Chapter 9 - Snooping Around
Submitted September 4, 2009 Updated August 10, 2010 Status Incomplete | Um, just a little something I was working on that isn''t a fanfiction. I''m writing a story about a young teenager who hears a life-changing conversation from his new neighbors'' window. That''s the best I can describe it, but I suck a story descriptions.
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Miscellaneous » Writing » Action/Adventure |
Chapter 9 - Snooping Around
Chapter 9 - Snooping Around
Leo’s POV
“Home,” I call out to Mom, who…isn’t here. Hmm. I guess she’s at the store, buying her food. That’s probably where she is
. Maybe I should call her, but I just don’t feel like it.
I look around, taking in our cluttered little kitchen. It’s not much, but it sustains us well enough. Connecting to it is our dining room, which isn’t much better. We never have guests over for dinner so we never bother to make it look nice. It’s a pain in the butt, as Leanne would say. Well, as she would say if she disliked cleaning. The only reason she doesn’t clean it much is because she never has any time. Our living room is in front of our eating area, along with a tiny bathroom. These we make look somewhat presentable, because this is usually the only part of our house that guests ever see. But most of the time it has laundry and sheet music scattered everywhere. Oh, and cat hair. Our cat sheds a lot, and we don’t vacuum often enough. Speaking of our cat, where is she? I haven’t seen her in a few days. Oh well.
The stairs are on the side of the kitchen closest to the front of our house, and I climb up them to get to my room. It’s right next to Leanne’s. She keeps hers nice and neat, but mine’s a pigsty. The fact that it’s small just adds to the messiness. Everything stays in its general area, but within the areas I can never find anything.
Now I’m searching for a notebook, which Leanne gave to me for my birthday last year. I still haven’t used it.
Aha! There it is! Triumphant, I pull it out from under my old school stuff and flip it open. I head the paper:
Odd Things That Have Happened This Summer
Then I continue to write underneath it.
Some new neighbors moved in who happen to be Dad’s siblings.
Telsa hinted at the fact that she’s not human…?
Mom has been having random moments of saneness.
I once played the guitar for an hour or more without realizing that I was playing.
The new neighbors – well, one of them – has been talking about ‘sides’ and other weird things like that.
I frown and chew absently on the end of my pen. I think I named everything. I should have Leanne form a list and we can compare.
Well, now what?
Leanne’s gone to who knows where, Mom’s out shopping, Telsa just kicked me out of her house, and all of my friends are gone on vacation together. Mom wouldn’t let me go with them. Apparently they’ve been having a lot of fun without me – they only bothered to send one e-mail, which compromised of (and I am not exaggerating):
Hey Leo,
Wish you were here. It’s really fun! Hawaii’s the best. See you in July!
- Mark, Adam, Teddie, and Orland
Yeah, and that’s all they sent. They’d better be back soon.
Maybe I can go exploring Leanne’s room. I haven’t been in there for years. This could be fun.
I silently open the door and creep into a well organized, very neat room – all, that is, except for her bed. It looks like she was thrashing around like an eel last night and forgot to make the bed before she went and disappeared. The furniture even matches – it’s all composed of dark brown wood, and everything else is a dark purple, like her bedsheets and the walls. She has a few posters of bands she likes posted around the place. They’re old posters, because Leanne always likes older songs – hey, I didn’t know she liked Elton John! I always thought she liked 50’s music. What has she been hiding from me all these years?
Then I see her laptop.
Grinning in a very evil way, and with a nasty giggle to match, I flip open the top of her white MacBook. Photoshop Elements is open to one of her projects. It’s an odd one – a picture of a guy that looks like me is open. It looks like an almost perfect replica, but with deliberate mistakes…hey! It’s Dad! She did a picture of Dad! I don’t know how she knew what he looked like, but hey, that’s Dad. Amused, I open up her other file.
It’s rather sad and gruesome, actually. A guy in a car getting hit by a bus, like Dad. Why the heck would she do that?
I just sit there and stare at it, confused.
After a while I leave her room, carefully returning her computer to what it was like before I came along. I go back into my room and add something to my list of strange things.
Leanne drew two weird pictures, one of Dad and another of a car getting hit by a bus.
I sigh, and turn on my radio.
“Naaaaa, na na na na naaa, na na na na naaa, na na na na naaa…”
It’s Crocodile Rock, by Elton John. If only Leanne were here to listen.
