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I REMEMBER, It was the second week of spring- a typical chilly night, our car came to a halt, outside the Westlake mansion. I remembered being there all those years ago, when I was much younger, it brought idyllic memories I had been told, witnessed and still hold photos of; Memories of when I was born, to times I was a crawling toddler to times I could ride a bike and learnt how to write, scribbling my name on the walls any chance I had a pen, marker, crayon in my hands. It was earlier that day when Dad said we'd be traveling back there, back to the place I once called home, or should I say the only place I ever called home.
The gates opened and our car drove in. When we got out of the car, out stood four people, I briefly glanced at their faces, there was a familiar face amongst the blurry faces. Forgetting at that point, for me was becoming too easy, but how could I forget the one who taught me how to write my last name. Alberto Lance Rodriguez, but we knew him as Albert.
They began taking out our luggage and carrying it to our house. When I walked inside more memories ran passed me. A memory of me riding in the house without my training wheels and crashing into anything in sight. Albert chasing after me, he was responsible for all my mischief and basically everything I did, this meant if I was in trouble he was in much bigger trouble. He's job included, keeping me out of trouble, ensuring I was fed, cleaned up and ready for lessons.
I walked upstairs to my old room, I remember it being just as big as the one I had back in London but much bigger than the one I had in Rome. Blue, cobalt blue my room used to be, but now. The walls had been repainted to this rich dark orchid color, that I highly did not favor, it didn't even denote my personality or any of my likes, Dad knew my preferences and still he chose this particular rebrand shade,
My eyes delve elsewhere around the room, trying to push my displeasure and biased opinions far away to actually reminisce and process what other new details had been introduced. Near, to the door was a door which was leading to the adjacent room were my bathroom and closet room were. At my bed were these dark grey silky bed covers, which weren't really a bad choice. On the left side was a large book shelf containing a few books, it was obvious that Dad had them clear out my old immature collection for me to put in my new books. By it was a reading space with a long grey desk and computer. At the further end an adjoined room, which I once called my play room but now my sports room. At least, the similarity was that I still played in it.
At the right side corner of the room was a television set, a dark jade transparent glass table with a plush dark rug of millstone gray hid underneath, next to an L- shaped sofa that had the hue of a gray afternoon with matching dark creamy cushions, waxy deep shade of pewter green marble floors, probably seventeen paces from the television side were large windows, with brocade dark grape curtains covered shut because of night fall. Just between the television side windows were doors, doors to my favorite spot. The Balcony, which allowed me to have a great view of Hevellyn Hills Magnificent Enormous Hourglass- the Evellyn Hourglass, tower.
It was Named after the first female president in the eleventh century. Just as I thought of her, Albert came in with my last bag. I took a good look at the man that used to read me bedtime stories every night. He was much older now, wrinkles had began to form around his face, his black hair turning grey balding from his head, with fine lines around his solemn brown eyes.
"Welcome back. . . Sir.'' He's eyes spun with avidity.
It resounded in my head, I felt a weird assortment of confusion and appall crawl down my spine, as I recalled of the silly name he used to call me, at a single time Aarie, dafty how things change.
"Anything else I can help you with?" He asked, his thin lips curled out a resolute smile.
"Um. . . Nothing for now. . ."
He nodded and turned, right before he went out. I mentioned to him.
"Albert. . Call me. . . Aaron." I said. Nothing had change between us, only a number of years of me being older but I was still the same old Aarie he once knew.
He nodded and shut the door behind him.
I sat at the edge of my bed, I looked around again, falling back, collectively sighing, it had changed, it had left its childhood scent and moved onto adulthood. Sometimes, I found it hard to stop, believing in everything that I once knew to be true, could be the superficial or the unrealistic or maybe even just exaggerations, but they all machinations or notions I used to help me cope with the absolute emptiness I felt.
I looked up at my new ceiling. It was white- plain white and boring. It was the final piece needed for me to feel this longing~ flusteredly, feeling throttling up at my thoart. It made it impossible for me to think without feeling immensely aggravated.
