Barty

The young boy was a splash of vibrant color against the muted tones of the playground. His most striking feature was his hair, an unusual shade of blue that mirrored the bright, almost electric, blue of his eyes. It was a shade that seemed unnatural, yet on him, it felt perfectly right, like he was a character straight out of a fantastical story. He wore simple attire – faded denim shorts with a small tear near the pocket, and a plain white t-shirt. A thin, silver chain hung around his neck, catching the sunlight as he moved. On the ground beside the swing set sat a backpack, appearing almost deflated, as if containing nothing at all.