Once upon a time there was a little boy who lived in London, England. His name was Arthur Kirkland. An eight year old with a normal life. Yet still trying to search for some thing to change. A goal, a person, a reason. Feeling so empty never felt more cold. Arthur's parents weren't any better. So he drifted away in reading. Meeting more people, he found some thing he never noticed. All though he's only eight, he still has a wide knowledge.
May 25th, 1954
Walking down the spiral stair case, it sounded more broken every day. Cracking, little pieces of paint falling onto the dusty ground.
"Ah, Young master. What brings you to this part of London?" An old man, blond with blue fainted eyes asked.
"I'm here for another book. And Francis, please don't call me Young master again." Arthur merely answered, walking past the man he stared onto the wall of books. More laying on tables, covered with more aged dust, unnoticed.
"Don't you take care of the books you clam to hold as your own?" Arthur asked, not expecting an answer.
"Cocky are we now? Brat." Francis murmured, facing his attention to the roof. It dropped a few specks of wood every now and then, from it aging all those forgotten years.
"What was that?!" Turning around suddenly, glaring intensely.
"Nothing~" Francis held up his hands singling he had nothing on him.
Arthur still staring at him, silence grew. Then, an unpleasant atmosphere came. Quicker then expedited.
"Um, so how are your folks?" Francis asked hopping to let down the atmosphere.
"Their fine. Fighting, drinking and getting drunk is nothing abnormal." Arthur said, a faint frown formed on his face. Though, he let out a grin, forgetting that frown ever happened. Walking steadily, he grabbed the first book that come in sight.
"Leaving so soon?" Francis said backing up, almost being knocked in to by Arthur.
"Yes, and don't come along with me. I'm going to Brother Scotland's." Arthur said climbing the stair case again, now in a hurry.
Francis smiled, watching him make his way to the lighter world.
"It's hard. I know. Jeanne..." Francis said, his voice fading away. He slowly walked to his favorite book, sitting in the far corner. The book was opened to a page, it showed a picture of a woman. Short blond hair, a steel shield, and flag. Her eyes closed, sleeping never to awake from a ever lasting dream. Seeing the drawing, tears fell. Making the old man's eyes blurry and watery.
Thank you, all that was what Francis could say. Memories flowing back, creating more tears. A smile formed on the his wet face.
"Come back to me, soon." Francis pleaded, falling to his knees. Knowing his wish was never going to be fulfilled.
Arthur, hearing his cries stood still at the top of the stairs. Though, after some time he continued, emerging into sun light. With his book at his side he walked away from the door that lead under ground. The under ground area where he spoke with the old man. But, alas its becoming harder everyday to speak to any one now.
A/N: Hello, Arthur here. I did have a draft for this story, but turn into this. Reviews sound nice, so if you will, please do tell me what you think. Also, I'm working on this with a friend. She can't get into her profile at the time, so we're just going to upload the story on my profile.
Thanks for reading! Review and all that good stuff!