The Angel Book by Lillian Anonymous (top 10 books to read .txt) 📕

and a nice place to stay. He was reluctant at first but then he agreed, and followed me inside. I got him a steaming cup of licorice tea and some left overs from supper and sat him by the fire, he devoured the scraps like a wolf does a deer or freshly killed rabbit. He was very scrawny, for him to have survived this long was a miracle, I guess he probably begged for food and water off the streets for him to have lasted this long. He was tall and had silky brown hair back then but its become lighter over the years now it's just a pale blonde color. The only clothes he had was a T-shirt, pants, hand-me-down shoes that were worn to the point that his toes were sticking out, and a small hoodie. When he was finished eating (which took about 2 minutes) I set up some blankets and a pillow for him on the floor by the fire and gave him a glass of water. I know it's silly but I stayed with him until he fell asleep, I just felt so sorry for him. In the morning I went to go check on him, he was gone, I searched everywhere for him until I found him. Apparently my dad had woken up early to get ready for work, when I entered the room I heard laughter. Mark was sitting next to my father at the dining table eating bacon and eggs with syrup on top (my fathers specialty). When they noticed me my father said in a joyful tone, "Look who I found wondering around the house like a lost puppy." I stood there almost in disbelief, my father who was very strict about who I let into the house, was having breakfast with the strange boy I brought home without his permission. Then he spoke again this time in a serious tone, "Ok, now here's the deal, he can stay here and become part of are family, have a roof over his head and stuff. On two conditions, one; there will be no tantrums or fighting, two; he does his part to support the family. That's all, what do ya say?" We both nodded in understanding. And he's been living with us since that day, and he kept his word about supporting the family, my father wouldn't be half the man he is today if it weren't for Marks help. They have great bond.

I continued walking towards the elegant mansion owned and built (from scratch) by father and his associates. I took in all the familiar sights and sounds, the crunching of the old stone walkway under my sleek leather boots, the sound of arguing and conflict I could already hear from outside the building with its tall strongly built framing to its painted clean-cut wood panelling, to its grand front garden full of various (and gorgeous) arrays of flowers and plant, and finally to its tall, glazed, oak doors with shiny golden handles. I walked up the small staircase to the doors and gently pushed them open, un locked as usual. I entered the grand dark-wood foyer, "Dad! I'm Home!.."

Imprint

Publication Date: 05-07-2013

All Rights Reserved