Prysmcat's Fantasy

Leo paused at the gate to the old house, a hand on the iron. The overcast sky spit the odd bit of drizzle at him now and then, just enough for water to bead on his blue-and-green sweater, not enough to really be a problem. Besides, he’d be inside soon enough, he hoped.

All his research had told him that the house was big, but he hadn’t realized quite how large it was. Not as big as some, admittedly, but it certainly made a declaration to the world about the owner. It had been a great stately home, built in the late 1800s, an era of servants crowded into small quarters staying out of sight while attending to all the needs of the landowner’s family and their luxurious spacious residence.

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Amerie trudged along the road, head bowed. The temperature was dropping with the sun, and wrapping her arms around herself was little help: she was wearing only a hoodie over a tanktop and worn track pants, not even socks inside her battered running shoes.

Some way back, she’d seen children in their costumes running around from house to house, supervised by parents, some in elaborate and expensive costumes, some in homemade ones, a depressing number in those cheap things that were just a printed plastic bag and a mask. She knew better than to think that all those kids had wonderful family lives, but at least they probably had a bed to sleep in tonight.

She hadn’t seen a house in a couple of minutes. Somehow, she’d walked out into the outskirts.

Maybe she should turn back. The sky was clear but that only meant no rain. It could still get cold. It shouldn’t be enough to kill at this time of year, but if she fell asleep outside with no shelter and inadequate clothing, it wasn’t impossible. At best, it was going to mean being miserably uncomfortable. She had no money, though. Maybe the folks at the diner would recognize her and let her have something hot on credit, or let her work for it. Even mopping floors would keep her indoors.

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