• • Book two in the SPARK duology • •
Her skin glows, her fingertips draw to points like a lion's claws. She smiles at the thought of inflicting pain on those in front of her.
And this terrifies her.
It has been three months since Adeira Langston se...
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Dépaysement
(n.) when someone is taken out of their own familiar world into a new one • • •
WITH MY BACK PRESSED AGAINST the side of the Enthen's home, I waited for the anything but noiseless escape of Mr. Gregory as he climbed out of the bedroom window. At the same moment, Mr. Enthen entered the front door of his home — after a late night at the Gregory's — whistling an off-key tune. Mr. Gregory then scampered by my hidden figure in the darkness, tucking his shirt into his ill-fitting pants, returning home to his wife.
That was my cue.
Slipping to the front of the house, I pulled a note out of my pocket and weighed it down with a rock at the doorstep. Mrs. Enthen will find out in the morning that she's not the only unfaithful partner in her relationship.
This definitely was not the most gracious of gifts I have given them. I once left a pile of pig feces for them to step in on their way out the door, however, that does not compare to the wicked doing of ruining a marriage, even if it'd be forgotten next reset. A wave of shame washed over my conscious for a moment, but just as quickly dissipated when I recalled exactly what the Mr. and Mrs. had done during a certain Raid the Village game.
I made my way through the quiet streets, guided by the hazy light of the low moon; Dawn would arrive in a few hours time and no one would be outside again until then, save a few fishermen.
Reaching the docks, I looked down at Enoch's old pocket watch; I made great time tonight. The dock carried a chill, and a soft breeze rocked the platform below me. Squatting down, my hands began to grope the side of the dock, brushing the water as I did so. I swallowed a rush a fear as it lodged itself in my throat; I still hadn't gotten over large bodies of water, even with how often I make this journey.
I searched for a specific indent — click — and a thin block of wood slid out of a compartment, laying just above the water. I reached into my pocket, pulling out a letter sealed with the wax I had stolen from a villager's home one night. I sighed heavily. I couldn't keep stealing from Miss Peregrine, so I did what had to be done.
Do what has to be done.
I closed my eyes, rubbed a hand over my forehead, and placed the letter into the compartment. I waited for a click to confirm its proper concealment within the dock, and began a light jog back home.
