A Pleasant Village Called Selk

Chapter 7

Family Reunion

'Twas' a compelling notion , to be sure: kindness is the medicine that heals even the healthy.  A thought such as this impelled the consideration of  a fascinating questions: what breeds kindness? What is the cause of kindness? I believe that even I as a mortal, insignificant man have concluded the truest answer: chaos brings forth the compassion and selflessness within us all, hence is what also brings forth kindness.' 

Having had to endure the presence of the loathsome being that was Phelan's bitch-of-a-mother, Samuel could not help but feel rather wistful about his family life. The reminder of those years had set the man on edge, and he wished to be rid of such frivolous emotions. With an unknown destination in mind, both his mind began to wonder as his body wandered. Samuel had not felt this way in a very long while, and it was bemusing how a simple meeting had stirred him in such a way. Before he acknowledged what he was doing, he drew a circle in the sand with his chalk, and went to the place that was once confined in the crevices of his mind: 'home'. It was not home in the sense of returning to a pleasant, cosy house that was always welcoming (something people usually thought of when the mentioning of one's 'home' is brought up). 'Home', for Samuel, was merely an unpleasant reminder of his childhood, to which he consistently ignored the memories of. 

There were many things the Anthrop hated within his meaningless life, and his 'home' was one of them. He questioned why he made his way to the small block of flats, and why his long, tree-like legs forced him to the door he could not help but always frown at. Up the stairs to floor seven, through the door and down the corridor and on the nineteenth door on the right. Despite having not been in such a filthy place for so long, he still remembered every detail to the grim abode he called 'home'. The wall were the same colour as the floor: slate grey, with specks of chipped white. The number on the door glinted menacingly from the daylight, the bronze colour reminding him of worse times.

Perhaps it was the pasty walls, the dirty floors and the intimidating metallic nineteen on the door that resulted in the rise of bile in Samuel's throat, and his mouth to go dry. He raised one blue-gloved hand, and paused. Did he really wish to do this? Did he really wish to see them? He could tolerate his sister well enough, it was his brothers he disliked. Samuel's mother- well, she wasn't so much a mother as she was a husk of a former strong-willed woman. Samuel did not know whether his siblings even still lived in that vile flat, but he knew that his mother would be. Although he did not like any of them very much (the only one who he mildly liked was his sister), he wanted-no, needed, a sense of closure. He cursed the man that was Mr. Milson (as he was the one who had said once that this moment would come). It was that Selkie who had once stated that in order for the plan to fully go accordingly (and for his beloved to be more likely to survive the ordeal that was to come), Samuel needed to cut all ties with his past life, and accept it.

Samuel was not sure if this 'acceptance' Mr. Milson spoke of was entirely necessary, nor did he know whether he was even capable of such 'acceptance'. He believed that this unfortunate scenario was although inevitable (if what the Selkie said was anything to go by), but not so soon. The Anthrop towered over the door, yet he still felt ever-so small before it, like he did all those years ago, before those boys, before seeing the love of his life for the first time, and before he was confronted by Rausflo 'for a deal he could not refuse'. 

Samuel steeled himself, and resolutely knocked on the door with a little more force than what was necessary. He heard the buzzing thoughts of the person behind the door before they opened it. They looked puzzled for a second as all they was was a blue-clad chest, but after a moment or two, they looked up into the wolfish face of their brother. He was taller than she remembered. How long had it been since her little brother had paid them all a visit? Too long, in her opinion. He had always been a sensitive boy, prone to associating things with others, so she somewhat understood by he stayed away from their childhood home due to the many memories he had of it- what they had of it. In her bemused mind, she said what any other British person would do in such a confusing, awkward situation.