Some years ago, when I was still young enough to be regarded as a child yet still had the responsibilities of an adult, I took leave from the Clocktower Institute of Thaumaturgy.
This was not a conscious decision, but one of necessity. I found myself injured, crippled in a manner that would render me incapable of continuing my education for my last year of study. The remained of the money I used to pay for my years of study was redirected to surgery after surgery, in hopes that I could somehow reverse my injury and return to the Institute and finish out my last year.
But in the end, the only thing I was greeted by was the overwhelming weight of disappointment.
It is the immensity of it, I believe. The immensity of knowing that everything you wished to accomplish could be halted so easily due to the frailty of the human body. The crushing darkness of having a dream that could never be fulfilled that leaves you bitter and unsatisfied for the remainder of your years.
Forgive me, I did not intend to make this a pity party. My feelings on a broken dream have nothing to do with the story I’m trying to tell here. I do not claim to be any sort of literary expert – I simply wish to tell the story of what happened after all this.
It’s when I stopped my impromptu self hatred that I found myself in need of lodgings. After living in the Institute’s dormitories for so long, I knew not where I could find a place to stay abruptly with the remaining amount of money I had. I couldn’t bear to return to my parents, as they were against my attending the Clocktower to begin with.
That was how I met the strangest little man. Searching the local paper for a place to stay while at a small little diner I had fallen in love with, I found myself joined by the strangest man.
“You strike me as a Clocktower student,” was the greeting. A rich voice with hints of an accent that spoke of Northern England spoke to be from behind my paper. Not exactly a questioning tone, but one of amusement. “You don’t often see your type roaming around town so freely. May I ask what you are doing here, my dear?”
I initially intended to ignore this man, but I was also curious. One cannot tell what a student of the Clocktower looks like at first glance, but this man could spot me even without seeing my face. I lowered the paper and…
…Found myself greeted by the most unusual individual I’ve ever laid eyes up.