I turned at my window and for seconds I heard muffle voices. I tried to put my concerntration on something else to help me think of anything. And for moments, I could hear Dad but his voice sounded alot faint. I tried harder to listen, but I couldn't make up any sentence let alone word, he seemed to be uttering. He was too far. I sighed, staring back at the ceiling. I looked at it hard enough to fade away into my thoughts; thoughts of how I got up that morning; thoughts of me in the shower; the twinkling feeling of thin drops of water rushing down my body; the musky smell of my body wash; I thought even harder to what I had for breakfast, I remembered skipping it.
I remembered most of the flight. Dad was on a phone call with a screenwriter from Brooklyn, discussing about Laura Spencer's script. I was suppose to be watching my favorite talk show but all I remembered was staring at the screen and watching their mouths move. I wanted to think about something, Anything but nothing. My mind was completely consumed with absolutely nothing. As if closing my eyes made it better, all I could see was darkest; pitch blackness.
I hated that, I had nothing on my mind, nothing I could think of, and to make matters worse I was too exhausted and mentally drained to actually get up and find something to entertain myself, I didn't even know where my cellphone was. And those muffle voices got even thinner, until they just disappeared and I couldn't hear anything only my feeble exhaling, in my pin drop quiet room. I preferred the silence just not the empty thoughts. I opened my eyes at the ceiling, looked at it again, I looked close enough and out of the entire white ceiling was the smallest black spot- it looked like tiny~ tiny rings, encircling into each other, all to meet at it's core one black tinier spot, hard to miss actually. I was surprised of how I missed it before it was right above me. At first glance it seemed like just a spot.
Looking at it made me resort to it as the sky, the evening night sky; and its many spots- the stars. The hot gaseous mass in space, visible as a point of light at night. I closed my eyes again that was something to think of. When I opened my eyes for the second time, it was because of the light hurting my eyes. It was the light from my curtains. It was a New morning, another day, I sat up wondering where the time had gone to. It felt like only a minute when I shut my eyes and reopened them. I gloomily, looked around at my temporal room, the night before- last night felt like a dream, only I was really there, back in my old room, my home- it didn't feel like home. It felt just like another apartment, pen house, hotel room or anything but a home.
My bags, I looked at the exact spot I had left them, told me I wanted to leave, with them like that to some place that didn't match my solitude feeling. I began to wonder ' I could have asked Dad yesterday but he didn't give me the chance to, it was one phone call after the other, and I had this consuming feeling which resembled the one I felt last night. I wondered again; Of all, the places I've had second rounds to revisit I wouldn't pick this place, I got up, to my bathroom to shower. After I headed out, only because my stomach growled, I hadn't had anything but water yesterday and I was starting to feel hollow. Just as I walked downstairs, I heard Dad's voice mumbling in between cadences, in the Dining room, he sounded like he was reading something. I was right he was reading, old fashionedly reading today's paper, which he never did, this was new, he also seemed to be having his breakfast, whilst.
Stolen from its original source, this story is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.
I was going to quietly step back and go unnoticed, because Dad hated disturbances or interruptions when he was reading, and going to sit by him might've just done that. Just as I turned back I bumped into one of the unfamiliar faces I'd seen last night. It was a man, twice my size, in a formal black suit; cream white shirt and black neck tie, he's head was winded with rusty red hair, a clean shaved beard on a hard chiseled face and I finally noticed his expression, it pierced right through me, and I felt like this weak small thing compared to him. He had this hard inhuman flared on, I looked into his eyes- his silvery, cold, still eyes. I was supposedly under his gaze, which was neither forthcoming nor friendly, and when his strange eyes flickered, I felt them look directly into my soul, he felt wrong, like a cold man from his impassive expressions to his stance.
I felt myself shrink into his impertubable gaze, trying to keep calm but my breath got the best of me as it quickened and I inhaled measures of it to weld me from seeming timid, . I held his watch for moments before I heard a voice, that almost made me ounce.
