I could hear Irish's low chuckle under his breath after I stormed out. As I swung the door open, it was surprisingly tranquil; just rough merchants scattered around, waiting for someone to buy something from them. After the door slammed back against the wall it caught their attention for a few seconds, staring at me with their soulless eyes, then continuing with organising their tables which contained varied items; from dreamcatchers to butcher knives. There were four merchants, as far as I could see, I wouldn't be surprised if there were a lot more if you walked down the cobbled path.
The town is fairly spaced out, the entrance is big enough to notice, not to mention that there are lights hanging from it. Even if you couldn't find the entrance, there is a ginormous crane in the centre of the town, that's why our town's called 'Crane Town', it's known for how long the decaying crane has been there for. The cobbled path is spacious enough to walk around a big crowd, though there are no roads, maybe because no one can afford a vehicle, or they're just too idiotic to start one. The buildings on the exterior have the same appearance; they have windows boarded up and the walls aren't bricks, they're just huge scrap pieces of metal. It's the same case on the interior, just the essentials you need; a worn-out sofa, a rugged bed, a set of chairs enough for a family of four, a small dining table and a bookshelf. You'd be incredibly fortunate if you had a radio or a two-story house, because that'd mean that you could get more furniture, instead of being in a cramped spot forever.
Unfortunately, there are no televisions now-a-days, only; radios, walky-talkies, projectors and maps. This is a post-war for Christ's sake, we're lucky enough to be alive after a damn bomb nearly blown our asses off!
As I stepped to the side for Irish to be able to exit our home, he grabbed my forearm with a harsh grip.
I hate it when he does this.
I yanked my arm out of his grip, giving him a glare for a second. "I can walk, you know?" I mutter audibly, Irish chuckles under his breath, finding my attitude amusing. Moments later, he nods, glancing down at me.
"I know that, it's just you haven't used those damn legs in ages." Irish says, looking at where he grabbed my arm, then looking back up at me.
"I walk around the house whilst you're busy outside" I mumble, not wanting him to lecture me again over 'my safety'. "I'm not a donkey, so I don't need to be dragged around." I hiss. Irish lets out a rather loud laugh for some reason, none of the merchants seemed to care about the racket. I look up at him, glaring "What the hell's so funny?" I tilt my head, curious.
"The first part of what you said is debateable." Irish says, clearing his throat.
Did he just call me a donkey? Damn... I hate him more.
I roll my eyes, attempting to hide the annoyance. Shoving Irish ahead of me, it allows the door to shut. Booting for door gently, I heard a reassuring click, telling me that it's locked.
"Let's go to wherever the hell you plan to go, already." I groan, showing my impatience. He straightens himself and stands tall, nodding.
"Alright, follow me my little one." He smirks, walking ahead of us.
LITTLE!?
YOU ARE READING
The Flash
ActionLight. It can either allow your vision or disable it; via blinding you. It's harsh either way. you'd be able to see your nightmares in front of you with your own eyes, if not you would feel their presence. When there is light, there is darkness. Whe...
