Places you leave behind are never entirely gone. I’m not sure if you’ve noticed this yourself yet, but if you’ve ever moved you take pieces of that place with you. It may be a refrigerator magnet spelling out in cheery colors the name of the place you left behind or a jar of Pliffa beans that only grow in Outer Mongolia. If you touch that item and close your eyes tightly enough, you can be back in that place you left behind. There’s a sense of “there” that you can never fully get rid of when you hold on to old things.

The Richardsons had been in their new home for exactly seven days, and they were still in the midst of unpacking.  The Richardsons believed in the proper placement of their items, so it would probably take them weeks to finish unpacking. Back when they lived in Upper Eastton they hadn’t even finished all of the unpacking when it was time to move.

The house looked entirely different than it had on the day that Mrs. Miggleston had given them the tour. Half-empty boxes and collapsed, empty boxes lined most of the rooms and Jack’s room was no exception. Jack didn’t mind too much though. After all the previous moves that the family had made, he was quite used to it.

Jack’s room had been made up in blues and greens with sensible brown splashes.  Mr. Richardson had explained the need to suit a  male pallet in the room and Mrs. Richardson, who had gotten her way in almost every other design choice had relented.

The chief feature of the room was a large bay window that the backyard and the woods beyond. Mr. Richardson, whose carpentry skills were renowned in New Tokyo, had fashioned a window seat for Jack. Mrs. Richardson had sewn a cushion out of a green and blue-striped material. The brown curtains with the maple leaves stitched along the edge in an even darker brown were also Mrs. Richardson’s creation.

Jack’s bed sat high off the ground, just as he liked it. Underneath were two dark black steamer trunks with shiny silver fasteners. To the left of his bed was a small walnut nightstand with a personal LED lamp. The bottom of the lamp stand was an open box with a fake rock for Igor that heated up when Jack flicked a switch.  Opposite the bed was Jack’s pigeonhole desk. It was stuffed with old homework papers and drawings. Jack also had a shiny black laptop. Much to his dismay he had no Cortex access, but the laptop had come in handy when working on school reports last year.

Jack sat cross-legged on the floor of his new bedroom, holding a red and black toy zeppelin. It was like the one he had seen at Andrew’s Air Force Base when he was 7. His fingers slid along the tin toy and he remembered the day his father had bought it for him. The sky had been filled with hot air balloons, biplanes and, of course, The Blackhawk Zeppelin. It had looked strong and menacing as it glided through the sky. Everything else had looked tiny and insignificant next to it. Jack could almost hear it asking him, “Am I not the most powerful thing you have ever seen?” He had felt safe. It was a different kind of “safe” than he had felt before. It wasn’t the “safe” you’d feel when you wake up from a nightmare and your mother comes and holds you. This was a “safe” that vibrated through him and made him swell with pride.”

“I can’t believe you still have that,” Kendra said from the doorway of his bedroom. The tone was more in awe than it was mean spirited, but Jack felt compelled to be defensive.

“Aren’t you supposed to be unpacking?” Jack asked. He stood up and looked at his sister.  She had changed out of her traveling dress and was now wearing black shorts, a short purple skirt and a purple and white peasant shirt. She had forsaken her dark straw hat and had put her hair up in a bun at the back of her head. Jack could see tiny fluffs of white flowers and sparkly strings poking out of her hair.  The cooling system had not been turned on in the house yet, and both Jack and Kendra were trying to keep cool.

Kendra shrugged. “Mother and Father are out finding a lamp for the second parlor since it doesn’t have any gas lamps. They said to tell you they would be gone for a couple hours.”

“Oh,” Jack said and set the toy on a bookshelf. Jack had 5 bookcases in all. Thankfully the bedrooms in the Espenson house were rather large, so Jack could keep them all in his room. In their last house he had to make do with shoving them into the narrow hallway outside his bedroom door. Having all of his books in his room with him made him feel oddly secure. He slid a finger along the edge of one of the shelves already lined with books. Jack made sure they were all lined up properly just shy of the lip of the shelf. Mr. Richardson, being an expert in paper, had explained that the books were living things. They needed room to breathe. You can’t just shove them back against the wall; you need to give them their space.

Suddenly there was a large crash from upstairs that sounded like glass and something heavy colliding. Kendra hurried over to Jack protectively, not sure where the sound came from at first.

“It’s upstairs!” Jack said.

“But there’s no one upstairs,” Kendra said looking at the ceiling as if it could give answers.

“We should go look,” Jack said. “Maybe one of the chickens got into the rooms upstairs and got hurt.”

