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Posted: Sat Apr 06, 2013 10:46 am
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Posted: Sat Apr 06, 2013 11:14 am
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Posted: Sat Apr 06, 2013 11:24 am
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Posted: Sat Apr 06, 2013 11:35 am
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Posted: Sat Apr 06, 2013 5:54 pm
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Posted: Sat Apr 06, 2013 7:40 pm
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Posted: Sat Apr 06, 2013 8:22 pm
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Posted: Sat Apr 06, 2013 8:54 pm
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Posted: Sat Apr 06, 2013 9:32 pm
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Posted: Sat Apr 06, 2013 10:09 pm
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Posted: Sat Apr 06, 2013 11:31 pm
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Posted: Sun Apr 07, 2013 9:18 am
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Posted: Fri Sep 27, 2013 5:41 pm
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The brightening sky hinted at the oddest possibility of afternoon sunshine, a pleasant break from the dull drizzle. It was also a pleasant distraction from the gloom that hung over Catharine as she wove her way through the crowds of tourist and average working folks. She got a few odd looks, 11 years old's rarely wonder alone, but she knew she couldn't have gone with her mother. Her mother would have been no more pleased to have her out than the Coppers who was at last glance still following her causally from the station. Another glance over her should confirmed that the bloke was still there. Thankfully the note in her hand kept her from look too suspicious.
Neither of her mother, nor the Policeman, were going to stop her. No matter how often her mother's warnings and words whirled around her head, she wouldn't stop. She was so close. So close to understanding what made her special. For years her mother had told her that she'd explain, but hadn't. Looking back Catharine figured that if it hadn't been for the owl two months ago, she'd have never been told. Not that it would have taken her long to figure it out. A few months, maybe? A year at most if she didn't put in all her effort. Now she didn't have time to puzzle over the pieces, to put them together or for her mother to pick up her nerves to tell her. Which explained why she was skipping school today. Not that she wouldn't have skipped it normally, but today was a specific reason. Today was the day her mother's special seller came to the shop. He'd always been a weird bloke, dressed oddly with his odd bag and heavy coat. He came regularly though, every month around the same week. Every month on the third week, he'd leave her mother a load of new items and his address. Every third week, their flat smelled of burned paper. Before she'd have taken no interest in him or his oddity. Odd didn't mean interesting, but today...today he'd said something. She had overheard it. Now she was following him.
A very simple matter. Right up in till a few minutes ago. She had stepped out of the Underground to find him gone. Thankfully, she had snatched the paper with his address or at least she thought it was his address. Sadly Google maps hadn't been much help, neither had mapquest or any other search engine. This made a little sense, people who use owls for post weren't probably given to having their places up in the ads. Still there should have been some hints of it. Pausing at a corner, she glanced down at her sheet.
Quote: Leaky Cauldron Pub Room 15 Charing Cross Road
It was something which was, in her opinion, better than nothing. That was all that kept her moving, that and the chance the sun was going to come out. Which was definitely better than searching in the rain. She looked up at the street sign, then turned on to Charing Cross Road.
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Intellectual Shapeshifter
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Posted: Fri Sep 27, 2013 6:40 pm
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