Strange Worlds [Miss Peregrine's Home for Peculiar Children] Enoch O'Connor

three

CHAPTER THREE
GRANDPA PORTMAN

While growing up, Grandpa Portman was my most treasured family member. Well, second most loved family member. He was someone I could talk to. Though, Jacob was always first. Even when we fought, he was my twin, and we knew everything about one another.

When Grandpa Portman was young, he had lived in an orphanage, fought in wars, crossed oceans by steamship and deserts on horseback, performed in circuses, knew everything about guns and self-defence and surviving in the wilderness, and spoke about four languages. It was safe to say that Grandpa Portman was my idol. He was my hero.

We'd always get him to tell us these stories of his time at the orphanage. He'd always oblige to it, of course, and he said the stories in such a way that they seemed secretive. As if he could only entrust Jacob and me.

"There was a big Hawk who smoked a pipe. She was, of course, Miss Peregrine." Grandpa Portman told the children as they sat on opposite beds in the room. The young girl wrapped in a pink duvet while the young - almost identical to the girl - boy was dressed in a blue duvet. The older man sat on a stool in between the beds.

"But what about the monsters? They wanted to hurt you!" The little girl growled and pulled the duvet away from her mouth. "Why did they?"

"Oh yes, the awful hunched-over ones with rotting skin and black eyes," he said, mimicking the actions in his seat, causing tiny giggles to leave the siblings lips.

"Do the walk!" The young boy cheered.

"Like this?" He joked and jumped up from the stool only to come at the kids, and they squealed, jumping out of their beds with a great laugh. He shuffled after them like an old-time movie monster.

When they were finally tired enough, they'd sit back down in bed with giant smiles that would keep them giggling half the night as they fantasised about the fairy tales.