Chapter 1
winter clung to england with frost covered claws, plump rain filled clouds covering the horizon and blocking out any light gleamed from the moon above the quiet cul de sac in northeast birmigham. tall streetlights dotted the winding pavement, casting the red brick houses and accompanying lawns in pools of yellow light, dark patches of unilluminated road stretching like gapped teeth between them. the path that ran alongside the houses was a smooth bleached concrete riddle with miniature cracks in which weeds stubbornly shoved their heads through, green leaves and dandelions persistent in their search for the meagre british sun, unmovable despite the constant trampling of heavy-footed pedestrians and the sparse neighbours’ futile attempts to rip out their immovable roots.
a long tarmac road was nestled between identical chipped pavements, curving gently before abruptly halting at a dead end, its path interrupted by a semi-detached house. this house looked the same as the one beside it, and the one beside that one, and every other house in the small cul de sac, from its moderately sized red bricked exterior, white embroidered front door crowned with a small circular window, and five large windows facing the front road, three on the first floor and the other two on the second. the only differences each house possessed in this middle-income suburb came down to the personalised decorations, results of each family that occupied them.
three houses down from this house lived the o’farroly’s in number fourteen, who’s front facing windows were dotted in small hand drawn pages from their youngest child, paper sun bleached and furling in the corners that weren’t secured onto the windowpane with clumps of blu tak. small stick figured drawings of men in large pointed hats and figures holding odd sticks that glowed different colours at their tips greeting any passers-by who bothered to look as they walked past. number seven was home to an elderly woman whose pale lace curtains where constantly drawn no matter the time of day, lawn decorated in neat beds of flowers and immaculately mowed shrubs, scattered with ceramic gnomes of various sizes. number twenty one was the most colourful of the lot, with the original white painted door now turned a deep blue adorned with a regal gold knocker, regardless of the fact that absolutely nobody ever used it due to the perfectly functioning doorbell resting beside it on the wall.
the house at the end of the road didn’t stand out from the others to any large degree, with white curtains now drawn at night and the front lawn trimmed and rimmed with a neat row of bushes- that was except from the wizards that occupied it. the family themselves where completely ordinary to the rest of the residents of ashburn road, the parents and two children well known to be closets to the neighbours of number fourteen who’s children attended the same boarding school that the family’s oldest already attended, although whenever the residents of ashburn where asked the name of this regarded boarding school, whether that be in tea parties or neighbour barbecues the name seemed to strangely evade them every time.
the night of november eleventh in ashburn, birmigham seemed to be the same as it had been all week. a gentle quite had settled over the residential area, only broken by the sporadic barking of dogs, revving of cars as they passed down the main road that the cul de sac veered off, or the occasion screech of foxes or aggravated cats. the air was crisp and clean, smelling of frost and decaying leaves, chilly enough to leave flushed pink marks on any skin that was exposed for prolonged periods of time, the type of cold to turn exhales of breath into curls of smoke and fingers to blocks of ice unless bundled in coat pockets or fleeced gloves. or warming charms, of course. it was a quiet tuesady night at 11:48pm, boring and uneventful to all families on the road but one. the only house that still had lights on was the house on the end of the road, number six, the soft light spilling through cracks in the curtains and illuminating strips of grass just below the window frames. the residents of number six ashburn road were all still awake. they were expecting someone, after all.
the last streetlight had just flickered out, spilling the end of the road into abrupt inky darkness when the silence of the night was interrupted by a sharp crack and telltale flash of light from apparition. the bulb of the streetlight flickered once, twice before sputtering back into life, pouring artificial buttery light onto two figures that had not been standing there moments before. the distant noises seemed to pause, the muffled noises of foxes rooting through bins, the gentle hum of electricity running through the lamps, and the distant noises of cars all halting, seeming to hold their breath, as if sensing who was now standing at the front of the lawn of number six ashburn road.
the girl was clutching onto the mans aged hand, her other hanging loosely by her side as the man took a slow step forward, bringing the child with him. both were dressed in clothes completely inadequate to the chill november air although seemed completely unbothered by it as they made their descent to the front door, footsteps crunching over the frost tipped grass. before they had even made it two meters from the door it swung open, the light spilling in from the hall briefly obscuring the figures who now stood at the door, gaping open like he jaws of some long forgotten beast.
the tallest of them bustled forwards out from the doorframe and onto the onto the welcome mat in front, blue eyes immediately jumping from the elderly man to the child, back, and then lingering on the child who stood unmoving before her. the old man began to talk, drawing the woman’s attention back to him, his pale blue eyes sparkling behind his half-moon spectacles, long grey beard trailing down his chest and tied with a small ribbon that matched the colour of his irises. his voice was kind and gentle as he swapped words with the woman, only interrupted when she blinked as if coming back into herself, halting him and ushering them both inside, briefly turning behind her to reprimand two smaller figures that lingered behind her, scolding them and ordering them back to bed, before closing the door.
the girl was unresponsive, allowing herself to be guided by the man into the hallway but otherwise standing limp, eyes vacant and utterly oblivious to those around her. the man spoke a few brief words to the woman who’s face softened, large blue eyes full of pity as she bent herself over, long straw blond hair falling over one plump shoulder as she shifted, resting her hands on her apron clad knees to come eye level to the girl, who still hadn’t acknowledged the woman’s existence. she addressed her in gentle tone, pausing to await the girl’s response, tried again, but once it was clear she would gain no response the straightened once more, conversing with the man before nodding, then slowly approaching the child, movements exaggerated and precise as if approaching a startled animal.
she spoke again before gently grasping the child’s limp hand, then carefully tugging her up the stairs while the man watched from below, eyes trained on the pair as they rounded the top of the staircase and made their way down the plush carpeted hallway. the child did not acknowledge the woman who was guiding her, nor the small face that peered around from the door cracked open towards the end of the hallway, straw hair and blue eyes identical to her mother’s as she tracked their movements. the woman pushed open the last door of the hallway, opposite the door in which the observing child was hidden between the shadows and pulled the girl inside of the bedroom.
it was large, with cream painted walls and a large window that overlooked the slightly outgrown garden, thick curtains pushed aside to allow a sliver of thick moonlight that slipped through a crack in the rain filled clouds to pour into the otherwise dark room. the walls where mostly blank spare from a few framed family photos, the largest one depicting the woman pressed into a large bearded man, two small blond children before them, both grinning up at the camera. a large freshly made bed was lined by identical wooden side tables to each aside and sat in the middle of the room, oak headboard pressed against the cream painted wall. the women carefully maneuverer the girl so that she was lying on the bed, lifting the top sheet and tucking her in, fingers softly pushing the girl’s chestnut hair from her face and lingering before she withdrew and silently left the room, shutting the door behind her.
the girl lay there for several hours, waiting until her eyelids began to droop and sleep finally claimed her.
she wished her eyes would never open again.