Love is Always Write Anthology Volume 7 Read Free Page A

Journal Number -
     
    As Jeremy returned home, he held the roses he found along the way underneath his large, red jumper. It kept him warm from the incessant drizzle falling from the sky and dampening his simple clothes. Thus, his track through the wilderness to the Wall's entrance was unusually fortuitous by finding the blooms, so he was not as disgruntled as he usually was. His anxiety led him to stride through to the gap in the Wall that would hold any provisions on order, if it were a collection day. However, this was not the case today, so the handful of blooms lightened his mood considerably by making his walk useful.
    The constant cold morning rain fell: light, but enough to have him semi-saturated in seconds. He moved carefully, with perseverance, through the labyrinth of yellow grass tracks in the wild meadows. He passed the opaque hedgerows and trees that outgrew his slender and average frame and height, refusing to break his habit of a walk simply to get dry. The roses will still survive as they are by his heart, in the dry.
    With the velvet petals against his chest, he arrived home, and saw his manor in a new light. Its lines seemed too straight, and the natural design too formalised next to the wilderness beside it, sparking feelings of unease and pains again. He looked up at trellises woven with a fine tapestry of ivy over and around the door, providing a slight shelter from the rain through the arch, and slowed his pace further.
    He took a single step into the shelter with only a single tap of his heel. He froze. Only a few drops fell from the living canopy and onto his dripping forehead as he stood still on the porch. The soft patter of rain was all that could be heard as many minutes passed. The noise that had made him freeze eventually resumed from inside his home.
    It came from the kitchen. As he silently passed through the front door, muted sounds of shuffling, scrapes, soft bangs and muffled curses greeted him on his right hand side, in the kitchen. Being quiet was his skill, and silence was his self-imposed virtue; he may now be the ostentatious eccentric and an enigma in the council, but this was after he ensured his competency and safety in this sanctuary. Old skills were not forgotten as he entered. Silent and like a shadow, he crept over to see the sacrilege screaming from the room.
    Jeremy could not decide if it was the fury or fear, both burning in his chest at the evidence of an intruder, that forced him to sneak into the kitchen to see the extent of the damage. The beautiful shining chrome workspaces were in a state of seemingly irreversible disarray. Cartons and contents dusted all the surfaces and floor; dented aluminium tins rolled sporadically from bare cupboards and shelves. Everything was out of its precise and ordained place.
    While moving with stealth, Jeremy had little idea what to do next. However, after seeing a naked leg stuck out past an island counter cupboard door, he stilled and smiled malevolently, letting outrage stew. The man was obviously trying to get at the secret compartment under the base of the counter top – the cooled compartment where he stored all his chocolate. He could not blame the guy: the chocolate was a luxury few could procure.
    Yes , he definitely was a "guy" if the innate strength that radiated from the pillar of muscle in the protruding foreleg was any indication; as well as the streaks of dirt tracked across the floor from mud-soiled feet as he single-mindedly went about his task – no one could have less pride in their self than a man impassioned could. Nowadays, vanity and pride were essential characteristics of people, so this presented a desperation that was seldom seen in the county under his council and occasional command.
    Nevertheless, Jeremy knew he had to save the chocolate – another order may take months. Not acceptable . His smile dissolved into its usual benign expression as he began the rescue of the chocolaty goodness that was essential