Part 1

Why does everything always begin with moving? I’ve moved nine times in my life, and every single time has only brought problems. We moved, my annoying little sister came. We moved, my parents got divorced. We moved, I became the ignored child. We moved, my step dad came. We moved, Dad got killed. We moved, I found out my dad had been married. We moved, Mom got killed. War between steps on who had custody. But, nothing compares to that seventh move, the one that almost pushed me over the edge.

Apparently, all that time spent in court fighting over Sybil and me made Greg and Hannah grow so close together. Now, my step mom and step dad are married. If that sounds bizarre, try living with it.

“Carter?” Sybil dropped her box next to me. “It’s time.” When we had first moved, was when I had first learned to write. I recorded the date we moved in, the address, how far away from the old house we were, and whether or not I had to change schools. Unfortunately, the school column is usually “Yes.”

I removed the small notebook. It was the kind that reporters used to keep track of their notes. “What do you think girls?” I hid the notebook from Hannah in my jacket.

“I wouldn’t attached.” Sybil said. It was true, we moved every one or two years.

“I can guarantee you. We’re staying here for a while.”

“Sure.” I said, sarcastically.

The house had an eerie feeling. The kind you get when you know you’re on haunted lands. Maybe Mom’s here in spirit, I thought. Yeah, Carter. And maybe pigs fly.

There were those fancy columns by the front door. Except these were concrete, and so crumbled I wouldn’t stand under the top for very long. You couldn’t see the first story windows through the grass, and the front walk looked as if it was in a jungle. It looked like the front was made of brick, but it wasn’t any better than the columns. Great, nightmares tonight.

Sybil nudged me. Hannah and Greg were arguing over which box went where. If we were to get out, it was now.

We had never had much stuff, it was only more to pack for the next house. Sybil had four boxes, and I had three. But with Hannah’s shopaholic attitude, the next move would be a big hassle. With our boxes in the old wagon, we approached the door, and took in the sight.

The inside made Count Olaf’s mansion look clean. I hoped there wasn’t a basement, because if there was, then the floor was about to become part of it. I took a cautious step towards a hole in the flooring near the center of the room. Great, there was a basement. Even more fantastic, it had extra high ceilings. Maybe there was a shed out back I could live in?

Reviews

[veronica.voodoo]

hello! despite how short this was, i really enjoyed reading this! i like carter's persona, he's very cynical and he seems to be the 'quiet' and 'introverted' type of person. i'm having a bit of a hard time placing a face on the characters, but i'm going to go ahead and guess that carter is fifteen, sixteen and his sister, maybe a few years younger, around twelve(?). it is a bit odd that the custody battles would force two people together but i guess if it showed to each other how much Carter and Sybil meant to the other, maybe they would get romantic feelings? i'm not too sure, maybe you'll write about it more on. anyways, this was pretty good, keep writing. :]