a preview of draft zero

As a distant crash of waves broke upon the shore, Max stood at an odd angle in the doorway. He had carefully manoeuvred the three rough cut stone steps in the darkness, taking more than twice the time that the daylight hours required. The steps had proved even more cumbersome due to the oversized cardboard box he held close to his chest. He had gripped the box so tightly that the edges were beginning to contort; creating additional seams to those that had been in the original design. The box swayed a little almost toppling Max over where a railing had once been.

Max was feeling a little smug. He had half expected a less than friendly welcome committee. His shoes had reverberated hollow thumps around the narrow street as he’d made his way home, and although he was mindful to use lighter footsteps as he passed the Sanderson´s window, (knowing they slept in the front bedroom and seeing that the light was out) he knew he would have been noticed by many a prying eye. But the heavy door sat dark, silent and as broody as the cold winds that cut through his sweat soaked shirt. Lily would be so happy with him this time. “Stop talking, start doing” was her irritatingly precise mantra. He could hear her words now and they made him smile. He couldn’t wait to see her face. Plus, it would help make up for the fact he hadn’t come in again last night.