragedy. The sounds of teasing schoolchildren echoed in his ears, “Wimp-” “Nerd-” “Coward”… “Mommas boy” He was dragged forward, trying to resist while scolding himself for being afraid. He looked back and yelled for his mother but with no call in return. Simply staring. Not with hatred or sorrow or even annoyance, just staring. Multiple sounds of sympathy were heard from the audience, as well as protesting and judging grunts and yells. He caught a glance at Sally, his elementary sweetheart nearly in tears, but he had no choice. As far they all knew He was already dead.
Art and story by me! Enjoy!
