The Watcher's House - FVK

10

My mum had talked me into to stay over the night in my old room. My childhood bed was too small for me now, not just because I had, perhaps, gained a bit of weight but the fact that I wasn't over six foot tall the last time I slept in it. After an uncomfortable, pretty restless night's sleep, I stumbled down the stairs, obviously they creaked and groaned, more so that they used to. After technically only seventeen years of living in this house, it still made me feel like shit and that it was all my weight.

Mum was already in the kitchen. Her eyes looked sunken into her skull and her skin slightly grey in the morning sunshine.
"Good morning Laurence" She put down the knife she was using to butter bread.
"Morning mum" I sat down at the wooden breakfast table in the kitchen.
"How did you sleep? You were snoring your head off most of the night. You should go and see about that" And there was my mum, always looking out for other people.
"It was pretty uncomfortable. I'm achy" I rubbed my stomach. She put a few slices of bacon on a plate and came and put it in front of me.
"Get this into your stomach" It was a full English breakfast. I couldn't refuse. My mum chuckled as I was throwing the food down my neck.
"Slow down, son" My dad came it, patting me on my hunched over back, my mum sat opposite me.
"So, have you moved back for good? Will you be wanting your room redecorated?"
"I bought a house before I moved here, but thanks"
"Oh where is it? I can come and help you move your stuff in" Dad offered as he sat next to me.
"It's fine, I got it all in yesterday" I replied with my mouth full.

In the late morning, I headed out into the town. My parents said that Kier still lived around here so I was going out to seek him. But to be honest, I didn't have a clue where to start. The town was not really much different for how it had ben twenty years ago. A few shops had closed and been replaced and several new houses, small estates. The pubs were the same, I like how I remembered the pubs. The Queens arms, Three Horseshoes and The Cavalier. Kier's auntie and uncle had owned The Cavalier back in the day. They risked their licence to get his nephew and friends, us, alcohol. I decided to drop in for a pint. It was early but I wasn't really bothered anymore.

The door creaked as I entered, the musty, alcohol smell hit me in the face. It was warm, their was a few old men in there. One I recognised, Frank Murrow. He had been in here, sitting at the table in the corner, since I was at least six. God knows how old he was now, or how destroyed his liver was from being there most of the day for the past thirty years. I closed the door behind me and made my way to the bar. The man tending the bar was drying a pint glass. I dug my hand into my pocket to find some change before looking up, into the aged eyes of my childhood friend.