Harry's Short Story: The Possible Home

Harry sat on the small cot that he claimed. He shared a house with a couple of guys that were hardly home. Harry was hardly home, but when he was, he was able to see the gloom in his life. The dirt floor, the solemn gray stone walls, and the lack of possessions, he didn’t exactly live a life of luxury. When he was with Maribelle, he didn’t think about the lack of money. All he thought about were the good things in life. The letters his mother sent him, the clothes he was able to afford, and the love that the beautiful young girl was willing to give to him. He counted his blessing every day, because he was lucky enough to know a girl like Maribelle. She could’ve stuck with Niall. She didn’t even have to meet him, but something brought the

He knew woman that could get them up North without a high risk of being caught. He was going to find a priest up North that would marry the both of them. He couldn’t help but imagine his beautiful princess dressed up, and promising herself to him. Once Harry was finished daydreaming, he went out onto the town. He had his daily sack with him. He always brought the Dunlap bag to work with him, because when he was able to have down time he would occupy his mind with what was inside. Inside of his bag was a leather journal that he kept daily writings to himself, a pipe for tobacco, and some cards that Louis found entertaining. Harry would also buy some fruit from the local stands outside of his house. The walk to the Ragsdale house was hot, and stuffy. The morning sun was already beating down on the back of his neck. His hair tied up in a hair bun was starting grease up due to the sweat. The dirt path wore at his raggedy shoes until he was forced to sow more leather onto the holes. The lush green scenery was beautiful, and Harry loved this part of his day. His morning walks were either silent of filled with his soft musical

“Are you sure you still want to do this? I don’t want you to hurt her.” Niall whispers quietly so the guards don’t hear.
“I love her. We love each other. We are going to do this.”
“She doesn’t know how hard it is going to be.”
“As long as we are together we can make any place feel like home.”
“The boss is coming with his new toy.” Niall hisses. Harry turns to see Zayn standing next to his boss. The look on Zayn’s face was almost sickening. He had this evil smirk that showed the true demon he was on the inside. Zayn made eye contact with Harry, and that is all it took.
“What is his name?” Zayn asks Mr. Ragsdale, and Harry has to stop himself from back talking the newest heir.
“Mr. Styles. Why do you ask?” Mr. Ragsdale didn’t have a favorite slave, but he did like Harry a bit more than the others. Harry was a hard worker, and he knew when to keep his mouth shut.
“He seems a bit too pretty to be a slave.” Zayn laughs maniacally.
Zayn strutted over to Harry. His hand grabbed tightly onto Harry’s jaw. His dark eyes stared into the depths of Harry’s eyes, and Harry was terrified. What was this guy going to do to