awn approached. Young Queen Audra referred to this time as the quiet hours, the time of day when all fell silent and most people remained locked away in restorative sleep and pleasant dreams.
His name was Cwedolscead. He had not chosen the name and he was not aware of who it might have been who gave him the name. But he cursed them to the rankest, most festering depths of hell, which no doubt, was where they resided anyway. The name was not assigned at his birth, when the first haze of his dark nascent energy belched forth from the blackest hearts of humanity, but came later, the word spewing unbidden from the nadir of damnation, floating on the stench of brimstone to swaddle itself around him, as his disparate strands coalesced into a conscious, if formless being.
When my parents decided I had become old enough to safely wield a pole with a small but hurtful hooked object on a string, I began fishing. At first I only wanted to fish because I was not allowed to, but after I tried it for the first time I became fascinated with the mechanics. With our small, skinny, breakable-looking poles, we could pull mysterious, flopping beasts out of the water that would otherwise swim beneath the surface, undetectable. During the fall and winter months, my father, my sister, and I would frequently take our fishing poles down to the creek behind our house in hope of catching salmon and any other wondrous kinds of fish that frequented the cool waters.
The following morning, a Portkey deposited Fleur at the iron gate protecting Hogwarts School of Wizardry and Witchcraft. She made her way to her apartment where a small but well-placed living room featured a large window overlooking Hogwarts’ Quidditch pitch and a fireplace built into a bordering wall. A bookcase, end table, couch, and two plush chairs filled the room. To Fleur’s left, a kitchenette snuggled aside a short hallway leading to her bathroom and bedroom.
Scuffling just out of sight, the creature sniffed the air and reared it 's head. It caught her scent. It 's leathery black skin made it easier to disappear into the shadows of the forest they were in. The people it was hunting had no such talent.
I slam bolt upright, gasping out of the dream. My hands burrow into my sleeping bag, fingers clutching the fabric, grounding me back into reality. No one else is awake, so I sit there, trying to manage my hyperventilation, unable to understand how a dream can feel so real and still be a dream. I can’t shake the feeling of the blood oozing through my fingers, so I unzip from my sleeping bag and stumble out of the tent and into the frigid night air.
Careful not to make a noise, though it wouldn’t matter if I did, I crept over to my victim sprawled across the floor. One, two, three. I pounded a nail into my target’s head. The satisfying crack of the skull filled the room. Around me, a pool of blood began to form. Trapping, encasing, stopping me from moving. The thick liquid moved with a purpose, though I doubt it knew what that was. Slowly, then all at once, the color drained from his face, like watching the credits of a movie fade into the screen. Gone. Until next time, but, unlike a movie, he didn’t have a next time. Sirens wailed in the distance. They’d be here soon, but it didn’t matter. They were always a couple seconds behind me and that’s all the time I needed to escape.
I rolled out of bed and landed on the ruff discoloured carpet; I hadn 't vacuumed in months. I got up. I stretched out my ridged body. I fumbled to the door, not being bothered to switch on the lights. My tongue was dry and I needed something to quench my thirst- soda. Once I entered the hallway, I was assailed by a blinding light coming from Savannah 's, my sister 's bedroom. Curious - I made my way towards her room as my eyes adjusted to the new-found brightness.
“Mother” shouted the wispy young girl, swinging her long blonde braids in the bright sunlight as she shot out of the little stone house with its big windows, “as the sky is so blue today and the water so tempting, please may I go down to the beach whilst you are at work?”
I feel the rain pelting down on me as I ran across the faded footpath. I blame myself for not bringing an umbrella even when I was compelled to. I find some place to stand under a bus stop. I stand there shivering as the cold seeps through my skin. My long hair is dripping wet and so are my clothes. I think of calling my mum to pick me up but that’s not what I was here for. I didn’t come all the way here for nothing. I have been waiting for this for a whole year, I can’t possibly back out of this.
It was raining. I slowly strolled through the dark, dingy streets on my own. My clothes clung to my skin as the water soaked completely through leaving my limbs numb. Every so often a drop of rain would trickle down the back on my neck making my whole body tremble. The streets were completely deserted. It felt like I had been walking for ages, the cold had completely taken over my body to the point where I could not remember at time when I was warm. I had been walking around for hours, gathering my thoughts. I liked being alone. I liked the rain. The rhythmic sound of the rain bouncing off the pavement relaxed my body and allowed me to connect with myself. I spotted at a park across the road. I walked over, sat on the bench and tensed my