Harrowed ends
A deathly encounter
On the number four privet drive, there was a happy family of three in the small community town of little whinging in Surrey. All were sitting at the table eating eggs, bacon, and chocolate chip pancakes. The family consisted of a man, a woman, and a child. This would be the perfect picture family: a man, a wife, and a lovely child. The only missing thing would be a pet. But everything was not as it seemed; the woman had decidedly fewer portions of food than the two other figures.
She had pale skin, brown eyes, and curly brown hair. She seemed nervous as if something horribly wrong was about to occur. Her eyes darted from her husband and son. Pleadingly she stared at her husband with hopefulness in her eyes. "Acceptable," the large man grouched. As if five tons were lifted off her back, her body relaxed. "Glad to serve honey," the words flowed out of her mouth with hesitation.
And with that, she got to her feet, pushed in her chair, and moved towards the backyard. In the backyard was a boy tending to the flowers. He had black hair, green eyes, and broken glasses on his head. The boy turned around and stared at the woman approaching him.
His gaze was empty, with no expression on his face. When the woman approached the boy. She pulled out a small piece of bacon. The boy grabbed the bacon strip with a grateful look in his eyes. After handing over the amount of bacon, the woman turned around, walked back into the house, and closed the sliding door.
Silence is what I have known for most part of my life. For as long as I remember, I've been in this household for as long as I can remember, my stay of residence has been in this house. Though I am not welcomed. I can tell this by the body language of the big man called Vernon.
Petunia is a friendly enough lady; she gives me food while I work. She seems to be scared of the giant man. I do not blame her because I, too, am scared of the whale. If I satisfy, the end result will be unpleasant for me.
The past week things started to change for me. It all started on my seventh birthday. I accidentally shattered uncle Vernon's cup when delivering his cup of beer.
Later in the day, it started raining, evolved to snow, then thunder with snow. Then the worst happened. I was shoved out into the snow. It was lightly snowing everywhere. It was still daylight. But it wouldn't stay for long; the storm was getting more violent, and my scar was starting to hurt more as this terrible storm went on.
The Dursley's backyard was set aflame with a thunderclap and a flash of bright light. Turning around, I was assaulted by the smell of burning quickly; I decided to run away from the yard; leaping from the nearest fence, I moved faster than ever before. The pain in my scar reached a bursting point. And with a scream, my body collapsed with the strain of a complete lighting strike. I could feel my body burning and my hair fried with the force of what felt like the sun glaring down upon my body.
My eyes close for what felt like the final time. Then suddenly, the whole world turned white, and London shook with the strike of thunder.
