Wrong Light (Complete)

Unknown

Drip…drip…drip…

The rain hit the window as the heavens decided to cry on this Saturday night.

Creak…creak…sigh…

The old rocking chair rocked forward and back before the old man occupying sighed in annoyance.

Creak…rock-rock…

The old man stood from his rocking chair, making the chair rock on its own until it came to a stop.

Step…Step…Creak…Whoosh…

The old man walked to the window and opened it, the cold wind entering the room and hitting the old man’s face.

He sighed in annoyance once more before making his way through his small cot to the door. He grabbed his coat off the rack, and placed it around his small and frail body. He opened his door and stepped out, closing the door behind him. He took three steps down his porch and continued the way to the street. He pulled the coat’s hood over his head before walking down the abandoned street. The rain poured down heavily onto the man, turning him wet and cold. But he didn’t care. He was used to the cold feeling. He walked past many houses, all which of lights were on and the curtains were open.

But as he passed every house, the curtains closed. That is because the residence were afraid the old man might just come to them for support. But this old man knew no one would help him, no matter how politely he might ask or how desperate he was. He was alone in his own problems. No one to help him.    

The old man kept walking through the street, his usual sad face staring at the pavement. He kept walking for what felt like hours as he was drowning in his own thoughts. He suddenly stopped. He had walked straight into a tree. He looked around him to notice that the last house was about 10 metres from him. He turned back to the tree, more trees following behind this tree. A forest. The old man entered the forest, not caring of the inhabitants or if he may get lost, seeing as he has been in this forest many times before.  

His cold eyes examined the small detail of the forest as he passed through. The squirrels hiding in a hole tree bark, using it as cover from the cold rain. The birds sitting in their nests high up in the trees, keeping their eggs warm. The loose sticks, branches, leaves, and fruit fell to the ground from the heavy rain.

The old man made his way through the forest until he came to a stop. In this forest there was a waterfall which fell ten metres down. The old man usually came here and sat on top of the hill, looking down the waterfall from the side. It soothed him. But this time was different. There was already someone occupying his spot. At the tip of the hill stood a cloaked, soaked black figure. The figure had a small body though. The figure suddenly turned to the old man, his face hidden under the cloak and the darkness of night. The old man was confused. No one dared come into this forest…

“Who are you?” The old man asked with his frail and weak voice.

“I believe it is common courtesy to give your own before asking for another’s.” A young male voice answered back with a British accent. The old man was slightly confused as to why a young British boy would be in a forest located in Italy.

“Well then young man, I am known as Darius Trancy.” The old man answered with politeness in his voice. “Can I ask for your name?”

“Of course. I am known as Thomas Williams.” The old man nodded at him.

“Now mind telling me why such a noble British young man is here under the rain on a hill in Italy in the middle of the night?” The old man said with confusion clearly written in his mouthful of words. Thomas simply chuckled before answering.