{â}-; Soft, silent tapping could be heard from within the damp cellar. Light shone in through the cracks in the wooden door that was above the stone stairs. A sigh escaped the childâs cracked and pale lips. Chocolate eyes scanned the place. Luka called this place home once. He didnât remember it looking so⊠broken. Where was his brother? Where was everyone? He expected dead bodies still across the streets and houses to be charred. But all that was left was dirt and decaying homes. Were they homes? No. No one lived there, at least thatâs what Luka came to realize.
       Looking at the dripping water, he shivered, the early morning still foggy and chilly from the nightâs rain. It was rough for the small thing. He was curled in the corner, looking like a deer caught out during hunting season. His eyes were wide and filled with emotions only he could fathom. A childâs fear was something lost to adults, forgotten by teens, and unknown to newborns.
       Luka slowly stood when he saw just the slightest bit of sun, making his way out of the cellar. âHello?â He called, his accent lost, hidden when his voice cracked. The boy had said this all yesterday when he woke up in a field of dead flowers. He was very upset when he realized the bluebells were dead. Like he was supposed to be. Hannah had killed him. Hannah promised him his greatest wish and in return was his soul.
       Again, he glanced around, running down the dirt path that he used to be teased on. He ran into one of the structures that looked sturdy enough to hold him. He glanced around for a third time, instincts telling him to be wary of outsiders. But of course, the child would fall prey to anyone. His stomach growled and he was starving. He was always starving.
       But still, Luka silently hoped for someone to come, even with the dangers they could possess.
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