"Junior, I see you've met Cosmon." Said Dad. I turned to Dad breaking off our stare. "Your new chauffeur. ."
New chauffeur, this I immediately thought of, when I'd leave the house I'd see this terrifying man everytime, I thought of my situation being a hopeful one, I hardly left the house it was a good thing.
"Sir, car's ready. ." The man- Cosmon spoke, he was Russian, I could tell by his accent which hinted that out.
"Give me fifteen minutes. I'll be out. ." Dad said to him. "Junior, breakfast?"
I could have responded soon enough, but I was preoccupied watching Cosmon leave the room, he was a roughly built man, aside from his height were his huge muscular Arms that almost looked like they couldn't hold on in that jacket. He'd make a better bodyguard than chauffeur, I considered. As I heard for the second time Dad speak.
I joined him, I sat at his left side. Instantly I felt we hadn't eaten together nearly a decade. We rarely did that only on occasions if I was being honest. In spite of being in the same house we ate separately, at different times. I looked at my several options infront of me. Pancakes, scrambled eggs and bacon with orange juice were fine. Before I took a bite out of anything I glanced at Dad, he was on his phone now, sipping his coffee. Just as I turned away I noticed the newspaper, half of it was burried under his plate while the other half, I could see a few words, the bold headlines:
'MAN FOUND DEAD AT-' the rest were buried, I suddenly, felt this dull feeling of loss that pained me sending a numb wave coursing over my skin. I stared at that four letter word D-E-A-D. It reminded me of the replay I played every twenty-seventh July.
Muffling words got louder to clear as I resumed back.
"Junior?" Dad called, quirking a dark eyebrow.
"Huh? Yes?" I answered, I averted my gaze to his.
"Where's your mind today?" He narrowed his intrigued gaze at me.
"Sorry. . . Just. . . a little Exhausted." I said staring at my plate, I quickly glanced at Dad and found him staring at me. He seemed to be studying my face.
"How was your sleep? Like your new room?" He asked.
"It's not new. ." I corrected him, wondering why he'd ask such a question.
"Right. How's your room then?" He rephrased.
"Temporal room you mean?" I corrected again, nudging my fork at my eggs.
"No. I mean your room." Dad said with much emphasis, his velvet tone fractured slightly, mild irritation now proned out in it.
I lifted my eyes, "Alright." I blankly answered. "How long are we here? when do I resume my lessons?"
Dad's always been Frank with me, he, I believed was a candid man, he told me what was on his mind, whether truthful, hard or hurtful, he always stirred to the precise point. This is why I thought when I'd ask I'd finally get some answers to my longing questions.
"Well. You'll resume your classes soon enough- as soon as we find you a school. . I've been thinking North Hamalton or Hevellyn hills-" He began to trail off.
I zoomed into my thoughts '
"School?'' I stuttered alittle. "What do you mean school?" I asked.
"Junior, a High school, you'll be attending.'' He answered, bluntly as if it were a top obvious detail to miss out.
''What? But- I'm homeschooled. That's alright, isn't it?'' The pinch between my dark brows narrowed, edgyness creeping up my throat.
Dad blankly stared, ''Not anymore, Junior, we might be here for a while, I did mention to you some prior time, that I was born here, I lived here for a couple of years and I also went to a high school here. Exactly what you're going to do.''
My mind was on '
"Dad, I'm fine with being homeschooled." I prostested firmly, the grip around my fork tightened.
"You're fine with it, because you've never had a second option or any other options. ." He's brows squeezed forward.
"But that doesn't mean I don't like being homeschooled.'' I agrued, my jaw clicked, as usual, he didn't ask me for my opinion, I'd like to say this was all new to me, except it wasn't, him dictating my life infront of me had become archaic.
"Look. This is how this is going to end. With you agreeing to this and No more disagreements-" but before he could finish.
"But Dad-" I interrupted.
"Don't talk over me." He's voice went from water to ice. He's eyes were arctic and his tone mirrored it all, I delved one last time to see that exuberant flare that was always captured in his midnight blue eyes, it was winked out. Nothing there.
