Prologue ★
Prologue.
August felt as if he should remember the day April moved to Herbishire. He remembered it was September and oddly wet. It seemed to be raining nonstop for hours straight. August - a mere five year old - was more observant than his parents. He seemed to pick up on things that most people never would.
But his parents kept him in the darkness. August was fine with it, almost enjoyed his complete solace. August was almost trapped in his house. Not by locks or doors, but by his own fear of the unknown. He had never gone out and he wasn’t sure why he ever would.
But that day, that day he felt as if he should leave. His parents were both at work. Most parents would never dream of leaving their five year old son alone, but August knew from an even younger age that his parents couldn’t care less about him. Sometimes he was sure that they would wish him dead.
The sun felt as if it was going to burn his skin as he stepped beneath it. He was very pale and his skin was extremely sensitive. Very little of it was showing, but it was still enough to hurt him, burn him so easily. He almost ran back into the house, back into the comfort of the darkness.
But he noticed a row of breadcrumbs that were making a pathway past his house and down the road. He followed them, looking at nothing but the small pieces of bread as he walked. They seemed to change size almost as if it was a pattern. It amused the small August.
He eventually ran into a small girl. She was so much taller than August, but she was still short. She had choppy short hair and a bitter look on her face. She was biting her lip so hard that August was sure it was going to start bleeding. He wasn’t sure how she could stand the pain.
Part of him wanted to reach up and touch her lips, to pry her teeth off her helpless bottom lip, but he stood his ground. One thing he learned from his parents was that touching was neither right nor acceptable.
"Why are you dropping all this bread?" he asked. His voice sounded strange in his ears. He almost never spoke. His parents didn’t talk much and as such, he didn’t talk much either. He was surprised at how much he liked the sound of his own voice. He was tempted to say more, just he could hear it. It sounded like honey, even though it stung his throat as he spoke.
April's face showed no emotion as she looked at him. There was nothing there for August to read, even though he could always read his parent’s faces. "It's so I can find my way home," she answered. Her voice was so monotone. It surprised August. His voice had been so animated as he spoke. He didn’t understand why hers was so different. Maybe, he thought, it was because she was a girl.
"And where is your home?" he asked. He liked the sound of his voice too much, he decided, laughing quietly to himself.
"Just follow the breadcrumbs," she instructed and walked away from the small, pale boy. August gave her a strange look, but didn’t bother going after her. He didn’t care much for the girl. He finally understood why his parents didn’t bother having him associate with other people. They were strange and moody and boring. August easily liked his darkness and his toys better.
August turned around and followed the crumbs. He followed them, once again looking at nothing but them. He kept walking until suddenly, there weren’t any more. There were a few a birds ahead of him, eating away all that remained of the breadcrumbs. Looking up, August realized he was once again back in front of his house. August laughed as he walked back inside his house, back to the darkness.
Please direct all questions here, thank you. And thank you so much for reading.
August felt as if he should remember the day April moved to Herbishire. He remembered it was September and oddly wet. It seemed to be raining nonstop for hours straight. August - a mere five year old - was more observant than his parents. He seemed to pick up on things that most people never would.
But his parents kept him in the darkness. August was fine with it, almost enjoyed his complete solace. August was almost trapped in his house. Not by locks or doors, but by his own fear of the unknown. He had never gone out and he wasn’t sure why he ever would.
But that day, that day he felt as if he should leave. His parents were both at work. Most parents would never dream of leaving their five year old son alone, but August knew from an even younger age that his parents couldn’t care less about him. Sometimes he was sure that they would wish him dead.
The sun felt as if it was going to burn his skin as he stepped beneath it. He was very pale and his skin was extremely sensitive. Very little of it was showing, but it was still enough to hurt him, burn him so easily. He almost ran back into the house, back into the comfort of the darkness.
But he noticed a row of breadcrumbs that were making a pathway past his house and down the road. He followed them, looking at nothing but the small pieces of bread as he walked. They seemed to change size almost as if it was a pattern. It amused the small August.
He eventually ran into a small girl. She was so much taller than August, but she was still short. She had choppy short hair and a bitter look on her face. She was biting her lip so hard that August was sure it was going to start bleeding. He wasn’t sure how she could stand the pain.
Part of him wanted to reach up and touch her lips, to pry her teeth off her helpless bottom lip, but he stood his ground. One thing he learned from his parents was that touching was neither right nor acceptable.
"Why are you dropping all this bread?" he asked. His voice sounded strange in his ears. He almost never spoke. His parents didn’t talk much and as such, he didn’t talk much either. He was surprised at how much he liked the sound of his own voice. He was tempted to say more, just he could hear it. It sounded like honey, even though it stung his throat as he spoke.
April's face showed no emotion as she looked at him. There was nothing there for August to read, even though he could always read his parent’s faces. "It's so I can find my way home," she answered. Her voice was so monotone. It surprised August. His voice had been so animated as he spoke. He didn’t understand why hers was so different. Maybe, he thought, it was because she was a girl.
"And where is your home?" he asked. He liked the sound of his voice too much, he decided, laughing quietly to himself.
"Just follow the breadcrumbs," she instructed and walked away from the small, pale boy. August gave her a strange look, but didn’t bother going after her. He didn’t care much for the girl. He finally understood why his parents didn’t bother having him associate with other people. They were strange and moody and boring. August easily liked his darkness and his toys better.
August turned around and followed the crumbs. He followed them, once again looking at nothing but them. He kept walking until suddenly, there weren’t any more. There were a few a birds ahead of him, eating away all that remained of the breadcrumbs. Looking up, August realized he was once again back in front of his house. August laughed as he walked back inside his house, back to the darkness.
Please direct all questions here, thank you. And thank you so much for reading.