Finding Allison (A Niall Horan Short Story)

Prologue

The snow was sticking to the ground, growing in thickness every second. The sound of boots crunching against the snow echoed through the streets of London like a soft chime. It was a soundtrack to the bustling noise of the city, along with the grumble of annoyed civilians, trying to get to work.

            In the midst of the hustle and the bustle, in the chaos of the first snow, a single boy was doing something he had been waiting for the right moment to do. His hand was clutched around a single envelope; worn from being reread so many times. The seal was broken and there was a small stain on the paper. To some the cranberry stain could like a rushed attempt at a heart, but after hours and hours staring at the envelope, it’s clear it was a mistake.

            He was on the streets, preparing to release to the letter, letting it fly away and become apart of the city, waiting for someone to find it, and that was no mistake. As he took a deep breath and let it flutter in the wind, a weight was lifted off his shoulders. He was free. He no longer carried the burden that was love; the burden that was Allison Murphy.

            He went in the opposite direction of the letter, wanting distance from it, and at the same time wanting to run back towards it before it could be found. It wasn’t truly lost, but it would still be found never less.

            At the same time the boy was rethinking his decision another boy, only a few blocks away picked up the letter and looked at it, inspecting the ivory rectangle as the first boy once had. He flipped it over in hands, confused at its broken seal, and at the same time intrigued. He debated whether or not he should leave it in the snow to decompose, the water seeping into the paper, ruining whatever the envelope was a vessel for, but he stopped and thought.

            There wasn’t a return address, or anything that could give anyone else a claim to the trash on the street. It was just a folded piece of paper, that was what the boy told his self, making an excuse for curiosity getting the best of him. He was about to read it right then and there, the crowds slowly moving around him as his face hung down, staring at the old thing he had found on his way back to his flat.

            He could’ve opened it right then and there, making the whole process move quicker, but he slipped it into his jacket pocket, bringing his eyes back up to normal level and moving forward. The paper was now his, it was no longer in a confused state o lost as well as found. It was simply found. Found by a boy who was blind to the hate in the world. Blind to love.

           

            A boy blind to loss.

Authors Note - I feel terrible about leaving so suddendly, but if it weren't for Melanie this account would've been left unsupervised, and you would have no idea what was going on. I'm going to tell you why I'm leaving now, but I want you to know that I'm ok :)  I'll be communicating to you through authors note on all my stories, so even if you don't read one, when Melanie updates for me just go ahead and read the A/N at the end. Because I love the comments you give me I'm having Melanie copy and paste them onto a word document and send it to me so I can them, so please don't become a ghost reader. 

I know this can't make up for leaving, but I'm starting the short story, and it's not coming soon or anything. I love you guys, remember that.

<3

Luce