@corruptionwithinâ // Connor Blackwood
The day had been a particularly unproductive one. After spending the early morning feeding and caring for the animals and walking the fields, Ronan had high hopes for a day of dreaming ahead. However, there was a problem Ronan ran into rather quickly: the energy required to dream a place like new Cabeswater would take the help of Cabeswater itself. And seeing as the place had been unmade, it wasnât exactly in a position to do much. So he spent an afternoon in frustration, dreaming bits and pieces of the whole, never as perfect as he wanted them to be.
Ronan was in his boxing gear when the doorbell rang. He was ready to pummel the shit out of a punching bag or his trainer at the gym. What he was not ready for was the doorbell to ring. No one ever came to the Barns, no one ever rang the doorbell. Everyone called first. Or Texted. Or just walked in and shouted his name. He was somewhat surprised the doorbell actually worked, considering how little it was used.
Ronan opened the door, gym bag slung over his shoulder in preparation to leave. The boy he found standing on his porch was unfamiliar. Aglionby without a doubt, Matthewâs age, but no one he recognized. He had never paid attention to who Matthew had befriended or anyone else too far beyond his circle of friends. âHeâs not here,â he grunted, stepping out the door and locking it behind him.