“I doubt that,” Kendra said slowly. “But, maybe it’s the gardener? If he’s hurt he may need help.”

Jack grabbed his backpack, yanked out his flashlight and hurried toward the staircases before Kendra changed her mind.  He stopped off in the kitchen to grab the large iron key that opened the doorway between them and the staircases. Kendra had barely come out of his room when he returned with the key. He flashed it at her with a smile and started towards the parlor and the locked door.

“Wait!” Kendra called. “I need a flashlight too!”

Jack dropped his backpack on the ground and fished around it. “Here!  He produced a second flashlight. The flashlights were exactly the same except one was blue and one green.

“Your flashlights are the same color as your room?” Kendra asked. Jack just threw her a look.

“Come on! Lets go.” Jack bolted for the door. He stuck the large metal key into the door that separated him from the stairway. Kendra peered over his shoulder as he did so. He could smell the light strawberry scent of her shampoo and wrinkled his nose. Why do girls have to smell? It had never made much sense to Jack.

As soon as the door was open Jack ran to the stairs. Jack wasn’t really running as much as “walking quickly”, but once he actually saw the staircases he stopped so abruptly that Kendra ran into him from behind.

“Ow,” Jack said, more out of habit than actual hurt. With your siblings, you tend to say “Ow” more than mean it. His not-really-in-pain “Ows” had saved him more than once from being picked on by his sister. Jack figured it was some kind of unwritten rule. It’s almost as if half of your time with your sister or brother was some kind of contest to see who could get the other injured, or in trouble first.

“What is it?” Kendra whispered. Her eyes hadn’t yet adjusted to the darker front room. Both Jack and Kendra flicked their flashlights on. Jack shined the light on the staircases. The steps were missing. In their place was a smooth, inclined plane.

“What?!” Kendra exclaimed grabbing her flashlight tighter as she raised the light to point up to the second floor.

Jack looked carefully at the steps. The sheer absurdity of it all was incredible. He bent down and ran his fingers along the wood. The same red carpeting he had sceen on the staircase ran down the middle of the slope, it was almost as if –

“These are the stairs,” Kendra said, pointing her flashlight up. “They’re just,” she searched for a word like Ponce de Leon and his mythical fountain.  “Flat?”

“Flat?” Jack slowly stood and looked up into the darkness of the second floor. “But how?”

Kendra didn’t answer for a while. She walked around the base of the not-there-staircase. Jack sighed inwardly. How could they climb up there? He flirted with the idea of a rope, but it gave him bad flashbacks to a summer camp he had attended where they said, “rock climbing is fun!” Taking them at their word Jack had attempted the climbing wall. Halfway up Sticky Wilson, who had been below Jack, had tied Jack’s laces together. Losing his footing, Jack started to fall. The young counselor, Jefferson, hadn’t been paying attention to Jack. Instead Jefferson was busy flirting with a female counselor. As a result Jack hit the ground so hard he could have sworn he saw cartoon stars above his head. Thankfully the floor was heavily padded, but still it hurt. Ever since then Jack had vowed to never trust camp counselors or climbing ropes.

“Help me look, Jack.” Kendra’s voice broke through Jack’s memory. He looked over at her. She held the flashlight high, pointing down the side of the banister. She was methodically groping along the side of the stairs with her fingertips.

“Look for what?” Jack asked as he reached into his backpack and found his last stick of Fizzle Gum. While popping it into his mouth, he missed Kendra rolling her eyes in exasperation.

“A switch to turn the stairs back on.”

Jack hadn’t thought of that.  Sometimes, he thought, sisters can be really smart.

There was another loud crash from above their heads. “Oh my goodness!” Kendra said. She sounded so much like their mother that Jack had to try not to laugh. The seriousness of their situation took the laughter away, however, when they heard a loud yell followed by another crash.

“Oh, where is it?” Kendra’s fingers searched a paneled sidewall. Her flashlight bobbed against the darkness. Jack tried to swallow against the rising panic in his throat.

“Help me Jack!” Kendra said. “Someone could be in trouble.”

Jack didn’t bother to tell her there wasn’t much they could do if there was real trouble. Instead he spun in place slowly as his flashlight moved around the walls.  The purple wallpaper looked different in the harsh glow of the flashlight. Jack noted that the room was full of threes. There were three staircases. Three doors that led to other parts of the house. Three umbrella stands. Three switches on the wall. Three switches? Jack jumped up on his toes to look at them better.  All three were cast-iron animals with a small switch in the center of the ironwork. “I found something!” Jack said, calling over to Kendra who was already examining the second staircase.

