Highway Song

there was a moment where he questioned his take to the mountain, perhaps it was upon that day where the young boy among the delta had questioned him. (How his eyes, so very focused and intent on speaking to the head that swung among the feverish sea of grass with the mountain range swept behind it) foolish it was, intent on attention giving and for a soft regard now he stood instead of keeping to the riverside incase the child returned. Part of him wanted the kid to, so the curly haired boy could teach the young child to fly fish and he could grow to be quiet. Something about appreciating the silence, just the sound of the water. He would tell him that his home was in the water now, something about feeling the cold spring water burn his legs reminded him of how the snow once did upon his peaked residence. (It was a shitty apartment in New Jersey, 1950s, the pipes rattled)

There is a crease in his cream cheeks, how the lined black lips are taken to a firm line as he spots a hole into the mountain. a crease, cave, ravine, or perhaps even where an troll lived that ate young children's eyes. the thought of teasing the kid, who the freshly adult man couldnt seemed to not think about it. Call it a first friend, or paranoia. He'd say paranoia. His eyes narrowed in a sharp twist as he spotted something other then darkness, a rump to say the least and for a moment he watched before his slow investigating took too. Slowly taking up footsteps, a good 30ft or so behind the woman who seemed to sway as she walked before suddenly it was as if she was within a cartoon and fell into a black hole to nothingness. "Miss?!" It's a sudden paniced tone, and he was no longer worried of his quiet..stalking to be exposed. His body shot forward in his timber folds, toes gripping at the edge in which she seemed to of been eaten by. "Miss? Are you okay?" He asks again, beckoning into a tight darkness as suddenly he begins an attempt at climbing down. Aquatic features stringing the side which had been eroded into a smooth wall from extended rain-fall over years and years of summer storms, and for this did he decide to keep place upon his small podium.