Book One: Miss Peregrine's Home For Peculiar Children (My Remake)

Chapter 20~A Loopless Day

My tired feet dragged across the dirt ground as my eyes strained to stay open against the annoyingly bright sunrise. Jacob was no different - we were bodies filled with fatigue. I didn't bother start a conversation, and neither did Jacob. We were too busy reflecting upon our newly envisioned realizations of the loop, me profoundly so. My mom - my dead mom- was peculiar, of all things! I thought of minuscule moments I could have possibly guessed her ability; the plants and flowers she cared for were always blooming beautiful colours, not a single shrivelled leaf; her skin as soft and lush as a petal from one of her flowers she grew; her mind sharp with new ideas and un-blurry memories. And yet, she sacrificed it all for me. Not a single hesitation. Not a blink of an eye. Just pure determination.

But then, there was the other realization - the dark, demeaning one that would make you shudder. The hollowghast: spawns from hell made for the sole purpose of devouring any peculiar within a hand's reach, then, to become a wight, only to help with the same task for another. One of the only few flaws in the peculiar world, and it was a pretty big flaw.

Up ahead, bottle holding men hobbled about in front of the Priest Hole. I should have suspected this, Kev recently decided to open the pub at five in the morning on Saturdays. The tumbling drunks was the stunning result. Kev told me it was his 'tactic' in business, since the busiest day for people on the island was Saturdays, he assumed it was also the day most people let off steam, and alcohol was the perfect plug-puller. The way I see it, Kev made a good choice.

Those who weren't drunk and were actually awake at this ungodly hour on purpose, were those of the early waking fishermen who claim 'the early liners are the first to the diner'. Some trudged through the streets, set with expressionless faces and heavy looking fishing gear. Others spoke to each other in hushed voices by the harbour front, waiting for someone of the crew to finish checking the boat and head out to their second home from home, returning at nightfall.

I always found these guys to, unsurprisingly, smell like fish and salt water 24/7. You knew instantly who someone was the moment they entered the room just by their smell. Farmers smelt like sheep, manure and their own unique funky scent mixed in, store owners smelt like freshly painted wood and alcoholics smelt like, well, alcohol. Martin was the one outsider of all this, he always smelt of coffee with whiskey or shaving cream. I smiled to myself, remembering Martin and his 'so called' secret ingredient.

The door to the Priest Hole shot open, nearly banging Jacob in the face, and a stumbling man took two steps, then collapsed onto him. "What the hell?!" Jacob yelled, unready to bare the weight. I held my breath in an effort to not burst out laughing, which failed horribly and I choked on my spit. Jacob strained to keep his balance and that of the drunk man while he tried to keep them both steady. They began doing this strange dance involving much grunting and swearing, until the man slumped back and hit the wall, then slid to the ground.

Jacob regained his posture, breathing heavy, then took a double take to the man now dozing off to sleep on the ground. "Dad?!" he shrieked.

Mr. Portman's head drooped, then lolled upward to face Jacob. "Jayob, is-tha-you?" he slurred. His eyes fluttered tiredly when his hands suddenly shot to the sides of his head and he groaned in pain. "Ughh, my head."

"Dad, what the - Were you drinking?!" Jacob towered over his dad. His face was in shock, the previously tired mood he was in, now dissipating.

"No." He hiccuped, then looked down to his hands, squinting. "Wait . . . Maybe."

"Daaad!" Jacob complained, as he hauled his dad's shoulder over his back. I held the door open for them as they tumbled into the pub. A few heads turned to our direction, but this was a normal sight, and they instantly lost interest, staring back at their glasses. Somehow, we made it up the stairs with a few "bangs" "ows" and "sorrys". Jacob tossed his dad onto the bed and sighed with relief. The alcohol wreaking man instantly fell into a deep sleep.