Home sweet home

The few miles back 'home' seemed much more delightful. I never realised the beauty of the city with the way on how she describes everything at first glance. She truly has a way with words. Describing how the lamps lead a beautiful path of dimly lit gravel, how the silence is an empty canvas for sounds. It goes in all different directions. The sounds of pain, suffering, hate and grief can be overcame with joy, laughter and the miracle of music. This girl really has mastered the ways of words. Her voice is like honey poured onto my soul. Very beautiful. Unlike her voice, this excuse for a home stood in front of us. I expected much more of a reaction than just a curious little face looking, studying everything I, or more accurately, we have. An old RV, barely just a piece of metallic garbage if you ask me, matched with the cramped alley way. It wasn't in its finest moments, dirt and grime in more than just nooks and crannies.

Although quite the mess it was, it was a good find. There were some seats with leather still in tact but I'm not sure for how much longer. An old box TV with a cable running along it's back and snaking its way up and through one of the rather many holes on the ceiling that were poorly blocked by cardboard boxes. Attached to it was a rusted antenna. Although this 'home' wasn't a good one to get, it was the best one I could've gotten. Hey, beggars can't be choosers. Sometimes when I think about it, I'm kind of happy to even find shelter. That would be the case if someone didn't die in it while crashing into the alleyway. I'm sure that just an old made up tale Enol made

up totry and scare me away o something.

I've said, beggars can't be choosers. 

                                                       Enol

   Enol (pronounced eh-nuhll) stood to the front of the doorway. This guy, slightly older than me by age but his appearance would like to tell you otherwise. He had quite the facial hair for someone three years older than I was. His hair was quite, I wouldn't say long but more 'fluffy' than the usual. Like a mini afro now that I think about it. His spectacles were cracked but I DID find them in one of the rubbish bins near the park. He kept complaining how he couldn't see 'jack' because he kept reading. His bookworm side of him didn't seem like ANY other side of him altogether.

   I saw Enol eyeing the girl. I glared back at him. He just started laughing, " Woah dude, haha, take a chill pill. We're all friends here, aren't we? We best be if you wanna stay in my alley way mansion." I was doubtful on whether I could trust Enol with- wait. I still don't know this girl's name. Enol gave back a knowing smile. "Fret not, little one. For thou am an ally if thy wish thou to be. Now if thy may ask such a fine little princess, what shall thy call thou? What shall thou name be?" Enol questioned her, although the horrible knight speech was a new one for me, she seemed to giggle a bit but still hid behind my back and grabbing my shirt, showing no sign of letting go. "M-my name's Sole," she answered. Enol was always useful like this. It's weird how he always knows what I'm thinking.

   He called for us to join him in his RV. " I'll get another cup boiling for her," he yelled unnecessarily to make sure we heard him from the kitchen not too far from us. He grabbed a cup noodles from the top drawer and laid down a disfigured metallic kettle to boil the water and as always he exclaimed," Farewell and rest in peace, water. You will be mist." I found it hilarious the first time but it turned into a everyday chore to even listen to him say that while cooking almost every meal.

   While Enol came back with two earlier made cups, he gave his to Sole. He sat down for awhile before the water started boiling. He got out his trusty note and pen and scribbled on it. " Enol wants to be a famous writer one day. So whenever he's free, he writes whatever comes to mind." I explained after Sole stared confused at Enol. "What are you writing about? Are you almost done?" Sole seemed intrigued at the serious atmosphere Enol was creating throughout the room. She wasn't expecting Enol to be serious about much and, to be honest, she's right. Partly at least. Enol shook his head, and uttered that he was halfway done. "I'm actually writing about us and of course, you as well. I'll tell you when I'm done so you can read it. That is if you're literate. I'm sure you're a smart girl, aren't you?" He replied.  "Uhm, Enol, the water." Enol stared blankly at me but he realised where I was coming from and rushed to the kitchen screaming," NO! I BURNT THE WATER!"