Just a part of a story I'm writing. This character is not the main character, by the way, just a major minor character.
So any thoughts would be great.
Thanks in advance.
Edwin wailed in his sleep. Not about his parents, who were slowly dying in their room, their hearts punctured by a dagger. Not about the black cloaked figure that stood in the shadows, watching the little baby cry. Not about his house being bit by bit consumed by the fire. But about the fact that his teddy bear was missing.
When the boisterous fire had finally tickled the baby’s toes, and nearly engulfed the whole mansion, the black cloaked figure emerged from the shadows, completely unharmed by the fire. It stooped over the baby, thinking. It made its decision soon enough, and swathed the baby in its cloak and disappeared in a cloud of smoke, carrying the baby in one hand, and a scythe in the other.
Twelve years after the night he was Taken, Edwin could be found hiding in his home, an alcove in a red brick building. He had found it by removing certain loose bricks and – thankful for his small stature – he could clamber in with enough room for him to sit up and long enough for him to lie down. It was the perfect place to hide from the countless criminals in the town of Atlivaia, aside from the fact that it was utterly dark – and cold.
That fact that he was in his Hole and not out in the open pilfering people’s jewels, and snatching whole bags of fruit some people had mistakenly left on the ground, was because of a strange boy, most likely another Streetpicker, who kept on following him and glaring at him with those venomous brown eyes. For the last hour or so, Edwin had tried to lose him by venturing into mazelike alleyways he knew so well. But the boy was never stranded, and kept on following. So Edwin ran.
He ran to his Hole, glancing back, and seeing no one, scrambled into his Hole, piled up the bricks, only leaving a small hole for light, and waited.
So any thoughts would be great.
Thanks in advance.
Edwin wailed in his sleep. Not about his parents, who were slowly dying in their room, their hearts punctured by a dagger. Not about the black cloaked figure that stood in the shadows, watching the little baby cry. Not about his house being bit by bit consumed by the fire. But about the fact that his teddy bear was missing.
When the boisterous fire had finally tickled the baby’s toes, and nearly engulfed the whole mansion, the black cloaked figure emerged from the shadows, completely unharmed by the fire. It stooped over the baby, thinking. It made its decision soon enough, and swathed the baby in its cloak and disappeared in a cloud of smoke, carrying the baby in one hand, and a scythe in the other.
Twelve years after the night he was Taken, Edwin could be found hiding in his home, an alcove in a red brick building. He had found it by removing certain loose bricks and – thankful for his small stature – he could clamber in with enough room for him to sit up and long enough for him to lie down. It was the perfect place to hide from the countless criminals in the town of Atlivaia, aside from the fact that it was utterly dark – and cold.
That fact that he was in his Hole and not out in the open pilfering people’s jewels, and snatching whole bags of fruit some people had mistakenly left on the ground, was because of a strange boy, most likely another Streetpicker, who kept on following him and glaring at him with those venomous brown eyes. For the last hour or so, Edwin had tried to lose him by venturing into mazelike alleyways he knew so well. But the boy was never stranded, and kept on following. So Edwin ran.
He ran to his Hole, glancing back, and seeing no one, scrambled into his Hole, piled up the bricks, only leaving a small hole for light, and waited.