The Boy In The Photograph

Modesty sat in the comfort of her home starring at the only photo in her house. It was, a family photo, which was funny because she never really had one. She wondered how they looked so...happy. She was only about six in the picture, and was smiling happily at the camera. Her mother sat on her left, a small wistful smile playing on her lips, Her eyes were swimming with memories, with her long silver hair, pointed ears and slender shape she looked as though she was from a different world. Modesty's father sat to her right, he had shaggy black hair and tried dark eyes, but his smile was deep and kind. He looked like someone who would brighten someone's day just by walking into the room. Then there was the boy. A few years older than Modestly would have been at the time and s under a withering old tree, maybe twelve. Modesty narrowed her eyes to get a better look at him. He had hair as black as obsidian that tufted in every direction. His eyes were dark as coal and even frozen in the picture, they seemed to spark read like embers. He wore a black hoodie and matching black pants with fire red lines running down the sides. The strangest thing about him? Modesty had looked at this photo many times before and he had never been in it.