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Chapter 4 - Finn | The Witching Hour

Chapter 4: The Witching Hour

I sat down on the corner of the pavement that had no house above it for me to disturb. The liquor I had been drinking all through my time spent in Baneberry Lane had long since passed my head. I was completely sober, and I completely felt worse than I did in the afternoon.

I felt the side of my cheek were the blood from my mouth had dried and the sting of my father's hit had cooled down. I was hungry, cold and lost, but neither made me want to find my way back to the manor.

So I sat with my legs spread out in front of me and my expensive white shirt had enough grime and dirt on it to make any servant lady at the house gasp. I laughed to myself at the thought. I quickly shut my lips in case anyone saw me and thought of the wrong idea. Night was closing in and a crazy young teenager was sitting at the side of the road with nothing but the shirt on his back and the small pouch in his pocket.

I coughed against the cold and knew I had to find somewhere warm to sleep for the night. Perhaps, I could convince a bakery if I could sleep outside their furnace enclosure. I thought I would be able to find a lodging house when the carriage driver dropped me at the head of the street. Yet, the first passing woman I asked laughed straight at my face.

"Ain't nobody wantin' to lodge in The Valley, lad. Get yur wits aboot you" I strained to understand through her accent. It turns out the further south you go, the deeper the illiteracy and unability to articulate. Then I thought it was nice of her not to rob me having known I was wealthy from my accent. So I asked her where the nearest bar was instead.

"Plenty of those around" before redirecting me to a pub just on the edge of Baneberry Lane. It turns out she had a kid around my age and she knew if had the choice, he'd stay the hell away from The Valley as often as he could.

I wondered why the people called it The Valley. I later asked the bartender and he looked at me like I fucked his wife in front of him. I quickly paid for the four pints of beer I had and ventured out the pub.

So that left me here, at the corner of Baneberry Lane. Just dark enough for no one to see me and jump me. Yet, in a place where the dark just so happens to be where the residents most feel comfortable.

"Excuse me, can I help you?" the softest voice sung from behind me.

At first, I thought I might still be drunk. Perhaps, I wasn't as sober as I initially made myself out to be. No voice that gentle was made for a place as verminous as this.

"Sir?"

I turned my head around and looked down a set of stairs to a young boy around my age standing in front of a doorframe with a lit lantern in his hand. I swallowed a cold breath and stared at his features.

The moonlight and the candlelight was enough to make out the choppy dark brown hair that sprayed against his forehead. His youth given away by the smooth lines of his face. I couldn't stop looking. He had a splatter of freckles across his nose, his eyes a hazel from what I could make out.

"I-I'm sorry" I spoke before trying to get up from my position. The swift change made my head rush and I lost my balance before tripping over my own feet. I saw the boy dash from the door and run up the stairs to where I now lay on the cold pavement.

I raised my hand to let him know I was okay, and mentally hit myself for being so clumsy. I got up to my feet and dusted my hands by the sides of my coat. I looked at him and was taken aback by how close he stood now.

I could see the curves of his face and the dips beneath his eyes. He shifted under my scrutiny and looked at the pavement underneath us. Not knowing if it was a game of the light, but his features seemed too soft for somewhere like this place. For somewhere like this world.