Alastair (ManxMan)

Since Bromance is ending its time to put this up. Enjoy this my little chocolate dildos x3! (I'm actually into folklore so that's half of the reason I wrote this. XD)

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The sound of the TV could be heard from behind the door, but I didn't need that to know my parents were home. Their Hondas were parked out front, also I received a text telling me to come straight him after my classes were finished. There was only one reason behind this:

Family Holiday.

Maybe since Christmas was just a week and a half away or the college I attended closed the last lessons for the week until after new years. It was both a good and bad thing. Meant I could rest not having to focus on studies or test, sleep when I want, and eat when I felt like it. But since the family was going to show up meant a lot of kissing ass I had to do.

As soon as I walked through the door I tried hauling ass up the stairs. "Hi mom hi dad." I greeted to keep them distracted. Fail.

When my foot made friends with the third step my father called out to me. "Aades come here." Groaning, I was dragged back to floor level. I didn't try to hide my annoyance. My feet scraping the carpet as I refused to pick up my feet properly. My shoulders slumped in sadness and noises of a whale giving birth escaped my throat.

"Don't." My mother warned. Her hazel eyes snatching away from the TV to threaten me. As if, all she did was sit there knitting away at some present she would present to me later.

The frowned stained my face. My father's bald head smiling at me for mockery. "Your grand father is down stairs. Go say hi."

"But!" The groaning continued. This time I held the note out as if I had the lungs of a singer.

"He's in the basement cleaning up his stuff." My father pointed. His eyes never once finding mines but instead the TV. What lovely parents!

I bitched and moaned, stomped and growled, roared with anger and gargled on the shit of life that the world gave me while making my way to the door by the kitchen. A waft of old hit me. Moth balls and dust. It smelt clean yet weird at the same time. It was as if it rained and damped out wood down here.

I scaled the steps finding my grandpa looking through the ton of boxes that were here. They lined the walls of the basement. Some open and in the middle of the floor, some on his sleeping area with things dumped out of it.

"Gramps." He flinched turning to me. A sparkle in his eyes when he found my face. Not waiting he pulled me into an embrace crumbling my bones. Man this old guy was strong!

His wooden yet mint smell ruffled at the hairs of my nose. Taking a whiff, I crinkled my nose, him taking a step back meeting the expression. "Sorry, haven't showered yet. Come over her lad." His voice vibrated in his throat, the huskiness now weakened as he grew older. Only the slight bass remained in his voice.

I followed my slumped over grandpa, a long faded blue robe on, its two curtains not shut revealing his baggy two piece checkered pajamas mom bought him last Christmas. A part of his head was bald like dads. The middle shined when the light hit it but the sides covered in his gray fur he calls hair.

"I've got something for you..." He mumbled. His finger finding his tan chin. Blinking, I stared waiting as he shuffles around the room. His house shoes scuffing at the ground. "Ah!" Gramps knocked over a box that laid on top of a rectangle object. Even though it was wrapped in old floral paper I could tell it was a book. It was always a book. That's all he ever got me. A book or a random object he claimed to be an artifact. "Here it is. Nearly misplaced this like last thanksgivings turkey." He chuckled to himself picking it up.

"Can't we wait til Christmas? Then I can-"

"No, this cannot wait. I've finally found that thing I told you about." His face was inches from mines. Wrinkles aligning his face more when he winked at me. I don't know why he's trying to be discrete, I know its a book. He smiled widely, his dentures not in his mouth.

"The book-"

"No! That thing!" He laughed like a maniac, his elbow hitting me in the shoulder as he continued to wink in secret.

"Pops, its just me and you down here. No One's going to hear."

"You don't know that lad. Now go upstairs and open your present. Don't tell your dad about this. Its between me and you." He winked again, his elbow jabbing me constantly. This old coot.

"Okay gramps. Thanks for the bo- I mean present." I chuckled playing along. He nodded shooing me upstairs. I clenched the book to me hauling ass up the stairs once again.

"He's fine down there?" Dad asked. His back turned to me as I was now half way up. I continued.

"Yup!"

Destination reached!

I flopped on my back throwing my bag across the room. The book landed on the bed along side me. My body rocked over as I forced myself to sit up.

"Basket!" I yelled when my shoe that was kicked off landed in my opened closet. It wasn't the cleanest room, but it wasn't the dirtiest. Yeah stuff was here and there but you could see the carpet! And my computer desk was clear! That's abnormal!

My eyes scanned the bookshelf next to the desk. A collection of folklore stories filled almost every shelf. From knock offs of folklore and folktale's in 1846 to today's adaptations of fairy tales like Cinderella, Beauty and the Beast, Snow White and many more. The collections grew far. I even got postcards tapped to the ending of the books from places these legends were suppose to take place.

But that's when I was a kid. I wasn't all into folklore like I was. They're just stories but when I was little I believed them to be real. Ha, funny how we change isn't it?

I grabbed the present unwrapping the doing. My fingers grazed the compressed leather. The black leather stitched to the book in gold thread. The width of the book stretched my lap, the height just a bit shorter of the width.

When I pulled the book over my eyes scaled the title. The print seemed to be burned into the book but in gold. It shined over the dullness of the leather.

Alastair.

The A dragged underneath the title and curled at the end of the R and stopped.

I dragged my fingers over the title, the word escaping my lips to hear how it sounded out loud. "Alastair.."

As if my room wasn't already dim with the curtains being drawn, darkness covered my room. A exhale of breath echoed my room, the voice low and demonic.

Cocking my head to the side I looked around my room blinking. The shadowiness dragged back into the corners. My window flew open, wind gushing in knocking the curtains back leaving nothing but sunlight to scale the aspects of my room.

"....." Quickly I sat the book down and headed to the window. I shut the double door window locking it back.

This time, I let the curtains drape open. The sun hit the book and so did my eyes. The title gleamed unnatural under the light. The black leather itself seemed to change. The threads dancing behind the light.

Hesitantly, my body trailed to the book. My fingers grasping at it. Wind blew between my grip.

It was as if the book was breathing.

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There's probably some typos somewhere in there but come on, I'm the typo King. You can't stop that Lol.

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