Journey

Like every morning, gold piercing sunshine poured into Phil's eyes acting as an early morning alarm clock. Where was he? Phil certainly had no idea. He was just a homeless young man who embarked on long and pointless journeys searching for only a place to stay and something to eat. His appearance was a slightly mysterious look. Behind his rugged and bushy beard, he might have been described as handsome. He carried only his shabby old clothes, and a small rusty dagger, which he had possessed ever since he was a child. Phil had never had any real parents. He had lived with a poor and humble man until the age of eleven, when he was killed in combat fighting for England's prestigious army. Amazingly Phil had never known his name and just called him father; however he was aware that they were not related.

Phil finally registered where he was. He was lying on soft green grass outside a pub in the heart of a small but busy town known as Larenstein. This town located in North Scotland was a beautiful sight in summer time, with colourful trees and flowers. The sun was gradually rising above the surrounding hills giving the town a golden heavenly look. A few of the locals were beginning to emerge from their wooden built homes. The majority were tending to their gardens. Phil's stomach churned and he knew it was time to earn money to pay for food. He had only been in this town for three days and he had already made a few friends at the local pub. They would surely give him some work for money and food. The pub was the most important building in the town. Its image was slightly shabby, and old, however, it possessed a quality of warmth and sincerity; a quality unusually provided by a non-living asset. The town meetings and important events usually took place inside the pub, as a town hall was not needed for a town with such a small population. As Phil wandered over to the residential areas of Larensteinat, he passed several apple and orange trees and decided to have an early breakfast. By the time Phil reached one of his newly met friend's house, the sun had risen clearly over the surrounding mountains, and a warm summers tingle was spreading through Phil's body. The Letter box read "Mackenzie Family". As Phil approached the door, he registered the entire estate, decorated with pink and white flowers. Phil finally came to the conclusion that his new met friend was quite well off. He knocked on the door several times. Finally