Punishment

=Punishment=
Erik stood face down to his mother.
	“Mr Gaarder, what have you to say to yourself?” she asked in her heavy Norwegian accent, her arms on her hips with a sour expression.
	“Mum, I haven’t done anything! Mark did it, I swear, he broke the vase,” he said, his eyes glistening as tears formed and his lip quivering uncontrollably in a futile attempt to calm himself.
	“Mark! Get down here right now!”
Mark came scurrying down the stairs. Erik always thought he looked like a rat when he moved. He had a tube of glue in his hand and a panicked expression on. “Mum, it was an acc-” he cut off once he saw Erik. “Erik, you promised not to tell,” his voice sounded of despair with a hint of anger.
	“But you broke it, and I would have gotten in trouble!” He felt poor for telling, and he thought it was the right thing to do.
	Mum cut in, “I wouldn’t have punished Mark, he looks sorry for it – I wouldn’t have punished you either.”
	“Oh,” both boys exclaimed as Mum left for the kitchen.
	“Why’d you tell though?” Mark’s voice now sounded hot with resentment. “We wouldn’t have been punished either way.”
	Erik sounded meek in the face of his older brother, “I thought it’d be the right thing to do….” His voice trailed off regretfully.
	“Still,” he sighed still obviously exasperated. 
Mark suddenly turned around and pushed Erik onto the ground. Erik never hit the solid oak floors of his apartment. He instead went flying through the void and straight into Level 0. Timorously, he picked himself off the clammy, yellow carpet.
Though still confused and rattled, he called out apprehensively, “hello? Can anyone hear me?” Erik’s poor, immature nine-year-old self could barely piece together the insanity that just took place. What happened? Who’s there? But more importantly, where was he? All he had were the clothes on his back, his trainers, and his watch. The time read 4:57 – which startled him all the more – the exchange that led up to this occurred in the morning.
Unfortunately, he never received an answer, only hearing the rasp of the fluorescent lights. Bravely, he began searching his surroundings finding nothing important or memorable – save for the stench. Yet it was all-important to him. For each wall, he gave a name to help himself just to turn back to find it gone and in its place, a long hallway or even a different wall. His search continued – a brave soldier boy picking his way through enemy territory – or that was just what he thought to please himself. 
The hours dragged on, passing as slowly as a slug through a violent storm. Though Erik’s storm was metaphorical, a passing game to entertain himself. His figure gradually became dreary and his eyes forlorn. The abrasive hmm-buzz harkened nothing but suffering and hopelessness. He began to beg his Mum thinking maybe this was some sick punishment. She was waiting around the next corner, right?
	“Mum, please, I’m sorry. I’m so sorry,” he wailed into the emptiness, “Please! Forgive me, God please, forgive me!” Broken, he turned, poised to slam his fists into the wall but he lost his balance.
Falling forward through the wall, his eyes scrapped the tense and shriveled stalks. His hands scrapped and his knees dripped blood from the tumble. He was rolling around not caring anymore, slamming his fists into the frigid, rocky ground. His bawling reached a climax.
	“Mum! Please! Help me! I want to go home!” Needless to say, his calls yielded no avail. The winds joined him in his sorrows, howling to the nothingness. His mind whirling, he was confused and fearful, as any young boy would be. Though in due time, his needless pouting subsided. He began to notice the cold, the wind, and the melancholy. He gave one last sniffle before slowly rising. Sadly, his body protested being forced to move without eating for so long. With a groan, he checked his watch; it read 8:28. Strange, there was light still out, the sky a deep shade of orange with no visible sun.
His face drooped in despair; he was lost, and he knew it. His hopeless expression deepened as he took in his surroundings. The windswept moor continued on forever without breaking monotone was daunting. The thought of being abandoned made Erik shiver, he was alone with no one to help him, and unaccompanied in a foreign place. Why should he continue with no hope of survival? Through all his sufferings, he had failed to notice his stinging cuts and burning hunger. Those were just more reasons to lose what little hope he had.
Suddenly, it jumped out amongst the barely, a structure with a smoke plume rising above, just barely visible in the horizon. It rejuvenated him as he rushed towards the edifice expecting some loving face to appear and comfort him. As he approached, the structure looked less like a house and more like a pile of rubble. Its decrepit form scared Erik. He came upon it and placed his hand on one of the walls, a warm feeling spread across his fingertips. The little heat was calming to a degree yet not enough to alleviate his pain. He began to peer around the corner when he heard a rather loud and gruff voice call out.
	“Get out from behind that wall before I blow your brains out!” The voice called and Erik let out a small squeak. His thoughts racing: 'who was this man, did he own the building, am I going to die or live?' He made up his mind on 'hide' and he slowly shuffled away from the wall and tried to back away and hide in the grass but the man came out before he could properly conceal himself.
	“Wha-,” his voice cut off in consternation and he lowered his gun. “Boy, what are you doing here?”
	“You're not a skin-stealer are you? No… you couldn't be, there aren't enough humans here,” he thought aloud. He holstered his firearm and offered his hand to a tearful Erik. “Sit with me. My name is Benjamin.”
†
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Author: AlwaysWandering
Category:War's System
Category:Tales