Kendra walked over, shining her flashlight on the switches. The first switch looked like a frog and the second looked like some sort of crane. Jack grimaced when he saw the third one – another platypus! As if the doorknocker hadn’t been enough.

“Which one is it?” Kendra said eyeing the switches. “I think this is where Mrs. Miggleston turned on the gas lamps. But we can’t turn those on; they light up the whole house. It could scare whoever is upstairs.”

Jack considered that this might not entirely be a downside, but he didn’t tell Kendra that. Instead he closed his eyes and tried to think. “I can’t remember.”

Kendra examined the switches more closely, nearly bumping Jack out of the way. “This one looks more worn.” She pointed towards the slight discoloration on the frog-shaped switch. “It would make sense if this one was for the lights; that’s the switch you’d use the most. Not the ‘make-the-stairs-impossible-to-climb’ switch. Jack laughed a bit at this.  “That leaves the crane and the platypus.”

“Does something seem off with the platypus?”

Jack inched forward, standing up on his toes to peer down at the platypus. The metal sheen of the platypus was newer than the other two switches. It had an almost glossy texture to the surface rather than the rougher metal found on the first two. “Is it plastic?”

Kendra reached out and stroked the switch with her index and middle finger like you would pet a cat. “It is! I bet that’s the one. It’s new.”

“But why would you someone make that kind of switch?”

“I don’t know.” Kendra shined her light up the stairs. “Maybe because of the earthquake? So they don’t get sued if someone gets hurt or lost upstairs.”

Jack wasn’t sure about that either, but he didn’t comment. Instead he flipped the switch and there was a soft whirring. The flat boards started to move, rising like when you open the blinds.

“You found it!” Kendra exclaimed. Within seconds the flat planes were restored to three proper staircases. Both Jack and Kendra raced up the “up” staircase as Jack had taken to calling it.  Running up the stairs took effort, for it was rather a long staircase. At the top of the second floor landing they both stopped and listened.

Jack focused, trying to picture in his mind where the sounds had come from. The house was eerily quiet. Even when Jack had explored the upstairs that first day he hadn’t thought it was this quiet. Jack could hear Kendra’s short breaths, a distant clock ticking and his own blood racing in his ears. The hallways stretched in front of them and behind them almost as if they had landed in the middle of an Escher painting. Jack wasn’t sure where to go next.

Jack was just about to ask Kendra what she thought when a third crashing sound made them both snap their necks up toward the third floor. This crash was filled with the sound of glass breaking and wood splintering.  They hurried up the stairs to the third floor of the house. They were about to run down the hallway, when a sharp yell stopped them dead in their tracks

“Could you be any stupider?” A voice rang out.

Jack’s eyes went wide. It was Mrs. Miggleston! The screech was unmistakable. He looked over at Kendra, whose brows were pushed together in her concentration. They both peered down the hallway. The sounds were coming from a room not far from where Jack had stopped by the attic ladder. Even though his heart was pounding, Jack inched closer to the door where he had heard the voice. Kendra hesitated. She had started to grab at Jack’s shirt to pull him back, but then decided to follow him.

The long hallway stretched out in front of them forever. It was as daunting as the long stairs Jack used to navigate to his math class. Since he hated math class the trip on that staircase was particularly lengthy. Jack trudged along thinking how odd it was that just a couple weeks before he had relished being up here. Now he was nervous. What was Mrs. Miggleston doing? Why had she sounded so mean?

Just then there was a long sound of splintering wood. After that there was a man’s heavy grunt and another sound of cracking wood. Jack tried to imagine what the sounds were.  The grunting continued as whomever it seemed to struggle with his task. “Come on, Grison! Put some shoulder into it,” another male voice said gruffly.”

So there were at least three people in the room beyond. “Be QUIET!” Mrs. Miggleston bellowed. “Those Richardson brats are downstairs and they’re too curious for their own good.”

“Too bad we need them,” a third voice said. Jack imagined this was Grison who had stopped grunting. “Otherwise…” He let it drift off.

“Later,” Mrs. Miggleston snapped. “Focus on the task at hand. The sooner we find the Agauegis, the sooner we can be done with those officious children. Jerry, help Grison with the final box.”

Kendra inched forward toward the door. Jack watched her move, not breathing. The shadows seemed longer now. The little bit of light that filtered through the slats in the giant shutters revealed the descent of the dust onto the floor. Kendra’s soft soled shoes made little noise on the dark red carpeting. Jack noticed, for the first time, the chalk X’s that Kendra said she had seen. Sure enough, five of the doors in the hallway were marked with a white chalk X on the right side of the doorframe.

