Yes, this is a blog

He wears a baseball cap with a Redsox insignia on it though he doesn't like baseball and has no special affinity for Boston. He keeps it tucked in his back pocket in class because most of the teachers don't let him wear it. A few do. He spends most of his time in school sitting in the back corner writing profanities on the desks and cracking abhorrent jokes with his friends. Those closest to him know that he lives only with his father and that his mother either died or abandoned him years prior. But he doesn't talk about that, nor does he talk about his old man who works as an auto-mechanic and always smells like motor oil and comes home every night to drink a six pack and fall asleep on his recliner. Mostly he talks about how much he hates school and its rigidity and the illicit substances he procures. His favorite topic, however, are the girls he sees every day. Each and every one of them do not escape his judgment, silent or otherwise, and to the ones he deems wor...

They stopped by a dwindling stream to get their bearings. Ahead of them was the way out of the canyon. The boy waited around for his companion to lead the way. He looked back to see the opening they came out of but saw only the uniform, stalwart rock. Disturbed, he went to inspect it. It was smoothed over and bald without any evidence of a breach, let alone a home to a sentient artifact within. Cale got up and started upon the exit, not giving a glance or a word of notification. The boy ran his fingers along the grooves in the stone and said nothing as he left it inexplicable and followed Cale uphill. Rocks encumbered the harsh path they drudged. At times it inclined nearly vertically with stone shelves like discordant steps leading out from the canyon walls. Cale made the climb with grace but the boy struggled behind him. He never turned to help even as the child fell to reclaim his breath and dampen the pain in his legs, keeping on until eventually disappearing onto the ch...