I pick up my guitar and strum a few chords, then tune it, not happy with the way it’s sounding. I repeat the procedure, then play along with the song on the radio. It’s my way of relaxing after a somewhat stressful morning.
“Home,” I call out to Mom, who…isn’t here. Hmm. I guess she’s at the store, buying her food. That’s probably where she is
. Maybe I should call her, but I just don’t feel like it.
I look around, taking in our cluttered little kitchen. It’s not much, but it sustains us well enough. Connecting to it is our dining room, which isn’t much better. We never have guests over for dinner so we never bother to make it look nice. It’s a pain in the butt, as Leanne would say. Well, as she would say if she disliked cleaning. The only reason she doesn’t clean it much is because she never has any time. Our living room is in front of our eating area, along with a tiny bathroom. These we make look somewhat presentable, because this is usually the only part of our house that guests ever see. But most of the time it has laundry and sheet music scattered everywhere. Oh, and cat hair. Our cat sheds a lot, and we don’t vacuum often enough. Speaking of our cat, where is she? I haven’t seen her in a few days. Oh well.
The stairs are on the side of the kitchen closest to the front of our house, and I climb up them to get to my room. It’s right next to Leanne’s. She keeps hers nice and neat, but mine’s a pigsty. The fact that it’s small just adds to the messiness. Everything stays in its general area, but within the areas I can never find anything.
Now I’m searching for a notebook, which Leanne gave to me for my birthday last year. I still haven’t used it.
Aha! There it is! Triumphant, I pull it out from under my old school stuff and flip it open. I head the paper:
Odd Things That Have Happened This Summer
Then I continue to write underneath it.
Some new neighbors moved in who happen to be Dad’s siblings.
Telsa hinted at the fact that she’s not human…?
Mom has been having random moments of saneness.
I once played the guitar for an hour or more without realizing that I was playing.
The new neighbors – well, one of them – has been talking about ‘sides’ and other weird things like that.
I frown and chew absently on the end of my pen. I think I named everything. I should have Leanne form a list and we can compare.
Well, now what?
Leanne’s gone to who knows where, Mom’s out shopping, Telsa just kicked me out of her house, and all of my friends are gone on vacation together. Mom wouldn’t let me go with them. Apparently they’ve been having a lot of fun without me – they only bothered to send one e-mail, which compromised of (and I am not exaggerating):
Hey Leo,
Wish you were here. It’s really fun! Hawaii’s the best. See you in July!
- Mark, Adam, Teddie, and Orland
Yeah, and that’s all they sent. They’d better be back soon.
Maybe I can go exploring Leanne’s room. I haven’t been in there for years. This could be fun.
I silently open the door and creep into a well organized, very neat room – all, that is, except for her bed. It looks like she was thrashing around like an eel last night and forgot to make the bed before she went and disappeared. The furniture even matches – it’s all composed of dark brown wood, and everything else is a dark purple, like her bedsheets and the walls. She has a few posters of bands she likes posted around the place. They’re old posters, because Leanne always likes older songs – hey, I didn’t know she liked Elton John! I always thought she liked 50’s music. What has she been hiding from me all these years?
Then I see her laptop.
Grinning in a very evil way, and with a nasty giggle to match, I flip open the top of her white MacBook. Photoshop Elements is open to one of her projects. It’s an odd one – a picture of a guy that looks like me is open. It looks like an almost perfect replica, but with deliberate mistakes…hey! It’s Dad! She did a picture of Dad! I don’t know how she knew what he looked like, but hey, that’s Dad. Amused, I open up her other file.
It’s rather sad and gruesome, actually. A guy in a car getting hit by a bus, like Dad. Why the heck would she do that?
I just sit there and stare at it, confused.
After a while I leave her room, carefully returning her computer to what it was like before I came along. I go back into my room and add something to my list of strange things.
Leanne drew two weird pictures, one of Dad and another of a car getting hit by a bus.
I sigh, and turn on my radio.
“Naaaaa, na na na na naaa, na na na na naaa, na na na na naaa…”
It’s Crocodile Rock, by Elton John. If only Leanne were here to listen.
I pick up my guitar and strum a few chords, then tune it, not happy with the way it’s sounding. I repeat the procedure, then play along with the song on the radio. It’s my way of relaxing after a somewhat stressful morning.
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kaitlin_mckitrick on November 25, 2009, 7:36:03 AM
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