Spazola
08-06-2007, 08:54 PM
I can’t remember the last time I slept all through the night, without the echo of my own screams jolting me awake.
This is what I’m thinking about when I climb into Jack’s car. My house looks gloomy, almost haunted, in the pool of light leaking from the full moon. The white paint is all but chipped completely off, the windows are cracked, the screen door dangling from one hinge. I can remember what it looks like on the inside, too; piles of dirty clothes, dust, and dirty dishes greet you when you enter. Boxes and bags from cheap fast food places are stacked up like mountains. And you have to watch your step if you’re barefoot, or you might end up stepping on a needle and injecting yourself with God-knows-what. As a child I’d always try to clean up the best I could, but I gave up when I realized that it was no use. The messes would be made faster than I could clean them up anyway.
If that’s the haunted house, Jack must be the beautiful female ghost haunting it. Her fair skin looks almost frighteningly pale in the moonlight, her blonde hair resting on her shoulders like ribbons of fine, silver silk. Her green eyes stand out, almost glowing in the darkness. Cat eyes.
She puts the car in reverse and slowly backs out of my driveway. I hold my backpack close to me, turning to take a last glance at my home.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Chapter One: Home Sweet Home
“Cammy, wake up! It’s almost lunch time!” Nemi whines in my ear. I open one eye, my eyelid screaming in exhausted protest. I let it fall shut again.
“Nem, it’s my day off. Let me sleep.”
“But…but Mommy made grilled cheese!” I open my eyes with the intention of glaring at her…and that’s my mistake.
Nemi is four years old, and as cute as anything. She’s tiny, even for her age--she was two months premature, it was a miracle she even lived. Her silky blonde hair curls at the ends, resting just so delicately on her shoulders. She has chubby cheeks, with big dimples on either side. Her eyes are huge, beautiful cat-green orbs, pleading as she looks at me.
Nemi is like an exact miniature-version of her mother.
“I’m up, I’m up,” I mumble, tossing the covers off of me.
My bed consists of a pile of blankets and a pillow in the corner of a room that I share with two other people. Some would consider this a crappy set up--but for me, it’s heaven. Safe. Cozy. I wouldn’t trade it for the world.
Annabelle and Josh--my roomies--are a huge part of the closest thing I’ve ever had to a family. They’re both older than me--Nineteen and twenty one respectively--and look out for me like I’m a little sister. It’s nice.
As Nemi moves on to wake the other occupants of the room, I slip out of my night clothes and into a pair of jeans and a t-shirt. I walk into the kitchen, where Jack is stacking grilled cheese sandwiches onto a large plate.
“Good afternoon, miss Camilla. Would you care for some breakfast?” She says in a sing-song voice.
I yawn, nodding in response. I watch Jack cooking, and am amazed by how utterly gorgeous she looks. Just in her sweatpants and an old shirt, her hair unwashed and tied back in a sloppy pony tail.
At twenty one, Jack is already a wonderful mother. Not just to Nemi, but to all five teenagers (with the exception of Josh, who is also in his twenties) she allows to stay here. She moved into this double-wide trailer with Nemi when she was seventeen, after Nemi’s father broke off their engagement and disappeared without a trace. Apparently, raising a baby as a working single mother and going to school wasn’t enough of a challenge. It’s like how some people can’t resist bring home a million stray dogs or cats--Jack can’t resist bringing home kids.
It started with Annabelle and Josh, who Jack knew from high school. Josh had always jumped between friend’s houses, just looking for a place to crash every night--none of us were quite sure what happened to his family. When he asked Jack to let him stay over a few nights, he ended up staying a few years.
Annabelle came about a year later. After a life of moving between countless abusive foster homes, Jack intervened, suggesting that Annabelle emancipate herself and stay with her. Anna was approved, and moved in shortly there after.
Then there’s Daemon. He was taken straight from the streets after Jack hit him with her car late one night--with minor injuries, a few bruises at the most. After listening to him relay his story, Jack offered him a place to stay--and he never left.
