If there was any place to take refuge away from an enemy, it was surely Alaska. Allan had found himself there when he escaped from the people who had kept him segregated in a cave for many years, unable to see what lay beyond walls, each of them nearly two meters thick. He walked for a long time, risking losing a few limbs to the cold when he reached a not very crowded town near the coast to the north. His skill had saved him many times, and he never failed to use it to extricate himself from situations. 259Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡvR4EK9J143
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He lived in that bungalow for a long time, living in solitude and almost bordering on the brink of insanity, it did not happen only because he employed his time and efforts in something productive. Being alone had disadvantages but also many advantages. 259Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡiO3DDD3nCK
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A figure was lying on an old table made of pine wood, or perhaps olive wood? Allan did not know. It certainly was not what he most wanted to find out considering the sorry state he found himself in. He was drunk off his ass, sprawled on the table after a terrible hangover and with a mad desire to rest his forehead on something very cold. The remnants of what he had been drinking were on the floor, along with several other things such as the pizza box and flying papers that had no definite place to be. Not that he had anything better to do or anyone to argue with than all the mess he had generated in the room. He was always alone and never talked to anyone, would he have to worry about that "borrowed" house?259Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡDUrpe2YjJS
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Cans, beer bottles, liquor, and alcohol of various kinds were just some of the things lying on the woody floor at that moment, in a dismantled place he had found completely at random and had occupied indefinitely for at least a year. He would have challenged anyone to question the migraine and stomach ache he had, deep nausea aside. The boy scratched his head, tousling his raven hair, a gesture that had caused him a sensation even worse than a punch to the face. He cursed himself more than once for choosing to drink so much. He had long wanted to find a secluded place where he could cultivate the talent he had for writing. In between bungalows he had managed to get far enough away to get better at using his talent and look for an escape plan that would get him as far away as possible. 259Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡwU3BRloAVn
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That talent that Allan carried from birth had increased with the years, in which that young man had devoted that life of his to forging it. Allan loved to write, especially in his own hand. In those days it was rare that someone still preferred manual labor, the dear old pen, to a new generation pc. But Allan was like that!259Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡ3aAtYNzVuG
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He preferred to hear the rustle of the paper as he turned the pages. The rubbing of the pen on the paper, accompanied by the hand of the writer who, addicted to the smell of ink, gave life to everything he desired through the delicate use of words, with mastery.259Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡR4QTY5DIUk
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The word Alaska could say a lot. It was a distinctly cold place and Allan hated the low temperatures, but it was also isolated, with no distractions, social interactions, or noisy neighbors. He was fine. Yes, very fine. He thought about it sometimes, though, how different everything would be, how many sources of inspiration he would find if he talked to mere passersby walking the streets. He snorted at the very thought. He put one of the books he had written back on the shelf of the huge bookcase he had found in that remote bungalow. He had read several works there, and without even thinking twice he started writing almost without realizing it. From one book it became two, from two three and so on until the sum of no less than fifty-seven books, taking ever different inclinations ranging from romantic stories to fiction, fantasy, science fiction, mystery, Horror, thrillers, detective stories and so on. He had a lot of time on his hands, about all the rest of his life. 259Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡztWhZ2HzLx
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Perhaps he could not talk to people for inspiration, but Allan had thought of an alternative. The windows of the bungalow were closed, of course, with wooden boards. But one of them held a small slit from which the boy spent hours watching people and their attitudes. Not that they were for too long outside given the temperatures there, but they were long enough to inspire. It was not uncommon for someone to walk past the window, just where the stories of them could be heard perfectly and which Allan would then jot down in a little notebook. No one could think that inside one of the uninhabited bungalows, there might be a man with thick shaggy hair, who may not have combed his hair in years and who lived immersed in stacks of books, not just his own.259Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡiC2lEiyt4H
The bungalow was presented with only one floor. On the side opposite the front door was a small wooden table placed in front of a sofa and armchair in a red tending to burgundy. Under the coffee table a red and brownish carpet with a pattern of triangles, probably handmade, made that environment more like home. 259Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡ6ocZES0XaH
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When Allan found the place it was perhaps less full of drinks, but it still retained its beauty. The wall table, just opposite, was filled with papers and freshly marked books. A silhouette, among those books, was the perfect representation of the boy's body. Yet Allan had a bed in that place. His bed was up high on a small loft in the other half of the bungalow, where underneath was everything he needed to cook. The boy had to say that he had settled in well.259Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡpq606XsQQ9
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He was messy, but at least he looked great.259Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡnnta6h8pvd
He got a sudden sharp migraine as if to remind him that maybe he was not so well. He took an aspirin, drinking soon after from a glass spiked in the rim and soon to be replaced. As usual he took his fountain pen and the usual small notebook, then ran to the crack in the window in front of the couch. Strangely enough, no one was there that morning. That day had started out just for the worst. He imprecated mentally. 259Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡ7GaRVckIJx
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The boy suddenly jerked. He heard like a noise and thinking it was a new source of inspiration he put his ear in front of the window to listen and look for new material for a story. There was not a soul in it. But he hadn't dreamed it, had he? Had the hangover mixed with loneliness affected his sanity? He wouldn't have been surprised.259Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡnIRmIBS9wt
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He already imagined himself arguing with a small table or a glass, given the already critical situation. Suddenly the boy got his feet back on the ground; he had to distinguish fantasy from reality. He turned toward the slot jolting to see two eyes pointing at him. An ice-cold gaze had seen him inside that place and looked at him so badly, so icy, that he had gotten a good scare. He clenched his hand on the pen as if expecting something terrible. Those eyes were sharper than a shard of glass.259Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡmnSjpU7n9I
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It was not the look of a normal person and that was what terrified him.259Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡHKeZ6EwJhH
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It was more of a 'Them' look.259Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡptgacK2qMn
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With a feline snap Allan leapt backwards with his heart racing, not losing sight for a moment of those ice-colored eyes that would have even paled before them.259Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡiwhxTxeWHj
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A crimson rivulet dripped near one of those frozen shards. It was then that the boy sensed.259Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡU8F3L2IrkM
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<Blood?> He thought.
