Board Thread:Writer's Workshop/@comment-32200119-20170621140750

Harper McKarthie stared out the car windshield, watching droplets of rain hitting up against the glass, and slowly streaking down. The windshield wipers worked aggressively, trying to prevent the watery streaks, but instead, left a smeared blobby mess of rain water in their place. His mother, Laurana, was squinting her amber eyes and leaning into the steering wheel ever so slightly, trying to make her way through the natural disaster. Her chestnut brown hair was cut into a lengthy bob, framing her round freckled face perfectly. While her honey brown embellished bell sleeved top brought out her eyes almost as exceptionally. Every once in awhile she would check the diamond studded watch that hugged her wrist, anxiously muttering under her breath. Behind Harper, sat his ten year old sister, Vivianne. She was sucking her thumb solemnly, it was a bad habit that had followed her ever since her earliest years. Her round emerald colored eyes were enormous as she goggled out the window. Her chestnut brown tresses, which she had inherited from her mother, were left down, covering a good portion of her My Little Pony hoodie and denim skirt. Then there was Harper. He didn't find anything attractive about himself. He had messy, untamable brown hair so dark it was almost black and his eyes were a sea green with hints of golden flecks. He was a sickly pale with a slight rosy blush in both his cheeks. Like his younger sister, he was tall and scrawny for his age. He wore his favorite black hoodie and dark blue skinny jeans with a pair of black and white converse adorning his feet. An open cardboard box filled with all of his belongings sat on his lap. It was a small box, not containing much, a couple t-shirts, a few pairs of pants, some books, and all of his art supplies. The only remainders of his past life, of his childhood. A silver, engraved, framed photograph laid flat on top of the pile. Harper tilted it up. He was standing with his father in front of their old house. A handsome man with the same unruly, dark hair as his son, and the same charming emerald green eyes as his daughter. He was tall and slender, and looked more so in his jet black business suit and plaid grey tie. Thin wired spectacles sat on the bridge of his pointed nose. He had one arm around a small, pale, boy with messy, dark, hair and freckles, and the other holding a baby girl with tufts of her chestnut brown hair in short pigtails. Harper tried to fight back the tears that now burned in his eyes. He took a few deep breaths then set the picture frame aside once again and turned to the window. "You alright, Harper?" He turned around. His mother was looking at him with a concerned expression. "Yes, Mum," Harper said, his voice was always, no matter the event, calm, even, and quiet. There was a long silence. Mrs. McKarthie sighed, but forced a smile. "We'll get a fresh start in this new neighborhood. It's healthy to move on from the past," "I know," Harper said. Mrs. McKarthie cast a worried look to her son. "I worry about you Harper. You haven't been the same since- the fire," Harper knew what she really ment. "He was never really there. He was always away on business trips," he mumbled. "Daddy was there! He was always there. You know he never liked to leave," Vivianne burst, defending her deceased father, her voice straining. Harper knew she was close to tears. "He was there for you," Harper said under his breath. There was a long pause. "I know you two were close. Inseparable even. But, don't you think he would want us to do this, to make a change? Even if it was without him?" Mrs. McKarthie asked slowly. Harper didn't answer. Yes. Of course he would. He always believed in better possibilities. "I know you miss him, Sweetheart. We all do. But it's for the best. Our choices were either to move or pay thousands of dollars to repair the damage of the oven fire. It would have taken years. This is much easier," Mrs. McKarthie said and rubbed Harper's shoulder. The silver Mercedes-Benz slowly pulled to a stop in a gravel driveway. Harper opened his door and stepped out of the car. As much as Harper would like to say it was amazing, it wasn't anything special. A large, blue, three story house, with rotted windowpanes and mossed over siding, towered over the McKarthies. Harper was at a loss for words. This was the house that was going to change his future? He gazed across the neighborhood, gaping at all the new, beautiful, architectural, houses that lined the streets. "Mum, are you sure this is the right-" Mrs. McKarthie smiled. "Isn't it great? It's so historical, takes my very breath away." She said proudly, staring up at the house. "For you, but what if there's pests? Are you this place is safe?" Harper asked confusedly. "I already had it checked. Stop worrying about me, Harper. We'll be just fine." Mrs. McKarthie said and pecked her son's cheek. Harper pushed open his bedroom door. He was greeted by billows of dust and the faint smell of cigarettes. He coughed into his fist and squinted through the clouded room. Cobwebs clung to the wooden bed, which was stripped down to the mattress and was isolated in one corner of the room. Harper's shoes clunked when he walked across the scratched up, mahogany, hardwood floor. In another corner, Harper noticed a wooden, rectangular, bookshelf stuffed heavy with thick, dusty, leather bounded, books. Harper gently picked up one that read Alice's Adventures in Wonderland. He set that one down, wiped his hands on his pants, and grabbed another one titled The Encyclopedia of the World and Everything Within its Atmosphere. He set that one aside, once again wiped his hands on his pants, then looked to the two other corners. One had an old rocking chair and another was his closet. Nothing remained in the closet besides to metal clothing hangers. It wasn't much, but atleast the old owners had been kind enough to leave some of their belongings behind. Harper settled himself on his bed and began picking through his box of his own belongings. He put his music books on the bottom shelf of the rickety bookshelf, along with his others. He hung his few t-shirts in the closet on the surviving, wooden, clothing hangers he had packed from his old home. Harper then stationed his art supplies on top of the bookshelf so it could resemble a desk. He pulled the rocking chair in front of the bookshelf so he could have a place to sit. When he was finished, he analyzed the room. Better than nothing. Harper sighed in defeat and made his way across the hall to Vivianne's room. Vivianne's room just as or slightly less dusty as Harper's had been. A twin sized bed was placed in one corner and stripped to the mattress, also as Harper's had been. The room was painted a dreamy shade of violety-pink, (Vivianne's favorite color, ironically), and a large vanity with an oval mirror was placed up against another wall. Vivianne, was on her knees, digging through her box of belongings. As Vivianne's placed items in her room, Harper noticed that more of her belongings had survived the fire then his. Figures. Harper cleared his throat, hoping to get her attention. Vivianne jumped and turned around. "Oh. Hello, Harper!, " She smiled from ear to ear, "could you help me?" For the next few hours, the two siblings joked and laughed as Harper helped situate Vivianne's room. 