Last but not least, there’s Noah. He’s the newest addition, next to me (I’ve been here for about six months now). His parents kicked him out after he came out of the closet, and he turned to Jack, an old friend, for emotional support. Instead, he got an entire support group and a home.
Jack’s house has always been very interesting, like the people in it. Four teenagers, two twenty-somethings and a toddler, all of them crazy, all of them haunted, can make for quite a bit of chaos.
And I love every minute of it.
Chapter Two: Sound waves
As everyone takes their seats for lunch--four at the table, three on the couch and me on the floor--the buzz of morning-afternoon conversation hums in the air, a familiar melody.
I lean against the arm of the couch, taking a bite of my sandwich. Daemon, who’s sitting closest to me, glances down.
“You’re such an emo kid,” he says with a smirk, shaking his head in mock-disapproval.
I sigh. “What did I do this time?”
“You always take the floor seat. Every. Single. Day.”
“I like to eat alone,” I say in a solemn tone. “That way I can reflect on my inner pain while I fill the emptiness I feel inside with food.”
Daemon pats my shoulder, playing along and donning a pitying expression. “It’s okay, little emo kid, don’t cry…just write a poem or something…”
After I finish my lunch I step out into the freshly mown lawn, the warm summer air welcoming. A small garden boarders the edge of the house, flowers blooming reluctantly from the safety of their buds. A few honey bees hum happily, floating gracefully from flower to flower.
Jack’s neighborhood isn’t your typical trailer park. The yards are neat and well kept, the children playing in the grass exceptionally polite, clean and seemingly well cared for. The neighbors are friendly.
I lie down in the warm grass, letting my eyes fall closed. The gentle mix of the children next door laughing, bees humming, birds singing somewhere in the distance, and laugher drifting from inside the house creates a wonderful symphony. This, combined with a stomach full of Jack’s cooking, the warmth of the sun, and Daemon’s grin etched into my mind, it’s hard to imagine how anyone could feel an ounce of unhappiness on such a beautiful day.
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I'm in the middle of writing chapter three right now...let me know what you guys think. :)
This is what I’m thinking about when I climb into Jack’s car. My house looks gloomy, almost haunted, in the pool of light leaking from the full moon. The white paint is all but chipped completely off, the windows are cracked, the screen door dangling from one hinge. I can remember what it looks like on the inside, too; piles of dirty clothes, dust, and dirty dishes greet you when you enter. Boxes and bags from cheap fast food places are stacked up like mountains. And you have to watch your step if you’re barefoot, or you might end up stepping on a needle and injecting yourself with God-knows-what. As a child I’d always try to clean up the best I could, but I gave up when I realized that it was no use. The messes would be made faster than I could clean them up anyway.
If that’s the haunted house, Jack must be the beautiful female ghost haunting it. Her fair skin looks almost frighteningly pale in the moonlight, her blonde hair resting on her shoulders like ribbons of fine, silver silk. Her green eyes stand out, almost glowing in the darkness. Cat eyes.
She puts the car in reverse and slowly backs out of my driveway. I hold my backpack close to me, turning to take a last glance at my home.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Chapter One: Home Sweet Home
“Cammy, wake up! It’s almost lunch time!” Nemi whines in my ear. I open one eye, my eyelid screaming in exhausted protest. I let it fall shut again.
“Nem, it’s my day off. Let me sleep.”
“But…but Mommy made grilled cheese!” I open my eyes with the intention of glaring at her…and that’s my mistake.
Nemi is four years old, and as cute as anything. She’s tiny, even for her age--she was two months premature, it was a miracle she even lived. Her silky blonde hair curls at the ends, resting just so delicately on her shoulders. She has chubby cheeks, with big dimples on either side. Her eyes are huge, beautiful cat-green orbs, pleading as she looks at me.
Nemi is like an exact miniature-version of her mother.
“I’m up, I’m up,” I mumble, tossing the covers off of me.
