The Moore's (3)

The Moores (3)

    "I still can't get over how beautiful it is out here," Henrietta Moore said with a smile as she looked out the window of the car. The trees in 100 Oak Valley Woods were vivid with reds and yellows and browns, just changed and not yet beginning to fall, making them seem larger and more packed together.

    "It is quite gorgeous, ain't it, kids?" Stephen Moore replied, looking through the rear view mirror at Vivi and Tyler. 

Vivi smiled wide and nodded, looking at the trees. Just like her mother, Vivi was compelled towards nature. 

    Tyler stared ahead, his arms across his chest, and gave a harrumph of displeasure. Like any young teenager, he was wishing he was somewhere else right now.

    "Come on, Tyler," Stephen said. "We're out here for the week; make it a good one, eh?"

    "Whatever," Tyler muttered.

    "Tyler," Henrietta shook her head. "Are you telling me you can't appreciate the beauty of this place?" She swept her arm at the windshield, gesturing towards the colorful woods all around them. 

    "I'm saying," Tyler replied. "That I'd rather be back home, with my friends, then out here in the middle of nowhere, looking at some stupid leaves."

    "They're not stupid!" Vivi said. "They're pretty. Aren't they mommy?"

    "They sure are, baby." Henrietta smiled.

    "Kiss a*s," Tyler muttered and kicked Vivi's shin.

    "Tyler," Stephen said, his usually happy, good-natured voice a serious, frustrated gravel. "Don't you use language like that again. If you don't like all this nature, you can just suck it up or you can walk the three hundred miles back home. You got it, young man?"

    Tyler muttered something indiscernible under his breath.    

    "What's that? Couldn't hear you, son."

    "I said, 'fine'." Tyler said.

    "Good. And if you hit your sister again, you're gonna be spanked. I don't care if you're fifteen or not, you're butt, my hand, mister. Got it?"

Tyler harrumphed again, but nodded his understanding.

    For several minutes the car was quiet, and then Henrietta said, "Oh, Stephen, look." She pointed to a small post on the side of the road, at the corner of the main gravel road and a smaller one, reading MCDONALD PRESERVES. STOP ON BY! 

    "Can we stop?" Henrietta asked, sounding a little, to Stephen, like an excited child.

    "Sure," Stephen laughed, pulled down his turn signal and turned slowly up the secondary road.

    "How do you know that stuff's not gonna be poison?" Tyler asked.

    "Tyler," Stephen warned.

    "I'm just saying: maybe those McDonald people are psychos and lure people in with those preserves and once they have their victim they rip the skin off them and wear it like a coat or something."

    "Stop it!" Vivi cried, putting her hands to her ears. Tears of fright swept down her cheeks.

    "That's it, Tyler!" Stephen exclaimed. "I'm so sick of your s**t. For the rest of this trip, unless you have something nice to say, you're not gonna say a single word. Got it?"

    Tyler remained quiet.

    "GOT IT?" Stephen, for maybe the third or fourth time ever, shouted at his son.

    "Yeah," Tyler muttered.

They car drove on in silence and, soon, the Moore's came to a small cabin house at the end of the road. As they approached, Stephen saw a large sign hanging beside the door that read MCDONALD PRESERVES. RING THE BELL! HOURS 11:00-4:30. He brought the car to a stop in front of the house and he, Henrietta, and Vivi got out.

    "Weren't you a touch hard on Tyler, Stephen?" Henrietta asked as they walked up the porch steps.

    "No," Stephen answered. "He's miserable so he wants us all to be miserable. He needs to button up his act."

They reached the door and Stephen rang the bell. Almost immediately an elderly woman stepped out, a wide smile on her face.
    "Well, good afternoon!" She exclaimed. "I'm Edna McDonald. And who would you three be?"

    "I'm Stephen Moore, this is my wife Henrietta and our daughter Vivi. Our boy, Tyler, is in the car, being a pain in the rear."

    "As young boys usually are," Edna laughed. "Well, come on in."

The Moore's walked into the cabin, smelling jellies and jams of all flavors. The front of the house was dedicated to the preserves, set up as a quaint shop. In the corner, behind an old fashioned cash register, was an elderly man.

    "That's my husband, Ed," Edna smiled, gesturing to the man. "Take a look around, why don't you? Take your time."

Henrietta thanked her and the family, minus one, looked around at the various jams and preserves.

    Not a truly bad start, Stephen thought, looking at a jar of maple syrup. Not a bad start to a nice little vacation.

Reviews

[Drifter]

I enjoyed this chapter. You've done an interesting job of setting up characters so far. I can't wait to see when the proverbial s**t hits the fan. Also the writing seems to be smoothing out more. Well done!

[Fallacy Pharmacy]

"...maybe those McDonald people are psychos and lure people in with those preserves and once they have their victim they rip the skin off them and wear it like a coat or something." - Hehe, I bet something like that will happen, since I can't help but have a feeling that this story won't end up being as cheerful and happy as it is now XD I really like this, well done! Can't wait to read more!