John stared at the ceiling from his bed. His lips and hands were trembling.
“Did I actually do something wrong? Were they mad at me?”
John bit his lip and got up. He looked out at the window. It was all dark. Owls were hooting and werewolves were howling from afar. The moon was barely visible and the night sky was robbed of its stars. John thought back of his first night here. The night he slept on the road against the cold hard walls. He remembered vividly the coldness that ran through his spine, causing him to shiver in his tattered shirt. He reminisced the thoughts that went through his mind as he laid down on the ground. He thought it was all over, that he wouldn’t be accepted into the house, and probably have died on the streets and have an unmarked grave. He thought he would be reunited with his parents up in the sky. Crystal droplets uncontrollably rolled down his cheek. He just stared and stared at the scenery outside his window. The wind was blowing quite strong and leaves were flying all over.
John slid open his window and closed his eyes to enjoy the chilly breeze. The wind blew against his face and dried the tears. He smiled as he heard the sounds that rang all over. The chatter of the maids in the room next door, the sound of the leaves and branches as they were blown by the wind, the howling and hooting, the crickets chirp, the sound of peace and tranquillity. He whistled a tune and his face was beaming with happiness.