My bed consists of a pile of blankets and a pillow in the corner of a room that I share with two other people. Some would consider this a crappy set up--but for me, it’s heaven. Safe. Cozy. I wouldn’t trade it for the world.
Annabelle and Josh--my roomies--are a huge part of the closest thing I’ve ever had to a family. They’re both older than me--Nineteen and twenty one respectively--and look out for me like I’m a little sister. It’s nice.
As Nemi moves on to wake the other occupants of the room, I slip out of my night clothes and into a pair of jeans and a t-shirt. I walk into the kitchen, where Jack is stacking grilled cheese sandwiches onto a large plate.
“Good afternoon, miss Camilla. Would you care for some breakfast?” She says in a sing-song voice.
I yawn, nodding in response. I watch Jack cooking, and am amazed by how utterly gorgeous she looks. Just in her sweatpants and an old shirt, her hair unwashed and tied back in a sloppy pony tail.
At twenty one, Jack is already a wonderful mother. Not just to Nemi, but to all five teenagers (with the exception of Josh, who is also in his twenties) she allows to stay here. She moved into this double-wide trailer with Nemi when she was seventeen, after Nemi’s father broke off their engagement and disappeared without a trace. Apparently, raising a baby as a working single mother and going to school wasn’t enough of a challenge. It’s like how some people can’t resist bring home a million stray dogs or cats--Jack can’t resist bringing home kids.
It started with Annabelle and Josh, who Jack knew from high school. Josh had always jumped between friend’s houses, just looking for a place to crash every night--none of us were quite sure what happened to his family. When he asked Jack to let him stay over a few nights, he ended up staying a few years.
Annabelle came about a year later. After a life of moving between countless abusive foster homes, Jack intervened, suggesting that Annabelle emancipate herself and stay with her. Anna was approved, and moved in shortly there after.
Then there’s Daemon. He was taken straight from the streets after Jack hit him with her car late one night--with minor injuries, a few bruises at the most. After listening to him relay his story, Jack offered him a place to stay--and he never left.
Last but not least, there’s Noah. He’s the newest addition, next to me (I’ve been here for about six months now). His parents kicked him out after he came out of the closet, and he turned to Jack, an old friend, for emotional support. Instead, he got an entire support group and a home.
Jack’s house has always been very interesting, like the people in it. Four teenagers, two twenty-somethings and a toddler, all of them crazy, all of them haunted, can make for quite a bit of chaos.
And I love every minute of it.
Chapter Two: Sound waves
As everyone takes their seats for lunch--four at the table, three on the couch and me on the floor--the buzz of morning-afternoon conversation hums in the air, a familiar melody.
I lean against the arm of the couch, taking a bite of my sandwich. Daemon, who’s sitting closest to me, glances down.
“You’re such an emo kid,” he says with a smirk, shaking his head in mock-disapproval.
I sigh. “What did I do this time?”
“You always take the floor seat. Every. Single. Day.”
“I like to eat alone,” I say in a solemn tone. “That way I can reflect on my inner pain while I fill the emptiness I feel inside with food.”
Daemon pats my shoulder, playing along and donning a pitying expression. “It’s okay, little emo kid, don’t cry…just write a poem or something…”
After I finish my lunch I step out into the freshly mown lawn, the warm summer air welcoming. A small garden boarders the edge of the house, flowers blooming reluctantly from the safety of their buds. A few honey bees hum happily, floating gracefully from flower to flower.
Jack’s neighborhood isn’t your typical trailer park. The yards are neat and well kept, the children playing in the grass exceptionally polite, clean and seemingly well cared for. The neighbors are friendly.
I lie down in the warm grass, letting my eyes fall closed. The gentle mix of the children next door laughing, bees humming, birds singing somewhere in the distance, and laugher drifting from inside the house creates a wonderful symphony. This, combined with a stomach full of Jack’s cooking, the warmth of the sun, and Daemon’s grin etched into my mind, it’s hard to imagine how anyone could feel an ounce of unhappiness on such a beautiful day.
-------
I'm in the middle of writing chapter three right now...let me know what you guys think. :)