Chapter One [Edit]

It was a simple yet warm cafe. The sort of place where the tables are surrounded by sofas and the food they served where such rich delights to taste, comfort food at its best. It was a quiet place hidden in one of the many backstreets of a small English town. A lot of students and artistic intelligent people all speaking the tongue of their works and their days, whilst sipping there second cup of coffee or taking that last bite of that moist chocolate cake off the spoon. The waitress’s where waitressing and the smiles never ended. In the far corner from the entrance there was a small table, as there are in cafes. Would seem a weakness for a cafe not to have tables for people to place their drinks and so forth. This table held host to two chairs and on the table lay a notebook, bound in brown leather. Clearly over used as the cover and condition of the notebook it’s self was falling apart pages loose, stuffed in between the covers.

At the counter there was a young man of twenty two years or so throwing a few odd coins into the ‘tip’s’ jar, and politely smiling goodbye to the waitress as he does every day. Throwing the bag over his shoulder and placing the hood over his head he opened the door. And set off into the rain.

The rain was hitting and disorientating the young man’s vision as it hits the lens of his glasses.
The winter hours meant that the day was turning dark faster than anyone would really care for.
The street lamps and headlights of cars passing by seemed to envision star like shapes of colour on the lens, a beautiful but distracting thing the man thought, whilst having to take his glasses off to wipe the lens.

He had been walking quite far ten minutes or so, and reached the bus stop, sitting down on the small red bench he placed the glasses back on and checked the time on his watch, having a few minutes to spare he placed the bag on the floor between his legs and rested on the sheet of glass behind him. He was the only person in the bus stop as he looked around through the plastic windows [Or whatever material those flimsy things are] and saw that the roads where deserted, the streetlamps swaying as the wind became increasingly more aggressive. Empty streets on a night like this had a faint sense of peace about them. Chris was one of those guys that wouldn’t mind walking home from a friends at four in the morning, just to have the streets and roads to himself the soft fresh breeze hitting his cheeks and the birds singing their songs of the morning, though these winter nights didn’t give the same desired effect.

Some more time had passed and the only signs of life where the odd busses that past his way. Looking at the watch his concern that maybe he had missed the bus seemed to becoming increasingly so. It’s a rare occasion but sometimes the busses get to the stop early, and don’t bother to wait. Giving it a few more minutes and still no sign of the bus he choose to battle the weather than to wait another twenty minutes or so for the next one. Throwing his bag over his shoulder and stuffing his hands in the pockets he set off into the wind and rain.

It had been a few steps when a sudden though hit him like a brick thrown at his head. Which is how he got the small scar on his forehead, but that’s another story. He realised that he had left his notebook at the coffee shop. Doing the maths he figured if he ran there and back he would have time to catch the next and worryingly the last bus of the night.

A Gamble he was willing to take, and in doing so ran through the empty roads and streets kicking his way through the puddles that lay in his path.

His baggy jeans had become heavy soaking up the rain at the bottom, the jeans swinging heavily with each step he took whipping the floor and then the top of his shoes, spraying the dirt and water with it. He was almost at the coffee shop, a number of thoughts rushing though his mind. Will the book still be on the table? Would someone of picked it up? Maybe the staff and they could have put it aside for someone to claim it. The thoughts jumped out of his head just as fast as he jumped to the side, just missing a young woman with a very elaborate, yellow umbrella. Not turning back he shouted his apology and kept running. It was a shame he didn’t turn to face her. If so he would have seen the young lady he almost knocked to the floor was in fact one of the waitresses who worked at the coffee shop. This would have lead to her explaining that she closed the shop but a few minutes ago.

He gave a loud sigh (which could have be considered as a shout) stood there in front of the coffee shop with the closed sign stirring him in the face, almost mocking him. Tired, pissed off and soaked to the bone he gave off a few heavy breaths spinning his back to the shop and once more set off in a fast flash of anger towards to bus stop.
Chapter 1 - 2 - 3 - 4 - 5 - 6 - 7