Cyril Medvedík looked up at the light brown musty ceiling above him. His eyelids felt so heavy like someone was pushing down on them. He grabbed the old sewn blanket from the floor that he probably kicked off in the middle of the night and threw it back onto himself messily; only covering half of his rather large body. Cyril pulled his arms up to his face and rubbed his eyelids, moving traces of eye-boogers into and out of his face area. He grabbed a large flake off his eyelash and flicked it onto the floor and let out a loud groan before grabbing onto the couch and pulling himself up into a sitting position. Cyril placed his hand on his head and his elbows on his knees, rubbing his forehead and ears. It had been a very busy night for him in the Tiny Commune of L'adonedý.
L'adonedý (White Bear) is a tiny community of small houses, old trailer houses and a series of log cabins packed beneath the dense pine forests of the Výchbod Island. On the steps of a tall hill that they refer to as a mountain, where the streams are marked by pillars that jolt out of the ground to warn you about falling into them, where the lake downstream is a natural gathering place for fun or to keep up with hygiene, where the bar where drinks are free and seem to never end, L'adonedý is nothing more than heaven on earth for its inhabitants.
He leaned forward and stood up, throwing his arms up in the air, knocking his ceiling and leaning backwards at the same time, together stretching his chest and his arms. He closed then opened one eye after another like someone would flick a lightswitch. Cyril moved his arm behind him and brought it back in front, leaning over in a continued motion to grab a half-used cigarette out of a small ashtray. He fiddled with it in his large hand for a second before sticking it in his mouth and grabbed a blue lighter out his left pocket, pulling it up to his face and lighting the old cigarette, barely having it light but it was lit nonetheless.
Cyril looked around at his old trailer home that was in front of him. There was a hint of a musty smell within it but it was home. The once white cupboards near the back of it had been stained a pale yellow with the wood being broken on some parts. The carpet was a light grey with some spots on it being a lighter color like they had been bleached multiple times. The faucet dripped slowly with one of the handles being slightly on. He clumsily made his way over to the sink and promptly turned it off, taking a look to his right at the some empty cardboard back of the white picture frames; with only two of the five frames still having photos on them. One of them had his dog, Let on it while the other had a past dog on it. Cyril picked up the frame with his right and took his cigarette out with his other hand, putting it out on the window sill before flicking it out the open window. “Boy do I miss you", he thought to himself before putting it back and walking towards the door near the couch. He took one last look at the inside of his trailer home and opened the door to the outside.
L'adonedý (White Bear) is a tiny community of small houses, old trailer houses and a series of log cabins packed beneath the dense pine forests of the Výchbod Island. On the steps of a tall hill that they refer to as a mountain, where the streams are marked by pillars that jolt out of the ground to warn you about falling into them, where the lake downstream is a natural gathering place for fun or to keep up with hygiene, where the bar where drinks are free and seem to never end, L'adonedý is nothing more than heaven on earth for its inhabitants.
He leaned forward and stood up, throwing his arms up in the air, knocking his ceiling and leaning backwards at the same time, together stretching his chest and his arms. He closed then opened one eye after another like someone would flick a lightswitch. Cyril moved his arm behind him and brought it back in front, leaning over in a continued motion to grab a half-used cigarette out of a small ashtray. He fiddled with it in his large hand for a second before sticking it in his mouth and grabbed a blue lighter out his left pocket, pulling it up to his face and lighting the old cigarette, barely having it light but it was lit nonetheless.
Cyril looked around at his old trailer home that was in front of him. There was a hint of a musty smell within it but it was home. The once white cupboards near the back of it had been stained a pale yellow with the wood being broken on some parts. The carpet was a light grey with some spots on it being a lighter color like they had been bleached multiple times. The faucet dripped slowly with one of the handles being slightly on. He clumsily made his way over to the sink and promptly turned it off, taking a look to his right at the some empty cardboard back of the white picture frames; with only two of the five frames still having photos on them. One of them had his dog, Let on it while the other had a past dog on it. Cyril picked up the frame with his right and took his cigarette out with his other hand, putting it out on the window sill before flicking it out the open window. “Boy do I miss you", he thought to himself before putting it back and walking towards the door near the couch. He took one last look at the inside of his trailer home and opened the door to the outside.