I'm weird; you don’t have to tell me twice. What kind of normal person would follow an oddly cheerful a hundred-something man followed by a pack of wolves? You don’t have an answer? I'm not surprised.
We walked down the long hall in silence. When we reached the door at the end of the room, the ancient old man opened it (although it must of weight 50 pounds) and gestured gracefully for me to enter. I hesitated at first but then figured that if I ran into any trouble with the old man, I could probably weaken him with a pinch.
I walked into the dim-lit room slowly. I heard the old man shuffling in behind me. Unlike the hall, this room was small and cozy. A fire which casted dancing shadows against the walls caused the light. There was a small red love seat five feet away from the fire and two white armchairs on either side of it.
Moving closer I noticed a glass coffee table filled with many small pastries, two white teacups designed with blue flowers, and a fancy white teapot placed between some milk and sugar. “You can sit down if you would like”, I heard the old man say as he closed the door. Without responding I sat down in the armchair to the right of the love seat and helped myself to a mini custard pie.
The old man chucked and walked to the opposite chair. ‘How odd’ I thought when the old man sat on his legs and feet. I looked at the walls and noticed there were pictures, old and new, everywhere. The pictures were of boys, girls, women, men, teenagers and (Surprise, surprise) wolves. When I finished my tartlet, I sat in the chair hands in my lap and staring at the fire.
I saw the old man was staring at me out of the corner of my eye. A gleeful smile plastered on his wrinkled face. “Erin?” he said. I turned to look at him, “yes?” I replied nonchalantly. The mans blue eyes twinkled in the firelight, “We have a lot to discuss, my child” he said leaning forward and grabbing a lemon square off the table. I stared at him and he stared back. “Like what?” I ask. The old man took a bite out of the tart, “where should I begin?”
YOU ARE READING
My Friend, The Werewolf.
Фэнтези"I occupied myself with reading, writing, drawing, exploring, and even just thinking. I would think about a world of magical beings and mythical tales. These are the things I read about too. I knew I was different than the others. I was strange...