<This person is hurt. What should i do? Should i open or... >
Suddenly yet another noise forced both Allan and that person to turn around, to identify the cause of that metallic sound, loud enough that it seemed to have been made on purpose, to be noticed.259Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡ0lV7brNuDL
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The Ravenclaw could no longer understand what was happening outside his Bungalow. He saw the two eyes outside the slit move away until they disappeared, then there remained only a succession of movements from unknown sources.259Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡuHPCARnEBq
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The boy approached the slit again to see if that girl was still unharmed. A horrifying scene appeared before Allan who, motionless, stood by and watched. The girl with medium-long platinum hair, so light that it looked white, was on the ground. In front of her body, which seemed down only to catch its breath, was the helpless body of a man probably twice her size.259Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡ8f3ZqYFHjR
<Did that girl manage to land such a closet?> thought the boy who barely swallowed. Ice Eyes was out of breath. So he had begun to call her Allan in his mind. She touched the back of her head, revealing that it was totally smeared with blood. Her head must have been spinning so much, Allan believed, because he saw her raise her blue irises to the sky before passing out under the raven's eyes on the icy mantle.
Allan must have been out of his mind! There was no other reason why he was about to open that door he had not opened wide in quite some time just to rescue an injury. His head and common sense told him not to, but he was still intent on saving that person in distress. So much time to think and he still could not learn his lesson. But what could he do about it? He was stronger than he was!259Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡTgfDaSwSKf
He took the girl in his arms and she was surprisingly light. He carried her inside the bungalow before sealing the door tightly, in case someone decided to enter to check where the stranger had gone. If the guy who was napping in the snow woke up and looked for her it would be pain for both Allan and her, he was convinced.259Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡijAnx8VLKm
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He laid her down on the red couch, putting a pillow under her head, took fountain pen and notebook and wrote there. The infinite ink of a pen that might have seemed magical was in the young man's possession, linked to his talent. Everything Allan desired he wrote down. Every object he needed was described on paper in minute detail, which is why one had to have vast knowledge to use it, which Allan had accumulated in all his reading. Everything that the pen wrote down in detail became real. It did not change people's fates or their futures; rather, it was able to create whatever it wished. The boy described a first aid kit that appeared to him after moments of quick writing. The boy's inner strength was faltering but he had a lot of it in his possession; he had been writing a lot recently. The ink came out of the paper to wander around him, like a ribbon swirling in the air it rejoined itself from side to side, taking the shape of that box as well as the colors described by the writer. The boy placed the objects on the small table beside it to devote himself to caring for that person with a complexion so white it looked like porcelain. He looked as if he might break at any moment. How could anyone try to harm such a creature? She had preferred not to remove that person's white coat; she did not want to be more hospitable than she had to be. Once she felt better she would have to leave as she came. 259Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡ0sWLVMu2Zz
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When the dressing was finished, the boy sat down on the small chair, remaining spellbound looking at that figure. With a snort he closed his eyes, only to open them again and stare at the sleeping figure who seemed to have had no peace for long. It reminded him a little of himself. He wondered who he was, where he came from, and why he had that bleeding wound. He had a thousand questions and no answers. <Sure she is really beautiful.> 259Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡdYrzbfYvOt
He thought as he gazed at those sweet features. He shook his head mentally punching himself. What was she thinking? She was a stranger! An intruder who had seen him. For all he knew she could be one of Them. At that thought the boy thinned his eyes into two menacing slits. He took the fountain pen in his hand and with a few words described what would become a rifle. if ever the girl of turned out to be one of Them, Allan would not hesitate even a second in pulling the trigger. Although at that moment that rare beauty seemed to have bewitched him.259Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡEXnroYrhWa
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