Angol
Cranston Cleversey's body was riddled with strings that only he could see. One string for every connection he'd ever made. They differed in strength, size, and material make-up.
Twenty years had passed since Cranston hid himself away in an old Victorian home on the edge of the ocean. The onslaught of bad connections over the years had soured his disposition. Doors remained locked. Windows stayed covered. He wanted to be left alone.
But old age eventually crept into his bones. He perceived these changes as unwelcome strings wrapping around him, binding up his joints when he bent, strangling his organs when he tried to exert himself. The walls were being pulled down on top of him. He needed out.
Cranston could not simply walk out his front door and down Brittle Road. His connection to the house, which protruded from the small of his back, had thickened and become cement-strong.
Out of do-or-die desperation, he began reaching out.
Audrey Feener must fight to convey what she believes to be true: Cranston has no strings, and the physical and mental ailments he portrays are entirely explainable. He can simply walk out the front door before it's too late.
Will the connection between Cranston and Audrey grow to form something they can both hold onto? Or will it turn out to be just another shallow string?
