this is an excerpt from a story i wrote for my mythology class, and i haven't posted here in a while, so i figured it wouldn't hurt to share it! if it sounds familiar, i've also posted this on ao3 with different characters.
The sun’s harsh rays beat down upon the small town, disrupted only by a warm summer’s breeze. Dirt turned dust from the summer heat spit from behind tires on an old brown road, paving the way to a few lived in homes. A storm was brewing in the east, casting a dark shadow on the horizon, but not on the sweltering heat.
They say that lightning strikes closest to the sky, as if it doesn’t want to stray too far from home. The same could be said about a certain Clay Hominum.
A fluff of honey-coloured hair poked out from behind an old fence, once painted white but now peeling, followed by a pair of curious eyes. They followed the moving vehicle before lips shaped into a frown, and the head disappeared.
Clay sat down on the dying grass with a sigh, folding his legs in front of him. He watched as an ant found comfort in his shadow, taking a momentary break from dragging a particularly large crumb across the yard.
The boy was used to the silence of his town. It being on the outskirts of the city, not many people preferred to live there. It was too close to the home of the town’s stories, and no one wanted to take any chances.
Clay Hominum was a curious but mindful child. What he wouldn’t give to be able to solve all the problems of the universe, and yet he was content where he was.
There was, however, one small thought which dotted across his mind from time to time, irritating, like an inconsistent dripping of water falling from the roof after rain. Hardly noticeable, but once he focused on it, all he could think about.
His town lay next to a river, brighter than any other and lacking the distinct odor found in those closer to the city. An unused trail led the way, identifiably not through dirt, or lack thereof, but by an old sign reading “Lorem spiritus aquae.”
He had been there maybe once or twice, never quite reaching the river. It’s said that if you were close enough, the spirits whom lived in the water would pull you in and drown you.
Clay knew it was to prevent children from venturing too far, to stop them from leaving the town.
He, of course, had never left his backyard.
A roll of thunder sounded in the distance, and a flash of light caught Clay’s eye. With a frown, he stood up, fully intending to return to his room, when another flash appeared, this time significantly closer. He stilled, eyes wide when, yet again, a flash came from the corner of his eye. He counted to ten, but the town was dead silent. No thunder to be heard.
With hesitant movements, he faced away from his home, toward the north side of town. Squinting his eyes, he moved to block out the sun when suddenly he didn’t have to.
He let out a cry of indignance, jumping away from whatever suddenly blocked his sight.
A boy, no older than he, stood before him. Clay blinked.
He was wearing a white button down, collar up, and long, light blue jeans. Both pieces full of rips and holes, yet somehow shining in color. His cheekbones were pronounced, and long lashes framed grey eyes. But, perhaps the most outstanding thing about him, was the feathered white hair which lay upon his head.
The boy took a step closer, effectively breaking the spell.
“Who are you?” Clay frowned.
The boy smiled, shoving his hands into the pockets of his jeans.
“Neró.” He replied easily, as though this situation was not uncommon and was used to the question.
His voice was soothing, low and gravely, as though he had just woken up. The exact opposite of his delicate features and grace with which he stood.
Unsure of himself, Clay took a step forward, curious.
“Where did you come from?”
The boy, Neró, motioned with his hand. Clay turned to see, and became even more confused.
“The north?”
Neró nodded.
“But no one ever comes from the north.”
Neró laughed loudly, as though the statement was the funniest thing he’d heard in years. He opened his mouth, as if to reply, but covered it with a hand instead and began laughing even harder.
Clay was more confused than ever. “Excuse me? I don’t see what’s so funny?” Neró was making him embarrassed; he had never met someone with such poor manners. Clay himself had never been in such a situation, and didn’t know what to do. His instinct said not to trust him, if he really did come from the other side of the river, but part of Clay was curious. If Neró had somehow managed to cross the river and remain unscathed, Clay wanted to know how.
“Can you take me there?”
This brought Neró’s laughter to a halt. The field was quiet once more.
“To the north?” he asked with a frown.
“Wherever you came from.”
Now it was Neró’s turn to be confused, a frown gracing his pretty features, “no one’s ever asked me that before.”
“No one’s ever crossed the river before.”
Neró paused, “crossed the river? You think I crossed the river?”
“Where else could you have come from?”
Neró shrugged, “follow me and find out?”
Clay had never really been asked anything like this, so when faced with the question, he didn’t quite know how to respond. His town was boring, and as much as he’d like to think that he was intelligent, the thought of finally figuring out what was over the river outweighed any instinct he could have had. There was something that drew him to Neró, a gut force telling him to follow the boy and find out what he was talking about.
Clay agreed, and the two began a silent walk north.
Upon reaching the worn down sign, Neró paused, turning around.
“Are you sure you wanna see?”
Clay frowned, “You’ve brought me this far, I might as well.”
Neró’s tone of voice was off putting, but it felt like Clay’s head was filled with mist, preventing him from properly thinking the question through. There shouldn’t have been anything wrong with what they were doing, so why did it feel as though something was off?
They approached the river, and some part of Clay’s subconscious noted the return of color in Neró’s cheeks, the way his hair was no longer a stark white but a golden brown, how he didn’t seem as boney.
The two boys came to a halt at the river bed, Clay searching for whatever Neró had used to cross. He jumped when a hand wrapped itself around his wrist, tugging him forward.
“Neró- what are you doing?”
Owlish blue eyes blinked back at him, a small smile gracing his pretty features.
“I really liked you, Clay. I did. But a man’s gotta eat, you know? And you were so so easy to convince. I’ve been watching you for years. I saw you staring out at my home. I couldn’t resist. You understand, right?”
Clay’s eyes widened, his mind becoming increasingly clouded. He couldn’t focus, couldn’t understand the words being spoken to him, only understood that something was very, very wrong.
“Ah, I forgot, you probably can’t even hear me, can you? It’s a side effect, I’m afraid. It’s supposed to make things easier for you. Should mute the pain a little.”
Neró tugged Clay into the river, wrapping his arms around the confused boy.
“It won’t hurt. I promise.”
With that, Neró leaned over, sinking his sharpened teeth into the boy’s neck, and the two sank into the river.
by ducky! » Sun Aug 28, 2016 3:20 am 
