Mary Keeny was a frail, old woman with arthritis stricken joints and a creaky back, but what she also had was a hatred. A hatred of what the world she had grown up on had become. She hated most things about it. The disrespectful kids. All of these heathens that littered their once beautiful world.
She stood up from her old, red velvet arm chair and grabbed her walking stick. It was 11:30 and she was beginning to feel tired of staring outside at the rain. She walked down her hallway, the old wooden stick banging ominously against the creaky floorboards. Just as she turned to head up her stairs, however, she heard a loud, panicked knock at the door. She sighed as she turned to the old wooden door. She heaved open the heavy Door. Stood outside was her sinful grand-daughter, her face drained of blood, shivering in the rain and tears staining her face. In her arms laid a little bundle, a baby wrapped in a torn blanket. Mary looked at her grand-daughter with distaste.
"I can't take it anymore." Karen muttered just over the sound of the rain.
"What do you want me to do about it?" Mary replied with a old croaky tone.
"Take it out to the the aviary to starve, Bury it alive. I don't care as long as its dead." She said. Her voice was shaking violently. "Please!"
"Don't raise your voice at me." Mary said sternly. She snatched the baby out of her grand-daughters arms and before Karen could cry out anything the door was slammed in her face.
Mary pulled on her raincoat and carried the young child out into the fields. She approached the old aviary, the little boy in her old arms. He was crying, crying for his mother.
Mary stopped walking and looked at the child shivering in his blanket. God had led them all to this, she thought. Did God want the child to die? Mary thought about it for a second, before turning on her heel and heading back to the old Manor. She walked up the stairs to the back porch, her bland grey hair soaking wet. What was she going to do with this boy? She had to keep him, he could be of use especially with Mary's aging and stiff joints. She had lots of unused rooms in the old house so it wouldn't be a trouble of space. All that she needed was a name for the little boy and she had just the one.
Jonathan.
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A/N
Sorry that this is a very short chapter. I had written most of this book but all of the progress vanished so I'll try to write as much as possible.
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Fear's awakening (The Scarecrow)
Fanfiction(Completed) When Mary Keeny took in the boy, she never expected what she found. Jonathan Crane was far from normal, living with his somewhat fanatical grandmother, he hid behind a mask to hide his true self from his peers, but behind the mask hide...
