What is Real? A Very Short Attempt at a Thought Provoking Story (Second edit)

What is real?

So thinks the boy; hunched up and cold. He is naked, frail, thin and dirty; with dark hollow eyes through which one could almost see his soul, but no-one is near. He knows not where he is going. He knows not where he has been. He knows only the thousand leering faces that greet him every night. In his confines there is no light, there is no hope. The boy crawls around this dead space, his hands eager to feel, his eyes eager to see, his ears eager to hear something other than his own pathetic cries.

Not so far away another boy is playing. He is clothed with a red baggy t-shirt, denim shorts and trainers, all of which are so clean that they appear to repel all kinds of dirt, and indeed all around him is spotless and perfect. His skin is a perfect white, his eyes a bright shimmering blue, so blue it seems the sky is nought but a reflection of them. He is out in the sunlight, in the wide open space. People are gathered around, and they are happy for him. This boy feels elated, he feels as if all the world is his, he knows no sadness and no pain, there is no night in his world, but endless sunlight and happiness. He too cries out, but with a sound of pure elation.

A third boy walks by, his hands in his pockets. He dwells between those light and dark places, neither here nor there. He hurries along, not heeding the greetings of the happy people, oblivious to the cries of the lonely child. He is trudging into nowhere, but he seems eager to arrive, as if it were possible to reach his infinite destination.

A man stands on the Cliffside. He has been here many times before. Every year of his life he has come to this same spot. The wind whips his hair back behind his head. His is a face worn by many battles, many struggles. And on it is a look of contemplation. He stands at the eternal crossroads, and something makes him laugh; he seems for a second to grow younger, his wrinkles drop away like old discarded rags, his hair becomes dark, and he faces the sea a handsome man, full of life, vigour, hopes and dreams. And then the clouds close in around him, and the shell he cast off covers him once more. He looks to the sky.

Does he turn with the traffic or against it?

He leans forward.

The boy in the dark looks up. There is a new light in his eyes, and suddenly he can see the world and it's beauty, he gazes with wonderment at everything he had not known, but had somehow sought.

The boy in daylight turns; suddenly he can see the darkness and coldness of peoples hearts, and he cowers away from those who surrounded him. Their smiling faces are twisted and distorted, their laughter becoming a horrifying sound that jars the ears and permeates into the mind. The boy begins to cry, he drags himself along, into the darkness ahead.

The third boy continues to walk, oblivious to these two revelations that occur. He marches on, into nothingness.

And then they are no more.