PS Summer Writing Challenge
The kettle whistled, and Blaise picked it up to pour his hot water. He poured the tea from the pot and into the mug, and took a sip, mouth puckering at the bitterness.
Thunder rolled in the storm outside, but inside Blaise’s flat it was warm. A fire crackled in the hearth, and he pulled out a chair from the table and sat down.
The message was where he had left it, blatantly staring up at him from its place on the table. Blaise glanced back at the fire, where the flames were dancing, but his gaze was reluctantly drawn back to the note that taunted him from the oak table’s surface.
Taking another sip of tea and setting the mug down, Blaise licked his lips and picked it up.
The paper, though he had only had it for two days, was soft with use. The edges had become frayed, and there were several creases in the middle from where he’d put it in his wallet to take to work. He knew the words by heart, and didn’t have to look at the smudged ink to know what it said and consider its meaning.
There is very little time left. If you do not learn to follow my instruction, your entire world will change. You have already tried to fight this, but it will not go away. I know where the ring is, and I also know that you do not yet understand its significance. If you do not follow my instructions closely you will lose something very dear to you. I have it already and will not be afraid to destroy it.
You know what I want. You have no escape.
It was not signed.
Blaise pulled the recipe box toward him and slipped the note into it. He had filed them, in order of reception, and kept them somewhere safe. Perhaps that was just the organized pack-rat in him, but damn if Blaise thought this was an elaborate hoax.
There was no reason for someone to pull such an elaborate prank on him. He had always kept his head down in school, the only person who could possibly have known any dangerous information about him being Draco, who died in the war. There was no reason for an enemy to spring out of the woodwork, for an enemy to know him so closely that they would be able to lead him to the one place he always detested returning to.
Tomorrow his flight would take off at 9:15 am. He had to be alert and ready, but Blaise had always been a night owl and would sleep on the plane. Tonight he had bigger things to think about.
Because tomorrow he would make his debut.
Thunder rolled in the storm outside, but inside Blaise’s flat it was warm. A fire crackled in the hearth, and he pulled out a chair from the table and sat down.
The message was where he had left it, blatantly staring up at him from its place on the table. Blaise glanced back at the fire, where the flames were dancing, but his gaze was reluctantly drawn back to the note that taunted him from the oak table’s surface.
Taking another sip of tea and setting the mug down, Blaise licked his lips and picked it up.
The paper, though he had only had it for two days, was soft with use. The edges had become frayed, and there were several creases in the middle from where he’d put it in his wallet to take to work. He knew the words by heart, and didn’t have to look at the smudged ink to know what it said and consider its meaning.
There is very little time left. If you do not learn to follow my instruction, your entire world will change. You have already tried to fight this, but it will not go away. I know where the ring is, and I also know that you do not yet understand its significance. If you do not follow my instructions closely you will lose something very dear to you. I have it already and will not be afraid to destroy it.
You know what I want. You have no escape.
It was not signed.
Blaise pulled the recipe box toward him and slipped the note into it. He had filed them, in order of reception, and kept them somewhere safe. Perhaps that was just the organized pack-rat in him, but damn if Blaise thought this was an elaborate hoax.
There was no reason for someone to pull such an elaborate prank on him. He had always kept his head down in school, the only person who could possibly have known any dangerous information about him being Draco, who died in the war. There was no reason for an enemy to spring out of the woodwork, for an enemy to know him so closely that they would be able to lead him to the one place he always detested returning to.
Tomorrow his flight would take off at 9:15 am. He had to be alert and ready, but Blaise had always been a night owl and would sleep on the plane. Tonight he had bigger things to think about.
Because tomorrow he would make his debut.