Dandelion

The stale must of wet forgotten linen battered Leon’s senses. He pulled his upper lip, eyes nearing close to try and mitigate the effects of the punch. The extra keys rang against the wooden door as he opened it fully.

He entered the room, tilting his neck to keep from colliding with the top of the doorway, still managing to catch a tuft of his waved black hair in a splintering piece of wood. He pulled at his beard as he eyed the sheared strands. Leon sauntered to the steel chair in the corner of the room and took a seat.

His gaze fell to the adjacent corner, three chains stretching from the walls to clasp around the sleeping man's wrists and chest, just enough give to scratch wherever they needed.

The burlap sack covering his head was traced with mold and the dried burgundy stains of previous tenants.

Leon stood and dragged the chair across the cracked stone floor. The clattering of chains filled the room as the prisoner woke with a start.

He shuffled back, tight to his corner, to loose the pull of the chains as his heart settled back to pace. The man finally calmed and sat down on the floor, Leon thumped into his chair sending the prisoners' hands up, crossing over his head.

“Who’s there?” he whined.

“I haven’t decided yet,” Leon said, the scratch in his deep voice distorting his words.

Leon stroked his beard, the released dead skin cells glimmering in the hue of the mustard light gently swinging in the cement room. He watched his subject's shadow shift side to side, a spectre growing and shrinking with the light's distance.

“Please, I can give you—”

“No.”

“I have everyth—”

Leon dropped his hand on the prisoners’ head, a boulder sending shockwaves through his now strained neck.

“I told you to stop,” he said, the words now booming through the rasp clearly as he squeezed his fingers around the skull.

The man grasped at Leon’s arms to pry him away, legs fluttering on the ground, his faintness leaving him too weak to push.

Leon released the man, pulling the sack away as he moved back to his seat. He looked back at the man, his face skinny, pale from the days of dark solitude. Leon watched as the man’s wide trembling eyes turned narrow, his open mouth curled up to a smug toothy smile.

“Didn’t expect to see you, Leon. I thought I earned someone much better.”

“Shaw. You haven’t been down here long enough.” Leon picked at Shaw’s loose cardigan revealing a still formidable gut.

“Where is he?” Leon said, sitting back in his chair.

“You guys were closer than I ever was. You can find him yourself. I could give a damn about your boss's rules.”

Leon pushed his upturned fingers through the back of his beard, poking through the other side laying over his mouth. “I just needed you awake to help make my decision,” he muttered through his fingers.

Leon pulled the hanging string extinguishing the light. The two sat in silence until Leon drifted to sleep.

—

Leon stepped through the door onto the sun soaked road. A single paved path as far as he could see, wide enough for him to lay, barely scraping the edges of grass curling over each end. He sat in the whispering breeze, his hair tickling his neck sending a small shiver throughout his body. He squatted at one edge of the pavement, circling his finger around the perimeter of a budding dandelion, pushing it sideways, forward and back to inspect all around until it broke at the stem.

He stood, looking further down the road to two hazed figures advancing his direction. One of the entities pulled away, the image of them running beginning to clear.

Leon waited until the second copy of himself stood before him, catching his breath.

“You have to let me go. You rely on him too much. It doesn’t always have to be that way,” the copy said, looking back at the third Leon nearing the pair.

“Aren’t you tired of the same old lines, Mouth,” the third said, coming to a stop beside them. He cracked each finger individually before crossing his arms with low uncaring eyes.

“He is always so rough. It takes so much out of you. Head, please. We all see how it hurts you to use him.” Mouth bit the corner of his bottom lip waiting for a response.

“Sometimes I really don’t have a choice.”

Head looked back to the sea of dandelions in varying stages of life. He knelt picking one weed, an open sun shining its yellow through the world, another a ball of white, clinging to its dying core.

“Make your decision. I don’t like visiting your sappy domain,” Fist said, starting the cycle of knuckles again.

Head looked down at his hands, scars still healing from Fists last intervention. His gaze turned up to Mouth, eyes pleading, coated in a layer of tears ready to fall.

A sudden gust of wind surrounded the copies, blowing the seeds of the dandelion, scattering away on their new journeys.

Head dropped the bare plant at his feet, walking to Mouth, placing his hands on both shoulders. He gave him a shy smile, slowly turning him around.

Fist fit his hair into one hand, balling it into a topknot. He turned, meeting Mouth’s gaze with surprisingly sympathetic eyes.

Head threw his arm over Mouth’s shoulder, handing him the vibrant dandelion. “Just one more time.”

Head and Mouth started their journey down the road. Cracking both thumbs, Fist dropped his head back as the dandelions burned away. The grass curled into itself withering into a lifeless sea of yellow and brown. The beaming sun died away into a shallow moon as dangling weeping willows burst through the ground, siphoning the last reminders of warmth.

He looked back at his reflections, still walking away, and stepped through the door.

—

Leon opened his eyes, stretching out his arms and legs with a long dramatic groan. He stood kicking dust at Shaw ensuring he was awake. Leon cracked his fingers, one by one, and got to work.