Dream - l.t {au}

2

The final moments of traipsing through the wind and rain were blissful. I had my gaze as always, fixated on the floor. The busy city sounds had subdued and slowly the sound of cars driving past and the splashes of tires in the puddles became irregular.

The only sounds now being the calming voices in the wind and the delicate pattering of rain against cobble stones and pavement. Now paying attention to the change of thick, water glazed slabs of concrete to uneven cobble stones and water permeating through the cracks I checked my surroundings.

I had clearly been away with the fairies and I didn't even notice how far I had walked. I was standing what looks like on the outskirts of the city, nobody was in sight.

Knights street.

I could barely distinguish the road name due to the aggressive and distasteful graffiti adorning the road sign but yet it could make it out to be my destination.

Look out for the bright yellow door.

My eyes roamed the street trying to pin point the building I had been longing to see. Every door had clearly experienced weathering, the flaky paint work and water stained fascias of the houses gave off a lived in vibe.

Look out for the bright yellow door I reminded myself.

I tensed at the sight of the bright yellow door halfway down the street. I had finally found it. I noticed an all aphotic black Toyota Tundra parked out side. They are here.

At a moderately slow pace I advanced down the road nearing the drive way I was to own. And but saying own I mean live in because I had no other options and the house was forced upon me.

Gulping harshly and trying to force respiration to take place I trudged on. My eyes darted to the dark figures watching me through the window. My grip on the folder stuffed under the garments of clothing tightens and the hand that was encased in my pocket tensed. The stuffed hand bind-ed my fingers around a flocculent in the deep pockets squeezing tightly. 

The hand clutching the folder to my chest securely was red, wet and numb due to the promenading around town in the horrendous weather. I tried to hold on tightly to the folder and at the same time tuck my petite hand in between the fastenings of my oversized and donated coat.

My body had reached my porch and feebly I took my warm hand out of the pocket and wrapped my fingers loosely around the knocker and rapped on the door gently. Shocked by the loud sound I retreated my hand, took a step backwards and waited.

Not long after I herd the sound of shuffling behind the door and my gaze dropped to the 'Welcome' mat outside. My ears picked up the sound of the door swinging open before my eyes noticed the movement. 

"Blair Sanders?" A rough male voice asked. 

"Yes." My voice failed me and came out as a soft and delicate tone rather than the confident tone I had been told to use.

"Well, do come in. This is your home after all." The gruff voice beckoned me in. As I stepped a foot in the door I took notice of two other voices. A young man and a woman's voice.  Both I could detect. Both I did not want to hear.

"Ah, Blair do have a seat." The woman's voice declared. I raised my head a little seeing the seating arrangements that they had made in my house.

The man that let me in put a hand to my back and ushered my into the sitting room. The woman's figure was perched on top of a futon. The young man sat on the right side of the off white/grey sofa and there was a rather large print of a heavy body on the left side of the sofa. That must have been the man that has his hand placed on my back. I picked up my head again, raising it higher and noticed the off white/grey striped chair in between the futon and the sofa.

I made my way past the coffee table that was scattered with ideal homey things. There was a TV remote, three coasters supporting three cups of tea and one empty, a small plate that held a digestive biscuit and a few crumbs and a issue of Vogue and Cosmo positioned carefully on the light beige oak wood.

"How was getting here Blair?" The woman's voice asked with a superior tone.

"Cold, wet and long. What else?" I spoke in an almost bitter tone. 

Just like I was taught.

I herd the woman let out an exasperated sigh quietly. If I wasn't used to picking up small insignificant sounds by now it would have gone unnoticed. A small smirk let its self onto my surely red features.

Knowing who this woman was and the young man I managed to pull my face up to meet theirs. I double checked each of their features. They both had a scar situated on their faces, she had peroxided bleach blond hair that made her complexion pale and old. The young man the same dull ginger hair that still managed to stand out even though it was more of a burnt orange that had been in the mud than a carrot top. He still had pudgy cheeks yet structured cheek bones and thin cold looking lips that were almost always in some sort of smirk.

I never noticed what eye colour they both had. I might know them well enough but the only eye contact I am able to make with someone is if I have trust in them and they are very close to me, and well apparently the boy who bumped into me today. Its safe to claim I will never be able to look anyone who is in this room in the eye. For many reasons. Not just the lack of faith, trust and relation as my close family.

The older mans features did not go unnoticed. I peaked a look at him through the locks of my hair that often fell over the sides of my face and over my eyes. Peaking through the locks I saw a inflated belly peeping out from under a bright blue shirt, hanging over a pair of XL black trousers. The suit jacket he wore on top of his upper half was tight fitting across his bulging arms signifying that he was too big to wear it.

He had greasy hair featuring a shade of black and many grey hairs. I took a brief look at his face to see a pair of rosy plump cheeks and no smile or expression on his lips. Yet again I didn't dare look into his eyes but something about his eyebrows was very distracting. Well I should say eyebrow as in the singular. 

I looked away from him and stopped analyzing the man and focused on the conversation I was forced to listen to and take part in.

"You have your folder don't you Blair?" The rough old voice of the elderly man spoke up. 

"Yes." I stated a lot more confident than I had spoke the first time I spoke to him.

"Good... good." the woman's voice echoed.

"Well you must remember-" The woman started to only have my finish her sentence. "- to never lose it." I finished.

"And that its the most important thing you have possession over, if fact its the most important thing you will ever have." She supported the statement they had always reassured me with.

I bowed my head in a some what agreement with them and stood up.

"That all?" I asked proud that I had not stuttered once in their presence.

They all stood up slowly, to what I imagine was to gather their belongings and walk to the door.

"Yes that is all Miss Blair. We will be in touch some time, or expect a call from the company." The young man said as they all opened the door and walked out to their vehicle.

"Don't forget to look after that folder Miss Blair." That was his last word before I shut the door and bolted the lock.

Well I updated. I do have to say that I'm rather happy with this. Don't forget to leave a comment or vote on this chapter if you want. Stay fab bitches ILY