When Cold woke, his small, terrified body and his big, horrified, watching eyes jerked up and open to a small, broken down, one room house. This house had one bed(the one currently housing Cold), one wooden table, two stools made out of paint cans, and a big, old rug. There was nothing else, except for a small, little rocking chair at the farthest corner of the room. The man was sitting on the bed, wet rag in hand, plastic bowl in his lap. he wore a patterned button up shirt, faded pants, and a grey blazer. He was looking at Cold like he had two heads, seven ears, eight noses, four legs, three arms, and one eye. This, of course, offended Cold.
"why are you looking at me like that? What is your name?"
"Len" he said "seems like you had a pretty hard dream"
"yeah" Cold sighed. "my father, he..."
"had a new child and killed you as you burned before him"
Cold was amazed. How did this man, Len, possibly know something like that?
"how...how did you...how could you possibly know something like that?"
Len shrugged. "don't know"
Suddenly, he stood up and walked to the table. He pointed to a bowl.
"well, he said, "eat and get dressed. We have a really big day and then after that, a great journey. So c'mon."
Very quickly, the boy did as he was asked.
He sat at the table, eating fruit. Then he got dressed; quickly slapped on a pair of red chinos and a green sweater that made his little body warm from after having a soaking wet tuxedo hang from his skinny limbs. The sneakers he wore also felt warm and soft. He relished this new comfortable feeling of acceptance and love like he would chicken soup or a warm bon fire. The whole time Cold was "warming" himself up, Len sat in the corner of the room in the
old rocking chair, hacking away at an old piece of wood with an old knife. When Cold tried to tell him that he was ready, he was so startled that he almost fell out of his chair. They set out for something that cold had no idea of.
Where were they going? What were they doing. Len said they had a big day, and then a journey of some sort. But that didn't show anything about what was going to happen.
"Len?" he asked, resorting to boldness.
"hmmm?" Len managed with a cigar hanging out of his squared mouth.
" where are we going? What are we doing?"
"hmm" Len said again as he took out his cigar," well, we are going to someone, an old friend, so she can tell us where we are in the plot, what to do, all that kind of stuff."
The April rain attempted in it's best to mask the warmth and shine of the sun. The sun was determined to show through the dark, angry clouds, making the walk through the dark, crumpled streets of the lower side of the city the tiniest bit cheerful.
With this new peice of lighting, cold asked a question he did not know Len wished he would.
"How old are you, Len"
Len sighed and took out his cigar again. "twenty"
"Ah" Cold officially knew why Len was nervous when talking about the Person. After all, he did say "she".
They finally reached a gigtantic building, ivy infested, ancient, and brick. The doors and windows were barred and only one assessable door was in the back. They entered and slowly went down an old, metal staircase. there was a room at the end, messy and candel lit. There were also different objects both large and small that struck Cold as magic and ritualistic. All of a sudden, a woman poped out of nowhere, and hit Len on the head with a statue.