It had been a hard day. I was so tired, I felt like limping around like a zombie and yelling, "brains!"

Honestly, I think I'd be pretty convincing. I look like the end of the world has passed, I went to my grave and came back. My blond hair is so burnt, dirty, and eaten, that it looks like a brown rat's nest. I haven't gotten a haircut in months, which doesn't help. With it being so knotty, it keep it short. But now that it's longer, (almost past my eyebrows) I can't keep it tame not matter what I do.

And my clothes... don't get me started. My plaid shirt lost a few buttons, so I look like a pirate. My jeans are torn in who knows how many places. My sneakers were ratty before the fire. And my whole outfit's charred up.

I've never been much for clothes, but it's better to be clean than look like a hobo. Seriously, don't try it. In fact, just stay as clean as you can. It helps.

But anyway, I really needed new clothes, food, supplies, etcetera. All I had was three fives left, a water bottle with boiled creek water, a pocket knife, a small, ratty tent tarp, some chips and allot of trash in my backpack. So I went to Wallie world!

After cleaning up in the bathroom, and attempting to tame my hair, I grabbed a cart and went hunting for the cheapest stuff.

The shoppers glared at me like I was a hobo, which I pretty much was. But I tried to ignore them and continue shopping.

I found some bread, a cheap metallic water container, granola bars, duct tape, a survival blanket, and some rope. Before going to checkout, I checked my money to see if I had enough about three times. I did, but just barely.

The line was short. It was pretty early in the morning. The lady at the checkout kept talking to the girl in front of me. I considered going to another cashier, but it was my turn.

The lady had leathery skin, and bright red nails filed into claws. Her huge, orange teeth flashed whenever she talked, which was often.

"Oh, hehehe!" She cackled like a witch. "Well, how are you little boy?"

I didn't comment on the little boy comment. "Good."

"Well, you know how I am,"

"Well, not really..." I said quietly.

"Good!" She said loudly, cackling.

"I mean, everyone always says 'good' even when they aren't! Ehehheheh!!" She laughed. Her breath smelled like cheetoh puffs and expired onions.

She started scanning my stuff, and as the numbers raised on the screen I curled my toes. I was pretty sure I had enough, but I wasn't good at math.

I counted my money again.

"Ahh, you know us old people. Always crazy. What's your name, by the way?"
She asked.

"Why would you need to know?" My tone carried annoyance in it.

"I just like to remember all my customers..." She said in a sort of creepy voice. The same way a monster would say I love the taste of flesh.

I sighed. "Tristan."

As she scanned the duct tape, she stroked her chin in thought. "Intresting..." I heard her mumble.

"Oh, I mean, wonderful name! It must be amazing to have the same name as that actor... oh, what was his last name?" She said, thinking.

"McLean. Tristan McLean." I hadn't seen any of his movies, but girls talked about him like he was Johnny Depp or Justin Bieber.

Funny, I have a similar name to his. My last name is Chean; or at least I think it is. I've been up for adoption since I was three, and I can't remember my parents. Mr. June, the man running the adoption home, said they died in a car crash. But that's how everyone dies.

"Well, we hope you visit Walmart again soon. Cash, please?" She said eerily, stretching her wrinkled hand out.

I handed her all of my money, now sure that I had enough.

She counted the money, then put it in the cashier. As she handed a quarter back to me, her claws grazed my hand.

I put it in my pocket, then grabbed the bag. I secretly grabbed two other empty ones, and put them in the bag.

The old lady waved at me as I speed walked out of the store as fast I could.

Well, I was out of money. If I didn't get anymore soon, I would have to eat berries and squirrel meat.

I walked down the city streets a little, unpacking the grocery bag. I found another quarter on the street, so I picked it up quickly and slid it in my pocket.

I passed a burger shop, and my stomach growled. The smell of cheese and fried meat silently whispered for me to come in.

I had to fight the urge. I hadn't had any real food in months.

But, as usual, I sighed and continued walking.

I eventually got to a spot in town where the forest met it. The buildings were small, and the forest wasn't really dense. I had the feeling it would get denser, though.

I followed the sound of a river. I was running low on water. Before I lost my thermal, I would boil my water to make it safe to drink. It wasn't great, but at least I stayed alive. I could boil it now with the new water can I got, hopefully.

I bet you're thinking, why not just get some water at a drinking fountain? Well, first of all, most store owners won't let me in the store at all. And I don't like the taste of the water around here. I think the boiled water is much better.

