When Lance woke up that particular morning, he knew something was different. There was a funny feeling in the bottom of his stomach, like not eating for a few days or butterflies in your stomach. Lance didn’t know how to pin point the exact feeling but he knew today was going to be different. It was like trying to explain what tastes different about particular water, there’s no way to describe it, only it’s different. That was todays feeling.
The old man shuffled his tired and cracked feet out of the small living area where he fell unconscious after one too many drinks. The headache was killing him this morning.
Walking down the narrow hallway, Lance was surprised to see shadows moving outside his door. He could hear muttering outside out whether they should knock or walk away whether they should trust or could trust.
When there was a knocking at the old man’s door, he guessed it was the muttering person before. This got him thinking he couldn’t remember the last time there was a person to come see him, people usually left him alone in fear of his strangeness. He will admit he was different and he knew it in his bones. The people living in this lifeless town and even most of them called him crazy purely because he believed. Believed in the curse of the king being lifted but many people stop hoping many years ago for the one to save them. Lance however knew different.
“Hello, is any one home?” Isobel was standing in front of the small house with little Harry curled up in her arms, both starting to shiver from the bitter cold. They felt out of place at the old and broken house. The pieces of wood that formed the small veranda around the house was rotted and broken in many places, the door was falling off its hinges and the broken shards of glass were digging into their feet, slowly starting to draw blood. Isobel has never owned a pair of shoes although her mother once made her a shoe type thing but they were worth putting the time and effort into especially for how long they last which is not very.
They waited for the approaching footsteps to reach the door, or what was the remaining of a once beautiful wooden door. The footsteps were heavy and echoed through the empty, dark house and the street with a noise that seemed extremely loud in the silence that once filled. The sky started to enclose them in darkness making the hair on the back of Isobel’s neck stand up. What was she doing standing here? Why was she threatening the life of Harry by standing at the door of a stranger? Her mother just told her to protect Harry.