Chris Nho Short Story

Aaron grew up in the Korean countryside, surrounded not by buildings but by barren fields. The absence of an urbanized culture led Aaron to a very unique outlook on life that many would consider heinous. He simply did not care about his future. There was no hope of escaping his beloved home and no hope of staying in it. This, however, was not meant to be confused with apathy. Aaron was in fact very dedicated to his imagination. He would spend hours dreaming up characters: friends, heroes, enemies, pets. The lack of unique terrain forced Aaron to dream up landscapes that covered the gamut of towering castles to bottomless oceans. Characters would come and go, but there was one person who Aaron became such good friends with that he swore his friend was real.
Andrew was a boy, the same age as Aaron and he looked like a hodgepodge of every person Aaron had ever met. Bits and pieces of his family, friends, even strangers composed Andrew’s features. Aaron and Andrew played games that Aaron thought up of himself. One day they were valiant knights shouting out warcries, the next they were emperors dividing up their country.
It was a hot summer day, Aaron and Andrew were both fondling the grass around them underneath the shade of a tree, when Andrew asked a question.
"Hey Aaron, I've been over to your house plenty of times, but you've never come to mine." Aaron was struck by the question, "Wow, I never even thought of that before, actually, I'm not even sure if you have a house."
"Well whatdya say, let's go!", replied Andrew.
So the two trekked off, Aaron following Andrew like shepard and sheep. Finally they arrived at a pile of rubbish. Aaron was unimpressed.
"All this walking... for this?" He exclaimed as he pointed towards the trash.
Andrew beamed as he said, "Dig in."
He set off to work, first building the walls. Metal sheets, long abandonded and rusted with time, became walls for his room. Leaves became garnish for his hallways. After five long hours of work, the two had managed to create a four walled structure. But that was only what it seemed like to the naive. Once given a closer examination, the walls turned to painted murals, matching the skill of DaVinci and Michaelangelo. The rooms were filled with toys, beverages, and all sorts of tinketries. These four walls were a child's haven; nothing surrounded them but their imagination.