Hisssssssss. Jack blinked. He could have sworn he had just heard a snake. His eyes darted around the room quickly. He saw nothing except Kendra who was trying to look through the keyhole. Jack looked everywhere on the floor, but saw nothing. He hurried over to Kendra. He was just about to push her out of the way so he could see through the keyhole when the doorknob jiggled.

“Lets get going,” Mrs. Miggleston said. “Bring that crate, I bet Bob will have a lock pick for it.” The door started to open and Kendra nearly fell backwards in surprise. Jack reached out to steady her, but her loss of balance caused both of them to tumble to the floor.

Horror filled Jack as he realized there was no way the three behind the door couldn’t have missed the sound of them falling.

“What was that?” Jerry said, a bit loudly.

“Probably one of those chickens,” Gregson said. He grunted, like he had just lifted something, but a loud crashing sound followed almost immediately.

“Idiot!” Mrs. Miggleston bellowed. “Haven’t you done enough damage today?” The floorboards squeaked and they could hear her move away from the door.

Jack took advantage of the distraction and grabbed Kendra’s arm. They darted towards the nearest room and barely had time to hide behind the door when Mrs. Miggleston stepped out into the hallway.

Despite his rising panic, Jack had managed to leave the door open a crack. He knelt on the floor so Kendra could also see out. Once he was down he shifted himself slightly so he could see Mrs. Miggleston. Her gray hair was pulled back into a ponytail and her dress was covered with dirt and grime.  Mrs. Miggleston marched into the hallway with an air of authority. It reminded Jack of Artie Wilson when he had been chosen to be hall monitor. He tried not to giggle thinking of Mrs. Miggleston in the ridiculous hall monitor outfit Artie had to wear.

“Can’t we use the elevator?” Grison whined as he came into Jack’s view. Grison was a portly, short man with dark brown hair that poked out of a soft gray cap. He too was covered with dirt. There was a dark smudge of coal on his cheek and cobwebs in his hair. He was obviously out of breath and straining under a large wooden crate that he was carrying while walking backwards.

“I’ve told you a hundred times. The elevator is so loud the Richardsons would hear it.”

“But they’re gone.  You said so yourself.” Grison shifted the box uncomfortably.

“Please boss, otherwise we have to listen to Grison whine all the way downstairs,” Jerry said diplomatically. Jack craned his head slightly so he could see Jerry better. Jerry was taller than Grison, but had a similar build. He didn’t seem quite as out of breath as Grison though, and held tightly to the other side of the wooden crate.

“Fine,” Mrs. Miggleston said as she crossed her arms. “Richard will not be pleased with your laziness.”

Both men fidgeted with the box. Their eyes dropped to the floor and they mumbled something Jack couldn’t quite make out. Mrs. Miggleston sighed and then reached into her pocket. She drew out a deep red handkerchief, the ring of keys they had seen the week before, and a small piece of white chalk. Mrs. Miggleston took the chalk piece in between two of the fingers of her left hand and drew a quick X on the doorframe.

“I will be so glad to be rid of this house,” Mrs. Miggleston grumbled as she shoved the piece of chalk back into her pocket. She wiped her face with the handkerchief and started walking down the hallway. Jack and Kendra moved back further in the room so they wouldn’t be seen. She stopped in front of the doorway that Jack and Kendra were standing behind.”

Hisssssssss.

There it is again. Jack blinked. Out of the corner of his eyes he saw a dark shadow move. Don’t panic. Don’t panic. Don’t blink. Kendra must have heard it too because she grabbed his arm so tightly he could feel her fingernails digging into his skin. The room they were in was too dark to see much. There was a soft orange glow coming from one of the corners of the room, but it didn’t help with making out more than dark shadows.

Hisssssssss.

The shadow moved again. Jack, despite his best efforts, panicked. What could he do, he couldn’t turn on the flashlight for fear of alerting Mrs. Miggleston.

“Didn’t you boys close this door?” Mrs. Miggleston’s voice had a distinct were you born in a barn sound to it. “You’ll let Edward out.” There was a solid click as Mrs. Miggleston pulled the door shut. It echoed in Jack’s ears like a death sentence.

“Sorry boss,” Jerry said with a gulp.

Edward? Who was Edward!? Jack shivered. He silently prayed that Jerry, Grison and Mrs. Miggleston would use the elevator. Especially if it meant they would leave faster. Thankfully God must have heard him because the floorboards creaked and soon Jack couldn’t hear them anymore.

Jack let out a breath he hadn’t known he was holding and scrambled to turn on his flashlight. As soon as he had, he wished he hadn’t. There, inches from his face, was a dark yellow snake.

