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(Page 2 of 6) Image Chapter 1 by Wil Moore
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"Who am I? I'm Joey, silly. Who else would I be?" The young boy chuckled and stuffed his head back in the man's legs.
"Joey, of course. Should I have known that?" He shook his head slightly, his eyebrows crunched together. Either he should have known this ‘Joey' but had no memory of him, or the child just couldn't understand the complexities of amnesia or whatever it was the stranger had, in that case the man was silly indeed. No matter what, he needed answers, even if they were from a child. "Okay. You see Joey, I'm having some trouble remembering things ... like how I got here ... and where ‘here' is ... and who I am ... and what I did, or do ..."
Joey looked up again straining his neck back into what looked like an impossible position. He was smiling but his eyes were soft stroking hands that told him not to worry about such things, that somehow everything would be taken care of, everything would be alright.
"You..." Joey began. He pursed his lips overdramatically, "you're Kak!" he expelled with great joy. Finally he released his death grip on the strangers now shaking legs. "You're my best friend! Now come on, you have to meet everyone!"
Joey's hand shot out from his side and clutched the left arm of the still oblivious man. Another Joey grip of death; were they never ending? He was pulled with surprising strength across the lawn and through the front door of a tan, two story, suburban house. Kak had little time for site seeing. Joey the race car dragged him through the door and into a small entry way. The floor was laid with off white tile that did anything but shine and glisten. Not that it wasn't clean, just that the room was dimly lit. To the right of the door sat a small couch. It was boxy and plain, covered with a dark brown material that looked coarse to the touch. Not something he felt he would like to relax on during any occasion. Everything else there went unnoticed as he was yanked up a flight of stairs to the left of the entrance. He remembered the banister quite well since he had to hold on to it to keep from tripping over himself. It was very smooth with a deep brown finish. The parallel columns rising from each step twisted around and around before connecting with the handrail. The whole thing looked out of place, as if it belonged in some English estate and not a two story suburban house. From the top of the stairs, they went left and banked right thereafter through a doorway.
They entered a room where Joey promptly stopped. Kak almost ran him over not realizing their sprint had ended. An ambience of blue quickly overwhelmed him as he caught his breath. A soft blue carpet with a high pile fell out below them. The walls, too, were blue, very light and inoffensive. On the far wall was a window with drawn, thin, white curtains that cast a blurry white glow upon everything in sight. To the left of the window was a small unmade bed, the covers chaotic ocean waves frantically searching for the shore. On the other side of the room, to the right of the window, was a small wooden desk. The light, almost orange-brown in color made it stand out in the otherwise blue room.
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