I could feel the steep tension build up between us, like most of how conversations ended. An irk pinch developed in between my brows, my square jaw hardened, as my grim gaze spun at the floor at my soaks, bump into each other in defeat, I nodded.
"Good. Diane said Hevellyn Hills High school is one of the Most prestigious schools in the city. You'll like it. I'll get you admissions on monday, since you're so to resume classes. Does that clear your questions?" His voice was impassive, with a tang of sarcasm tickling at it's edge.
I would have glared at him if I had the balls to or maybe even walked away from this unfair conversation, but Dad was Dad and whatever he decided was final. He had the last say on matters. I had to be with him or with him, no other options. I couldn't stray away. I've never seen what he could do if I chose a different option, but the sternness of his voice was enough to give me plenty to imagine, and one of the thoughts wasn't letting me have my way and then just glaring at me. It didn't take him those fifteen minutes, right after our '' little chat, he left.
I fell back at my seat and sighed. I lost my appetite, another thought to think of. High School. I'd never been to school, I've been homeschooled my whole life, we'd been travelling so much that it just didn't fit, I couldn't start school if we were only there for six months, Dad took me everywhere he went- by everywhere I meant temporal Households we went to and as if I was in school prior to all this travelling, It was never really fit for me to start school any where and I was already used to that fact.
The solitude, I was used to me being the only student but that was going to change. And I knew we were going to be here for the longest while. Upsetting as it was to going to school, from all the years I spent comfortable in my own space, I was forced to, as if coming here wasn't bad enough, but going to school was clearly equivalent. I got up back to my room, I thought. I walked slowly out of there with measured foot steps, in these thin times that turned into so many years, this house had changed. I looked around as I climbed the stairs. Our theme, used to be summery warm colors, now everything looked colder than winter.
I got to my hallway where my room was, the hallway felt so lifeless without anything on it. All the photos Mom had hang at a single time had been taken down. I touched the dark gray walls, down the longest hallway was a short one, that led to Mom's Painting room, I vaguely remembered the paintings, though I could recall how colorful and creative they were, they always seemed to make my dark world vivid and avidity. I walked off to see them again. The short hallway I remembered had a few paintings Mom painted, hang, I might have not been able to remember them so well but I remembered the feeling I got; how uplifting it felt to look at them, all you could really pay attention to were her beautiful paintings as you walked along it.
However, when I turned to see them, I was disappointed because they had all been removed. Now the hallway was as borring as the rest of the Artless house I called it, even though Dad said otherwise. The hallway was instead dark and even alot more colder than the rest of the house, and the house was When I looked at the door I knew exactly what I'd find in there. Nothing. But I still wondered if Dad had them clear it out too. I felt too discouraged to even open the door that when I actually got to the door knob I just held it, for what it was worth they was nothing in there. I turned back to my room but before I left I shot one final glance at the dark chestnut door, my heart wanting to know if behind that door Mom's memories were still there.
I found myself furrowing my brows in astonishment, when I turned back, the door was slightly open now. I stood buggledly staring, wondering if I mistakenly opened it or did I imagine it closed before. When I took a step, I heard a tensed muffle voice, become audible from inside the room, someone was inside it. When I took another step the room fell silent, though afraid of being heard, which made me even more curious to know what was going on. I moved closer to the room, it was as if it were advancing further inspite of it appearing so close. It was confusing, it took me less than a minute to get to it just a second ago, now walking to the door took, me longer than it previously did.
I simply, stood breathing out a breath of bewilderment, defeatedly just staring at the door. In that moment, I found an odd sensation swirl within me, twisting my sight, like a weighing on gravity, like a dragging of length, distance shortening, my feet remained stationed but I found this dizzy adjustment drawing me to the door. I blinked, and I was at its knob again, a prompting foot at the door, right about to step in, before I could comprehend what just happened, I saw a hand put over mine.
What do you think is REALLY going on in this house?