No related posts.

Related posts brought to you by Yet Another Related Posts Plugin.

I’m not sure if you’ve ever dealt with realtors, but this was the fifth time the Richardsons had to deal with one and it was getting very tiresome. It’s not because there’s anything particularly wrong with realtors, but it’s much like having to see dentists – the more you see them, the less you want to.

The Richardsons, you see, constantly had to move for Mr. Richardson’s job. As lead salesmen for a fiber optic paper mill, Mr. Richardson had the distinct privilege to move often. Jack had always heard Mr. Richardson describe it as such. Privilege. Well, the most recent privilege meant that the Richardsons had to move from their Nigerian bungalow in New Tokyo to Totleigh Terrace. It was a move that Kendra Richardson hated the most.

Jack was increasingly worried about his family. They no longer seemed happy. Maybe they would stay in Totleigh Terrace for some time. Start having game night again. He used to love game night (even if Igor did cheat at Yahtzee).  Jack’s mind was full of these thoughts as they left the house. So much so that he didn’t see the figure looming in front of the door and, consequently, Jack ran into her.

Mr. Richardson popped his head around the large lady. “Oh Jack and Kendra, did you find the chickens?”

“No father,” Kendra said stepping to the side to avoid running into the strange woman the way Jack had.

“This is Mrs. Miggleston,” Mrs. Richardson said.  “Mrs. Miggleston, these are my children: Jack and Kendra.”

“And who is Jack?”

Jack blinked. It wasn’t often that people were confused about who the boy was in the Richardson family. He thought it was pretty clear himself, but he decided to be polite. “I am, Mrs. Miggleston,” Jack said extending his hand.

Mrs. Miggleston sniffed. “Well, Jack, you shouldn’t be in the house without me. I was going to give a grand tour.”

Mr. Richardson cleared his throat. “We don’t want a grand tour, Mrs. Miggleston. This is clearly not the house we agreed to rent when I was here three weeks ago.”

“The house you requested has disappeared. This is the only one I had available. You can’t sleep outside, now can you?”

“Disappeared?” Mr. Richardson exclaimed.

“Outside?” Jack asked.

“Only one!” Mrs. Richardson said.

Kendra didn’t say anything; she just looked around for her new chicken friend. She found the hen sitting in the middle of the lawn, looking quite content. Kendra knelt in the grass beside the bird, spreading her ruffled skirt around her. Jack laughed to himself when Kendra did that, because it looked like she had no legs. Smiling at the thought of Kendra and the chicken, Jack looked up his parents talking to Mrs. Miggleston.

Mrs. Miggleston pursed her lips like adults are wont to do when something is “unpleasant.” Jack sneaked away slowly. He knew that look. It meant a long conversation.  He knew if he waited long enough he could sneak back into the house and discover exactly where those chickens had been hiding. Unfortunately, his parents and Mrs. Miggleston had chosen to stay right in front of the front door. It would be hard to sneak past them. Jack took off his jacket. The sun was already overhead and it was getting hot.

“Here, give that to me Jack,” Mrs. Richardson said.

Jack sighed for two reasons. One, because his mother fussed about him losing his clothes and two, because this meant she was watching him. How will I ever get back upstairs? Jack thought.

Jack handed his jacket to Mrs. Richardson just in time to hear Mrs. Miggleston say, “As you know, the economy has been taking a downward turn. It hasn’t quite hit the big cities yet, like New Tokyo, but small towns like this are feeling the effects.”

Mr. Richardson squinted his eyes. “You mean, it’s the Great Crash again?”

There was a short laugh from Mrs. Miggleston. Jack had studied the Great Crash in school. Even though he hadn’t understood it all, he did know it was not very funny. It was a time back when Jack’s grandfather had been born. The Grand Exchange, where people traded money for some reason that Jack still hadn’t figured out, had crashed. Suddenly, like flipping a switch, no one had any money any more. Jack swallowed.

Mrs. Miggleston put a hand on Mr. Richardson’s arm. “Nothing as dramatic as that, I assure you. The houses will return when the economy gets better. You remember twenty years ago? Just a bump in the economy, nothing drastic.”

Jack listened intently, wondering to himself how many times one could say economy in the span of two minutes. Mr. Richardson started to say something, but then changed his mind. Instead he asked, “Why hasn’t this rental gone then? If all the other houses have?”

“Well, this was rented up until a week ago,” Mrs. Miggleston said.

“But, it’s all dusty inside,” Jack said without thinking. He clapped a hand over his mouth.

