457The laughter of children running rampant echoed in the halls, sneaking in through the poorly insulated wood-paneling of Sirocco's room. It crept in like the light which flickered as their footsteps briefly shadowed the illuminated crack beneath his door. The walls ached and creaked as the rain outside beat down upon them and the wind made streaking rivulets against the windowpane. As it was pouring relentlessly outside the children at Vesper were to do all their playing indoors until the skies had cleared.457 in Flash Fiction & Vignettes More Like This
Thirteen year old Sirocco sat alone in the dark on his bed, hugging the window that supported his weight and staring listlessly at his own reflection marred by heavy raindrops. He had no interest in playing with the other orphans. He didn’t belong with them. How could they play so happily and carefree? Those children, so filthy and unwanted...he wasn’t like them.
“Your parents will come,” he told his reflection as he had every day for years, staring down a