Windows •larry au•

This was what he could see from his place sat perched upon his window ledge. His favourite part of the house. As He peered out through the lace, dust catching drapes, He could see the vacant road, the dead grass, the tall gate. Every night, this is what he could see from his window. His special window on the third floor. Never has he seen different. He hoped it would stay that way. But tonight, late Thursday evening, with the pounding rain running down the old window, for the first time ever. He saw a boy. Alone, unconscious and vulnerable. Laid out on the curb of the road. Almost as if he'd had been tossed away, unwanted. From what he could see from his window, the boy was young, quite tall with untidy messy curls stuck to the boys face. From his window he saw hope. He saw innocence. He saw his future.

---------
Enjoy!

1Likes
0Comments
383Views
AA

1. prologue

It was late Thursday evening, the clouds above quilted the sky as heavy rain cascaded downwards. The road at the side the house was vacant, with streams of rain water flowing into the drains. Clusters of trees that lined the road facing the house were positioned like a wall, a wall of privacy, a wall of comfort and a wall of separation from civilisation. Just like he wanted.

The garden wasn't much better. It was deserted showing no signs of life or growth. The only growth was the suffocating ivy that engulfed the house from the side around to the front. The tall untouched gate, stood alone at the front of the garden. Rusted, unused and forgotten. There was no need of use from the gate since he didn't get visitors. Across the cold broken slabs of cobble stone that weaved in and out along the stretch of dead grass the slightly demolished porch took its place at the foot of the house. Railings were hanging off, the wood damp and cracked and the steps uneven and quite possibly unsafe. Just like he wanted.

The door. This was his second favourite part of the house. The Magnolia coloured wooden door frame that stood a few meters high. Worn out and paint chipping on the panels. Placed in the centre, a little high, was the steal door knocker. It was a old skull face. The best thing about the door was that it was intimidating almost scary. Just like he wanted.

This was what he could see from his place sat perched upon his window ledge. His favourite part of the house. As He peered out through the lace, dust catching drapes, He could see the vacant road, the dead grass, the tall gate. Every night, this is what he could see from his window. His special window on the third floor. Never has he seen different. He hoped it would stay that way. But tonight, late Thursday evening, with the pounding rain running down the old window, for the first time ever. He saw a boy. Alone, unconscious and vulnerable. Laid out on the curb of the road. Almost as if he'd had been tossed away, unwanted. From what he could see from his window, the boy was young, quite tall with untidy messy curls stuck to the boys face. From his window he saw hope. He saw innocence. He saw his future.

-----------

A/N pssssst, I have no idea where this is going.

Join MovellasFind out what all the buzz is about. Join now to start sharing your creativity and passion
Loading ...