Mrs. Miggleston frowned, almost glaring at Jack. Then she seemed to remember herself and smiled warmly. “Aren’t you a clever child? Why yes, it is dusty. We live near the Whedon Flatlands.  A good strong gust blows through here and everything gets dusty fast.”

Jack had the sinking suspicion that Mrs. Miggleston was lying. He kept the suspicion to himself, like one would the feeling of really hating someone you’re supposed to like. Telling someone would be futile because, as everyone knows, kids have very little authority when it comes to “Right” and “Wrong”. Something about just surviving to a couple more birthdays gave you the privilege of really commenting on the rightness or wrongness of a situation. Kendra, being first born, seemed to have a fast pass to this ability, but Jack would have to wait a good long while before anyone would believe him.

“Shall I give you the tour?” Mrs. Miggleston said, waving a hand to the front door.

Mrs. Richardson sighed. It was a subtle gesture, but Jack saw it. “Kendra, stop touching that disgusting bird and come along. Mrs. Miggleston is taking us on a tour.”

Kendra huffed, but stood up. Stickle berries clung to the black material of her skirt. “Oh Kendra,” Mrs. Richardson fussed once Kendra had walked up to the porch. She proceeded to brush at the stickle berries, attempting to dislodge them. “And your new dress.”

“It’s too hot anyways,” Kendra said, unbuttoning the top collar of the dress. “If we were in New—“

“Hush now.” Mrs. Kendra said her voice dropping into a harsh whisper, cutting Kendra off. “We’ve discussed this. We are not in New Tokyo, we won’t be in New Tokyo. We’ve moved. I don’t want to hear about it again.”

Kendra’s eyes flashed, but she stayed quiet. The tension in the family was electric, but Mrs. Miggleston still seemed cheery. “Welcome to Epson House,” she said. “Built over 100 years ago, the Epson House is one of the first houses in Totleigh Terrace.” Mrs. Miggleston opened the door and the Richardsons stepped inside.

“Oh my!” Mrs. Richardson said. Mrs. Miggleston pressed a button on the wall by the door and L.E.D. gas lamps flickered to life. Jack noticed so much more about the front room now that the lights were on. The wallpaper was gilded with dark green vines and dark purple flowers.

Jack grabbed his mother’s sleeve. “Look Mother, purple!” Purple was the Richardsons’ favorite color. Jack wasn’t sure when the family decided this, but it was a decision they had made long before Jack was born. Personally, Jack was more fond of the green in the twisty vines.

Mrs. Richardson walked over to the wall and traced it with her gloved fingers. She nodded approvingly. “This will do Gregory,” Mrs Richardson said as she turned towards her husband.

Mr. Richardson smiled for the first time in days. “I’m glad you approve, Meredith.”

Jack wanted to do a dance of joy. He knew that look that passed between his parents. They were staying! Jack snuck a glance at Kendra. Kendra looked happy! Jack could barely contain himself. The Richardsons continued examining the front room, under Mrs. Miggleston’s watchful eye.

“Is she watching us?” Kendra said, once she had made her way over to Jack. The two stood in front of a tall bookshelf full of economics textbooks.

“I think so.” Jack tapped the side of his glasses. They silently shifted so he could view behind him. The glasses were like rearview mirrors and he watched Mrs. Miggleston who was intently peering at their parents. “But why?”

“Maybe she’s worried we won’t take the house,” Kendra said with a shrug. “Mother and Father haven’t told her yet.”

Jack tapped his glasses again. He wasn’t so convinced. He moved over to the Cortex computer he had seen earlier. “What an old Cortex terminal.” Jack remarked. “Is it wired?”

“No, you won’t be using this one. It’s really more for show.” Mrs. Miggleston replied. “Shall we tour the rest of the house?”
“Must we climb all those stairs?” Mrs. Richardson asked looking up at the three staircases. Jack looked at the stairs as if for the first time. He tried to see what his mother was seeing. With the gas lights turned up he could see that the carpet on the stairs was extremely threadbare. His eyes traveled up and down each staircase quickly. Several of the steps were warped and there was a section of the left staircase that was completely missing. She thinks it’s unsafe, Jack concluded.

“It doesn’t appear sound.” Mrs. Richardson said to Mrs. Miggleston. Jack allowed himself a smug smile.

“Oh no! No one goes upstairs.” Mrs. Miggleston’s voice dropped deeper, but she attempted to still sound cheery. The overall effect gave Jack chills. “There was an earthquake about fifty years ago. The upstairs needs many repairs. You really should stay down on the first level of the house.”

“Is it safe to live here?” Mrs. Richardson said.

