Akira Takanawa

I began to run away from the place I once called home. Branches hit my face, but I ignore the pain. I just kept running till I fell over on my back, and panted. "Lota' runnin' you just did der'." I glanced up. It was an old man, with a cane. We walked over to me till his eyes were in sync with my own. His eyes were acid green. My only friend used to say that the eyes are the gate way to some ones soul. "What's yer' name Sonni'?" I thought for a moment, then answered. "Akira, Akira Takanawa." "That's a nice name yer' got der'. Mine's Olde Jones." The man seemed nice, and I sat up. He sat down next to me. "So why you runnin' 'way like that?" Even though he seemed nice, he accent got the best of him, it was annoying. I cursed myself in my mind for being so rude to some one I hardly knew, and better yet, he was being kind to me. "'Ello? You alive in der' Sonni'?" "Oh! So sorry . . . I was thinking about it. I guess I'm just sick of every one acting like they want me dead . . ." Olde Jones looked at me for a long time, then got up and began to walk away. "Oh, uh . . ." "Come with me Sonni', I'll make you some tea."