Credits: Marvolocore-library
Sweat beaded at your temple. You ran as fast as your legs could possibly take you, your heart's beat pounded in your ears. Sand coursed itself in between your toes. Your satchel (which contained your oxford shoes and socks) bounced behind you, resting above the hindside of your rolled-sleeve button-up shirt. Your dark-grey trousers - which were tucked over your shirt and held up by brown suspenders - began to feel further uncomfortable as you ran farther down the ocean's shore. Of course, you would step on the occasional shell and you would let out a faint, ouch.
It was 1956, your loop was gone, and the nearest hiding place was Cairnholm, Wales. Where Miss Peregrine's loop lay virgin.
It was the only possible loop you could hide in, your previous one had been raided by the monstrosities and you were devastated - for the most part.
If you were something other than devastated, you were deeply disturbed. And by disturbed, I mean in grief.
All of your friends, your family, had died. All their bodies lay eye-eaten and to-be-rotten. You had watched as the monster's shadows staggered away, tentacles retreating into the threshold of shark teeth.
You switched your trail to a mucked path that lead into the bog that held the contents of refuge. Still running but at a slower pace.
As you run further into the wetland, trees began popping up every so often, until a canopy of trees blocked the sun from physical view until it led up to a rigged cavern. Halting to a stop, you rested your hand on your chest and began to regulate your heartbeat - it was part of being cardiokinetic.
You walked up to the cairn's entrance. Resting your hand upon the stone archway and peering inside. It was dark and otherwise quiet besides the few drops of water that formed from the stalactites.
You entered the cairn, careful to avoid tripping over pebbles.
You travel to the opposite end of the arch, leading you to a sun-filled sky.
You invited yourself to run to where the house was located, even if that meant passing another canopy-covered-bog.
You walked up to the house's front patio and gave a deliberate knock. Moments later, you could hear the clacking of a heel coming toward's the door.
The door swung open, and you were met face-to-face with a charming woman. Her jet-black hair was put in a unique updo, with streaks of violet-blue. She wore a black-collared jacket that appeared almost leathery, and her eyes were outlined lightly with black eyeliner.
"Oh, you must be one of Miss Starlings'." She eyed you up and down, "Ah, yes. You surely look like one of hers. Is there anybody else with you?"
"No, ma'am. Just me." You said solemnly. Your eyes drifted to the floor before reconnecting with the Headmistress'.
She frowned, letting out a mournful grunt.
"Anyways," she piped. "What was your name?"
"[Name]," I chewed the side of my cheek, offering my hand.
She took it and gave a vigorous shake before letting go, "well, we should bet getting you settled now." I just nodded in return, following her as she hobbled up the flights of stairs.
She lead you to an ornamented room. A big bed lay simply in the corner and the walls were racked with bare shelves.
"This is where you'll be staying," she said, removing her pipe. "I'll introduce you to the rest at supper." She parted her lips and smoked on her pipe.
"One question," you speculated. "When is dinner."
She smiled, "five o'clock. Don't be late."
You gave a simple nod as she departed from your presence. Throwing your satchel onto the bed and unbuttoning three of your buttons that ran down the front-center of your collared shirt. You seated yourself on the mattress next to your bag.