“Completely safe.” Mrs. Miggleston assured. “Just keep the children from wandering upstairs. You know how children are. Curious.” Her upper lip curled and Jack once again caught sight of her gold tooth. He tried not to stare, but he couldn’t help himself. Gold teeth were extremely unusual since the invention of the holo-projector. Movie stars, now being seen in all three dimensions in their movies, had insisted on even better dental work. True to form, much of the Eastern and Western world had followed the celebrity’s lead.

“And I wouldn’t want the children to damage anything.” Mrs. Miggleston explained. “The home is a historical landmark.”

Mr. Richardson stepped closer to Mrs. Miggleston, pulling himself up to his full six feet height. “I assure you, Mrs. Miggleston. Kendra and Jack are very well behaved children.”

Mrs. Miggleston waved a hand. “I’m sure they are, I wasn’t implying anything else.

Jack snorted and Kendra shoved an elbow in his ribs. “Ow,” he hissed.

Kendra seemed unaffected by his pain. Jack rubbed the spot that she’d elbowed and looked up the staircases. The flickering gas lamps only made the staircases more inviting. He couldn’t believe that Mrs. Miggleston had said upstairs wasn’t safe. Then, a thought occurred to him. “What about the chickens on the roof?”

Mrs. Miggleston looked surprised. “How did you know there were chickens on the roof?”

“One fell earlier,” Mr. Richardson said. “It’s quite all right, but a bit dazed.”

Shaking her head Mrs. Miggleston’s eyes darted up the stairs as if looking for someone. “They’re cared for by the gardener. He has a ladder system to get to them. So you don’t need to worry. Come, I’ll show you the bedrooms.”

I’m sorry to say the rest of the tour was almost as boring as Totleigh Terrace, which the Richardsons explored after they looked at their new house. For some reason the first floor of the house was, in every which way, normal. Jack couldn’t believe his eyes as they went from room to room. The bedrooms were empty, not lushly furnished like the room he had seen earlier with Kendra. There were no strange stairs or large oil paintings. Even Igor, who was normally an unflappable reptile, looked bored with the house.

To top it off, there was just so much of the house. There were 10 bedrooms, a study, a library, a parlor, a kitchen, a dining room, a game room and a rather large pantry that was approximately the same size as Jack’s last bedroom.

“Just close off the rooms you won’t be using,” Mrs. Miggleston said, as they concluded the tour in the back yard. “It’ll save your heating and energy bills from running too high.” Mrs. Miggleston pulled a large ring of keys out of her pocked and flipped through them. “Here, I’ll close off this door to the front room. Most residents use the back door anyway.” Jack watched sadly as Mrs. Miggleston locked the door that lead back to the staircases.

At the sound of the click of the key in the lock Jack grew despondent. There never was a time to slip away from the adults and now his chances of seeing the attic and the roof were, in his own words, slim.

“I presume, we will get a copy of that key? In case of emergencies?” Mr. Richardson asked as he watched Mrs. Miggleston.

Jack’s heart leaped. Verbal confirmation that they were staying and the promise of a key to get back upstairs! He was so happy. He must have been grinning, because he realized after a few seconds that the muscles in his face hurt.

Mrs. Miggleston, however, did not look as amused. “Of course,” she grumbled. “I’ll see to that right away.” Mrs. Miggleston smiled, but it didn’t meet the corner of her eyes. It’s like when you have to tell someone you really like that electric-blue hand-knitted sweater they made you for Christmas, Jack thought. “I’m so glad you are staying here.”

“Me too.” Jack said softly.

Mrs. Richardson, who had mother-ears, heard him and ruffled the top of his head. “Get in the car children, lets get something to eat before Igor starts licking at the dust on the floor.”

That was all Jack needed to hear. In all his excitement he forgot that his stomach was growling. They hadn’t eaten anything since the last rest stop. The place had smelled of raccoon and soggy newspapers, so Jack hadn’t eaten much. “Yes, Mother!” Jack said happily. He scooped up his pet Iguana, grabbed his jacket from his mother and hurried out to the car.

It wasn’t long before Jack was peering out the side of their convertible motorcar at the main street. So far he had seen a music store, a hardware store, a salon, and a fiber optic paper store. “Is that where you’re working, Father?” Jack asked, pointing at the store in question.

“Why yes,” Mr. Richardson said. “See how close it is to the house? You can come visit me.”

Jack liked that idea. Often Mr. Richardson had to work late and did not return until after Jack was already in bed for the night. “May I come after school?” Jack asked.

