A Series of Paths

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Action and Adventure  |  House: Booksie Classic

A tale of a boy who lost so much and was given a chance to redo his life with everything that he could ever desire. Only one thing pulled his interest and this "Thing" would save him later on. Possibly some other secrets could be found.

Chapter 1 (v.1) - A Series of Paths

Submitted: March 24, 2013

Reads: 155

Comments: 1

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Submitted: March 24, 2013



Once again I was surrounded by despair and had one less family member. This was my second trip to a field where happiness and joy were unheard of. Slabs of concrete were placed to show who it was that was now only a skeleton of their former self. I hated cemeteries ever since I lost my mother in a freak accident at what was supposed to be a night of Christmas shopping. Only a few months later did my own father take his own life. But within those few months he was miserable. I couldn’t help him nor could my sister, Zoë. We were so young when we saw him handing from a piece of string. His cursive note was too fancy for either of us to comprehend. I was just learning it and Zoë was only five. I was brought up homeschooled by my mother and since my father was too busy morning over our loss, that’s when my education stopped. A simple fifteen year old boy and a five year old little sister where left to fend for themselves.

I hated what happened next. A long rain covered limousine was waiting in the distance and now I was left with no choice but to leave with some excuses for parents. I despised these rich being from the first mention of this idea proposed by some guidance counselor after our mother was brutally killed with her own hands.  “A Mess at the Mall” is what the newspapers called it. They know nothing of what happened and only saw the ending and made conclusions from there. The limo drove off and all that went through my head was “What can I do?” I couldn’t defend myself, I had no weapons. I was just a young boy who saw many horrible things earlier than anyone should.

It was just another castle of someone with too much money and time. This married the car. I looked at my sister for her thoughts on this new layout. I don’t know why I even tried. She hadn’t spoken or made any noise since the night at some stupid mall. I was the only one who brought a memory with me out of the two of us. A silly little memory of the past is all. Just a small picture of our once together family. I lost myself in finding something to show me the way. Of all the things I could have grabbed, I took this picture. I could have grabbed some necklace or ring, but instead I grabbed a picture.

The house was large and well looked after by an army of maids. Even though I never saw them I could tell they were there. Not a thumb print of anyone in this family could be found subjecting that they were very thorough. The walls where lined with portraits of their ancestors and statues of this married couple that adopted us. At the top of a red velveteen stair case, my sister and I where spit and taken to our separate sleeping quarters. The room was about the size of my former two story house, painted a shade of blue that many would describe as a bizarre mix of sky and baby blue. The bed seemed to resemble the size of my old bedroom and the bathroom was made of a green marble. I stood and questioned if I should rebel against these parents or run to them with open arms. I chose the first option, but only to the parents and their ideas. I would still take care of myself and proceeded into a hot shower.

During my time where water eased my sore body and calmed me of some strange feeling of sadness that was like no other, I pondered if my sister would do as I and rebel against them. I continued and the though moved on to, “If she now loved these parents, would still love her?” I prayed that it wouldn’t come to that because she is the only family I have left. I finished my business in the showered and found some over the top fluffy towels. Of all the things I hated about this place, which was just about everything, I like the towels. Something about carrying a towel made me feel that I where to flee the scene right now, I would be alright. Crazy as it may sound, even to me, I still felt that way.

The morning arrived and the alarms rang at precisely 7:00 AM. I was requested to prepare myself for breakfast by a rather slim gentleman in a tuxedo. I still took a shower just for the glory of the towel. I found some jeans that fit me; which was concerning as only I knew my current pant size. A polo shirt was waiting for me on the bed and a choice of deodorant and cologne was displayed across many selves. I threw some deodorant on and put on the polo. Strangely, the clothes that I had worn the night before where gone. I guess that would explain the pant size, but I was still suspicious.

The breakfast table was even scarier than the pant size. In between the false parents of mine sat a small five year old girl name Zoë. Inside I felt that I lost another family member to some horrible accident. But I truly knew that this was far worse than any accident. I considered the idea of them using drugs to make her like them. I ditched the idea and decided that this family is what she truly wanted and that now she had a father that loved her and a mother that was very much alive. She even said good morning to me. Inside I felt that I was no longer the biggest part of her life. She had found someone who accepted her and she was open to it so much that she spoke. I left the room.

© Copyright 2017 Spnasrettub G. All rights reserved.


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