The Slate Of Vale

I hate them, I hate them. I would drive a knife through their hearts if they weren't my brothers. Matt wept sadly as he walked to the kitchen to get a broom and his cleaning towel.

*******

The cleaning lasted till late evening, when the birds had retired to their nest and the melody of the cricket, a beat to the night's owl that sang on the tree, outside the compound.

Matt sat down on the table to have his supper; he was very hungry, exhausted and sad. His mum was out for the week and won't return until the week runs out. Matt was happy she won't be returning anytime soon because, her hatred towards him was fifty times that of his brothers. The same question always popped into his mind whenever he thinks of his family, is Kyle and Tim actually my brothers, is mom really mom and is dad really dad? If they really were my family, why do they hate me so much? Was it part of being a gray born? Those questions were the puzzle of his heart, his unanswered question.

Cold ran down his spin and at that moment he remembered the ash in the hearth. He hadn't taken it away.

Matt took a long sip from the milk on the table and stood up to get a broom. He bent down and swept all the ashes into the waste bin. Without much ado, he carried the ash to the recycling bin where he would dispose it.

Wait, what is that color?

Matt leaned closer for a proper view.

"So you weren't consumed by the fire eh?" he smiled and picked up the envelope from the ash. It was still the same, not even the air around it was consumed by fire.
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"Strange, but am happy to have you back, and it's good to know my brothers can't take you away from me". He slots the envelope into his pocket, exactly the same position where the house documents were.

For some odd reasons he couldn't fathom, he thought his happiness were back again, not like a spark this time, but like a storm.