✎ eternities:william_campbell [tempest]

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======William Campbell / Small Comforts======

William's B&B was a beautiful one. In the time that he had been away on the island  --- longer than anyone could have expected  --- it had grown only more so, the honeysuckle and roses that covered the lintel had only grown larger, the blooms of early summer looking radiant in the fading glow of the sunlight, that particular luminosity of the hour just before the sun slips below the horizon.
 
The veteran's legs were like lead as he stumbled forwards, feeling the warm weight of his wife against his side as the little family tripped forwards. William felt the rusted metal of the doorknob against his weathered palm and he all but sagged into the hallway that made up the house he and his family had lived in. Mary smiled in soft content, her golden curls glimmering in the day's dying light and her gentle eyes seeming even more so as they roamed the dusty hallway of what had once been their home.
 
The former soldier settled into the familiar armchair, feeling it creak strangely as he did, his wife flicking on the lights and casting shadows across the familiar room. The family was home, home and safe, home and content, home and back to the way things were.
 
For sure.
 
-----
 
Y’see that B&B? Cute, huh? Little flowers growing up all over the place, little lights glowing in the window. The sort of place you’d call “cosy” or “quaint”. 
 
Not so fast. 
 
See, it ain’t all it’s cracked up to be. There’s some who’ve been, shall we say, a little //less// than satisfied. And there’s some people., well. Let’s just say it doesn’t //do// to cross them. The sorts of people who have gasoline, and matches, and a little too much fondness for flames. 
 
Now that’s what I call a burning review.
 
----- 
 
The veteran sat by the hospital bed, his sad sea-coloured eyes gazing at nothing in particular as he wife lay beside him, her breathing soft and shallow, her once-soft skin marred by vicious red burns. He’d called Lizzie and received no answer - the hotel in Peru where she’d been staying had said she’d moved on the the next place, the spirit of adventure - or, perhaps, Adventure - calling her ever onwards. He hoped he’d be able to speak to her - that she would be able to get home to see her mother, in case she ---
 
‘Mr Campbell.’ 
 
The voice was one he hadn’t heard for years, the susurrus of sweet with through soft branches, the sound of birdsong and the gentle lilt of a love song. 
 
He looked up and saw a familiar figure sitting opposite him, eating an apple as red as her mouth. The soldier looked at the story and didn’t quite know what to say, or do, but her gentle tones were able to fill the gaps in the conversation. 
 
‘I was sorry to hear about your wife,’ she said softly. ‘I couldn’t… it was one of my kind, but alone… I couldn’t prevent it.’
 
The veteran looked down at his hands. His resolve began to coalesce inside him, before he looked up at the woman and said: ‘Then don’t do it alone. Make me like you, I can… I can help to stop this sort of thing.’ 
 
The mysterious woman smiled. 
 
‘Very well,’ she allowed him. ‘Become a story, become a good one. Bring comfort to those like your wife, and your daughter… though you know that you won’t be able to be with them as you were, you will be something other, something else.;
 
‘I know.’
 
‘Very well.’
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