It was a cold day; the heavens were raining down heavily across the smooth carpet of green that lay beneath. The song of the red-breasted robins broke the silence that filled the land. The green grass that covered the land filled the heart with full of joy, to see nature rule in it's own domain, in all its glory and all its pain. In the middle of all this lay the place to which I must go.
             It was an old country house, where my good old friend Harold lived; he was more a businessman than anything. His whole life revolved around his factory, it was his lives work, and it was him one might say. For a man like he the end was not far away for time was not as kind to him as one might hope. Harold had grown Ill over the past two years, he had cancer of the lungs, and his smoking did not help him much. Harold's greatest worry was not that he was going to die, death was never downside in his view, and he did not care when he would die all he wanted was his dream to live on even after his own demise. This was all he wanted, but this proved to be more of a challenge than he had expected. He had two son's their names were Harry and Tom. Harry was a kind forgiving person in my eyes but not everyone thought of him that way. He was the second born and he always felt that he was growing under the shadow of his bigger brother Tom. He always wanted to do thing differently no matter what he was in one way the exact opposite to Tom. Even though he hated coming second for anything family related he never blamed his brother for it. His respect for his brother was greater than his love to his mother. He regarded Tom to be the greatest thing in the world. Tom on the other hand thought otherwise he always regarded Harry as extra baggage, he never considered him as anything much more than someone to take the blame for Tom's actions. But he always acted nice to him; he used Harry as a finger puppet. Ah well that was a long time ago hopefull...