A Solitary Boy

The morning sun shone down through the fluffy white clouds, sprinkled sparsely throughout the blue sky. A solitary boy happily skipped down a worn path starting from an old house, its planks cracked and weathered, spiderwebs hanging at its corners. A ten year old child, he had a long nose, sharp and perceptive. Dirt flaked off his legs and sweat beaded on his head from climbing the old Oak in his backyard, his dark-brown hair clinging to his forehead and his brilliant green eyes catching every movement and detail. His clothes hung loosely at his sides, around his thin arms and legs. At all times, his eyes were lit with excitement, impish and cunning. The shrubs and plants around him rustled. Birds chirped, singing their own songs. A black backpack hung from one strap on his shoulder, its zipper carelessly open, folders and books peeking out, just as they did every day before, as he walked to school.