I found the river, but it was smaller than I had hoped. Dirt and leaves ran through it, and it was about three feet across.

But, it was still water. I hung my bag on the branch of a tree, then started clearing the area from debris and twigs with my feet.

There wasn't much, since it was spring, but the ground was damp and cool.

When I was satisfied, I dug a shallow pit for a fire and found some fire wood.

I arranged them in no particular way as the sun started to touch the mountain's edge.

I added some dead grass before standing up and checking my surroundings. I thought I heard something running, a while off, but it was probably my imagination.

I grabbed my pocket knife from the bag, watching to make sure no one was looking. I flipped it open, then waited a second. I felt an urge to move on a particular spot of grass, and angle my knife at an angle.

The last of the sun's light caught the small blade, and I willed the little spot of light to go on the tinder.

I waited a minute, waiting for fire to appear. The spot started crackling a little, and smoke rose. Yes!

I quickly dropped the knife and kneeled down by the fire. I cupped my hand around it, then started blowing a little. Fire appeared, spreading slowly.
I got a smaller stick and stuck it into the fire, then lit the other side.

As the fire grew, I grabbed the knife and put it back in my bag. While in there, I grabbed my new water can and filled it in the stream. The water was cool, and made me tempted to drink it. I didn't want to boil it!

But, I sort of had to unless I wanted to get infection.

I put it in the fire, hoping it wouldn't melt. I spent a good three dollars on that thing.

I watched for a few minutes, warming my hands. It seemed fine, so I started to gather wood and set up camp.

When I was done, I was rather proud of myself. I had made a make-shift tent out of the tarp and a tree branch, with the survival blanket in it. A neat pile of fire wood sat at the base of the tree, and the fire was a few feet from the entrance of the tent.

The sun had gone down, and dusk had passed. Darkness shrouded the area, leaving the only light coming from the fire. It cast an eery, but comforting, look on everything.

Before going to bed, I climbed up the tree and hung my bag on a high branch, so animals wouldn't get to it. I sat on a strong branch, and pulled out the chips and my knife. You never knew when you might need it!

I jumped back down, and shoved the knife in my pocket. As I crawled in the tent, I kicked my sneakers off and hid them under a root. Animals liked to eat those, too.

I ate the chips hungrily, not bothering to savor the flavor. I was licking my fingers in no time, and the bag was empty. "They put too much air in it anyways," I said to myself as I threw the bag in the fire. It curled up sadly in the flames.

I Stretched my arms out, then crawled under the blanket, my feet towards the fire to keep them warm. As I started too feel the soreness of my muscles, and my mind starting to drift, I saw a faint light off deeper in the woods.

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I hear the screaming of boys, and the loud roar of the fire. I feel the overwhelming heat of the flames as I burst through the building, carrying an emergency bag in my arms. Once outside, I run to the group of boys across the street while slinging the bag on my shoulders. The younger boys are crying, while the older ones are pointing and talking in rushed tones.

I turn around when I get about twenty feet away, observing what happened to the orphanage. Flames had not yet consumed the building, but I was lucky to get out.

Then I saw snake like creatures crawl from the building, hissing and spitting. They start coming towards me, and I remember them.

It sounds crazy, but they weren't snakes. They were Basilisks. I saw similar ones in a text book I found in school; the picture depicted a Greek red and black pot with snakes that had the exact same markings.

I didn't wait for a better look at them. I knew what they were capable of; so I ran as fast as I could, down the street away from the boys.

The basilisks were wicked fast. As I ran, bits of fiery ashes and charred fabric fell from my clothes.

I could see a fire truck down the road, so I pulled towards the sidewalk. As it blared past me, alarms screaming, My right leg slammed into a peice of old, black, melting, hard snow. My legs fell out from under me, and I flew a few feet before landing into the road on my face.

Pain seared at me as blood started to accumulate on my, scraped cheeks. The skin on the underside of my arms were ripped off, my fingers and palms bleeding, and my clothes ripped up.

I howled for a moment in pain, forgetting the basilisks.

The hissing brought me back. I rolled off my stomach, groaning as I did. The snakes were approaching steadily. I couldn't see them well with the dirty snow, tears in my eyes, and the darkness, but instinct hit me like a hammer. I pulled my pocket knife from my pants pocket, then flipped it open as the first basilisk jumped at me with bared fangs.