It was late.
And dark. Very dark.
The wind howled, viciously tearing leaves off desperate branches..
He clambered onto the creaky chair and pressed his nose against the foggy window pane, his pale hands gripping the wet glass, tracing the drops as they streamed down, reflecting the salty tears trickling from his own haunted eyes.
The rain crashed down in forceful torrents,
splattering on the roof of the cluttered room he once called home.
The boy scoured the street which was lit bronze with dim lamposts, searching for someone, anyone. His golden- brown eyes drifted up to the cloudy sky, void of any stars. Back down on Earth, it was the same, not a single soul in sight.
‘Who will help me’ he croaked, a painful lump in his throat.
‘Who?’ he slumped down the wall exhausted, burying his face in his small hands.