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Description
I could see bubbles of light around the street lamps but every step in between was so dark I would forget that my feet were treading upon a solid paved road and that I wasn't floating through pitch black air.
It was already late enough in the year that any type of creature that would be around at this time of night was nowhere to be seen or heard and it was that type of night where I doubt there being even one other soul in this plain of existence with me, due to the overwhelming deadness of the atmosphere around me. I moved forwards anyways because I knew for certain, at least one other soul was still in the same world as me. He's impacted me far too much for me to doubt the undebatable reality of his very existence ever again. I couldn't. I've had him not be "real" for far too long.
After a while of walking in a beeline, the street reached its end and started its transition into the expanse of light gray concrete and industrial ditches and patches of dying grass amongst red dirt where the man made structures weren't. My brain pulled upon itself for me to hesitate before entering this place of metaphorical no return, but my body didn't acknowledge or act on it in even the slightest and my legs didn't slow their rhythmic steps at all. If anything, they sped up. My brows furrowed and my fists clenched as I marched forward.
The scenery quickly became nothing but an open field of orangey sand and shrubs. I was lucky this place was so barren otherwise I worried I might never find what I was looking for in this dark night. Although, since moving far enough away from any sign of artificial lights, it somehow became easier to see within nothing but the moonlight illuminating my way. Besides, in all honesty, I could never forget where he lived.
Time stretched as I traveled a walk that realistically only lasted around fifteen minutes but felt like both long hours and mere seconds at the same time, passing familiar landmark after familiar landmark, each time thinking I was closer than I really was. My heart flipped when I got the first glance of his--to be blunt--shack, and then started beating steadier, though so hard I felt my eyes blur slightly every time it thumped thickly in my chest. I wasn't scared, maybe nervous. Maybe worried I shouldn't be here at this time, that he'd get annoyed at me. Or he'd ignore me and I'd get embarrassed. Or maybe I was just excited to see him.
As I reached the entrance of the small wooden porch, this time my body's and mind's reactions were reversed from before. I told myself I shouldn't hesitate now, that I was already here, but my body halted as if it had no intention to ever move again. After standing still for a bit and desperately trying to make my eyes focus on this beaten and dusty gray wooden house, a shape caught my attention in the porch chair.
My head whipped towards the direction of the chair but it was so dark I could only barely make out the outline of it against the moonlit desert behind it, so my eyes pulled my head away just as fast as they made it look. I tried to steady my breathing and reassure myself nothing was there, when the shadow in the chair moved.
Stood up, to be precise.

---

gags
I really am writing the story Xerxes is in I promise.
Omg I'm so bad with detailing I honestly got so sick of drawing shrubs that I literally became hysterical and couldn't stop laughing every time I tried to draw another and had to take a break.

Description
I could see bubbles of light around the street lamps but every step in between was so dark I would forget that my feet were treading upon a solid paved road and that I wasn't floating through pitch black air.
It was already late enough in the year that any type of creature that would be around at this time of night was nowhere to be seen or heard and it was that type of night where I doubt there being even one other soul in this plain of existence with me, due to the overwhelming deadness of the atmosphere around me. I moved forwards anyways because I knew for certain, at least one other soul was still in the same world as me. He's impacted me far too much for me to doubt the undebatable reality of his very existence ever again. I couldn't. I've had him not be "real" for far too long.
After a while of walking in a beeline, the street reached its end and started its transition into the expanse of light gray concrete and industrial ditches and patches of dying grass amongst red dirt where the man made structures weren't. My brain pulled upon itself for me to hesitate before entering this place of metaphorical no return, but my body didn't acknowledge or act on it in even the slightest and my legs didn't slow their rhythmic steps at all. If anything, they sped up. My brows furrowed and my fists clenched as I marched forward.
The scenery quickly became nothing but an open field of orangey sand and shrubs. I was lucky this place was so barren otherwise I worried I might never find what I was looking for in this dark night. Although, since moving far enough away from any sign of artificial lights, it somehow became easier to see within nothing but the moonlight illuminating my way. Besides, in all honesty, I could never forget where he lived.
Time stretched as I traveled a walk that realistically only lasted around fifteen minutes but felt like both long hours and mere seconds at the same time, passing familiar landmark after familiar landmark, each time thinking I was closer than I really was. My heart flipped when I got the first glance of his--to be blunt--shack, and then started beating steadier, though so hard I felt my eyes blur slightly every time it thumped thickly in my chest. I wasn't scared, maybe nervous. Maybe worried I shouldn't be here at this time, that he'd get annoyed at me. Or he'd ignore me and I'd get embarrassed. Or maybe I was just excited to see him.
As I reached the entrance of the small wooden porch, this time my body's and mind's reactions were reversed from before. I told myself I shouldn't hesitate now, that I was already here, but my body halted as if it had no intention to ever move again. After standing still for a bit and desperately trying to make my eyes focus on this beaten and dusty gray wooden house, a shape caught my attention in the porch chair.
My head whipped towards the direction of the chair but it was so dark I could only barely make out the outline of it against the moonlit desert behind it, so my eyes pulled my head away just as fast as they made it look. I tried to steady my breathing and reassure myself nothing was there, when the shadow in the chair moved.
Stood up, to be precise.

---

gags
I really am writing the story Xerxes is in I promise.
Omg I'm so bad with detailing I honestly got so sick of drawing shrubs that I literally became hysterical and couldn't stop laughing every time I tried to draw another and had to take a break.