The Legend of Barry {Guts & Blackpowder}

Barry's Salvation and Miracle

Four years later, June of 1805

Barry laid restless in his bed, excited for what will come upon on this sunny, happy day. There hasn't been one cloudy, sorrowful day for years, ever since the day his life had changed for the better. The Sun beamed through the curtains, enlightening everything that had dared to touch its guiding light. The boy... Wait, he's not a boy anymore. The man had grew too big for his tiny bed. He grew too big to the point where his legs were falling off the edge of the bed. But it is better than sleeping on the floor, as what he used to do when he was younger. He propped himself up, using his two hands, and took a look at his room. There was still the same tiny red-covered bed that wasn't as comfortable as it was once before. The softness of the fabric had faded away over the years, and turned to the never-ending itchy fabric that Barry had grown quite used to. He remembered the sad days when he would cry himself to sleep in his bed, grieving the losses of his loved ones. But as Barry grew up, he eventually put his past behind him, and started preparing for his new life. 

The dark wooden desk that was once emotionless became an open portal to his fantasies and wonders. When Barry's journey first started, the desk stayed in the room, empty of any emotions and imagination. It was never used, until the day he dropped one dusty book on its desktop. It was the first book to have ever touched the desk. Little Barry sighed, clearly not wanting to do his schoolwork at that late time of hour. But as time passed by, he became more intrigued with the element of writing, and how it sparked his imagination. The boy would spend hours and hours sitting at his desk, splashing out all his thoughts and fascinations onto just a thin piece of paper. The young boy would go to sleep every night, with his fingers covered in mass amounts of black ink. He wrote poems about anything that came to mind: His dreams, his nightmares, his reveries, and most importantly, his Clementine.

The only object in the room that hadn't changed over the years was the golden-outlined, big mirror. Well, not so big anymore. The mirror still stood tall, that's for sure, but Barry stood even taller. He sat up from the bed, and walked over to examine his reflection. His red hair, that was once curly and big before, was cut short and clean. His face was taller and angler, with a squarer chin and defined structure. His dimples popped out and his nose were proportional, manifesting the image of a perfect physiognomy. Barry's red plump but not too plump lips and fair white skin created a unique appearance, something you don't see everyday. His narrowed, smoldered eyes looked even more mysterious, with its glowing and luminous flecks that would hypnotize anything that looked its way. His narrowed, smoldered eyes looked even more mysterious, with its glowing and luminous flecks that would hypnotize anything that looked its way. Just by staring at his eyes in his own reflection even hypnotized himself. Barry blinked. He realized he's been staring at himself for fifteen long minutes. Before leaving to get ready for his exciting day, he turned back to the mirror and took one quick look at himself. He smiled, presenting his pearly white pearls, well as pearly white as can be. The British was known to have well... Not the best teeth, as I might say.  Barry left over to his wardrobe. He dressed up in his brand-new white calico shirt that perfectly fit his upper body, and his soft brown trousers that didn't perfectly fit his legs. It only went down to the bottom of his knees, showcasing the rest of his slightly hairy limbs. 

He walked out to the dining room and greeted Victor at the table. Victor looked different, but in a really good way. He looked badass. The old man had grew a mustache as white as snow, perfectly matching his earth-mixed, deep ocean eyes, and his pre-possessing appearance. Although he had shrunk an inch or two, his small demeanor didn't affect his hunky-dory poise.

"Good morning," Barry greeted as he walked over to the kitchen, feeling his stomach desperately call out for food.

"Mornin' kid," Victor yelled from behind, "Aren't your trousers a bit too short?"