Mr. Richardson smiled at that thought. “Only if you bring some cookies,” he teased. It was a well-known fact that the male population of the Richardson household loved cookies with an undying passion. In fact, one day Mrs. Richardson declared that Mr. Richardson should have just married a Chocolate Chip cookie and had tiny cookie babies. This outburst only made Kendra roll her eyes.

Jack adjusted his glasses. The sun had caused them to go dark, but had also made it difficult to see everything. This was his favorite part of moving, after all, the exploring. The Richardsons were grand explorers of new places. They often found the spots that other people missed. At a garden party in New Tokyo they had asked the Emperor, “Have you ever visited Wong Chung’s Museum of Oddities and Sealing Wax?” The Emperor, who had lived in New Toyko all his life, blinked in surprise. He had never heard of such a place! The Richardsons took him there the next day.

“When is the pod truck coming?” Kendra asked. Her mood had improved dramatically after being inside the Espenson House. It was almost like the weather had been in Antontown. Jack remembered that it was so fickle that it could be raining in the front yard and sunny in the back yard.

Mrs. Richardson consulted her watch. Jack, who was sitting behind her, leaned over her seat to see the screen. Mrs. Richardson held the watch up to her mouth and said, “Delivery.” Then she set the watch back down to consult it. The screen blinked from showing the current time to black. Then it whirled to life, scanning through Mrs. Richardson’s messages.

Finally it stopped on one of the messages. A small, tinny voice, said, “Delivery will arrive at half past two.”

Kendra nodded. Jack grinned. “Mother?”

“Yes, Jack?” Mrs. Richardson touched the top of her watch and the screen resumed a normal clock face.

“When may I—?”

Mrs. Richardson turned in her seat to look at Jack. The movement made jack stop his question abruptly and he sat back in his chair. “Jack, you know full well that your father and I do not want you to have Cortex access wherever you may be. It’s not safe. When you’re older you may have a Cortex watch.”

Jack sighed. Adults always seemed keen on keeping the good things for themselves. Jack wondered if this was also a reward for living a long time. If so, having ice cream for breakfast, eating rippled eggs every day, and riding the zeppelin to school were also rewards.

Despite this, Jack knew his parents were very generous. He did spend more time on the Cortex than most kids his age. Mostly corresponding with friends from places they had left. Jack’s favorite person to talk to was Mr. Gilleous, who lived in Austria. Jack was only four when they left Austria, but Mr. Gilleous, their downstairs neighbor, who adopted their pet parrot, kept in touch. The parrot, named Winston, had always been at home in the climate of Austria. Often Mr. Gilleous would send photos of Winston’s adventures. Only last week, the two had attended a fancy dress ball. Winston had even sported a top hat for the occasion.

“Oh!” Kendra said. “There’s a Coffee Star.”

Sure enough, the familiar green and white colors of the chain store appeared to the left of the car. “Anyone want to stop?” Mr. Richardson teased. This was, if you hadn’t already guessed, a rhetorical question. Mr. Richardson knew his entire family loved Coffee Star almost as much as they loved purple.

Mr. Richardson parked across the street from the store and everyone hopped out. Kendra’s face was glowing now as she climbed out of the motorcar. Since the top of the car and the windows were both down Kendra hadn’t bothered to open the small door, but instead crawled over it.

Mrs. Richardson sat in her seat still, waiting for Mr. Richardson to open her door. “Kendra Lilian Richardson!” She exclaimed. “You are not a tomboy, open your door.”

Kendra pretended not to hear her mother, but examined her hair in the shiny gold lantern that hung off the side of the car. Kendra smoothed her hair and readjusted her hair while she waited for Jack to climb down.

Jack, who was never one for climbing, opened his door. He scanned the other auto cars parked on the street. Some serious black Model A’s lined the street by the town bank. There were also a couple sporty Mustangs by what appeared to be a café. One the whole, however, most of the cars were hybrid cars. There wasn’t another convertible in sight. And none of the town’s cars were painted in bright, metallic red and gold colors like their car.  Jack sighed and hoped, for the fifteenth time since he knew they were moving, that they would fit in to this town.

“Lets go Jack.” Kendra said watching her parents who were already heading across the street. Jack took her hand. Not because he was a huge baby or anything like that, but because he wanted to ask her about Mrs. Miggleston. Kendra’s lacy gloves were itchy, but he kept a hold.

“Why do you think,” Jack whispered, as they crossed the quiet street, “Mrs. Miggleton doesn’t want us upstairs?”

Kendra looked thoughtful. “I don’t know. It’s obvious someone’s been upstairs.”

“How did you know someone has?” Jack said. “Everything was so dusty.”

“Don’t you ever pay attention? Remember the holo-show about the crime scenes?”

Jack nodded and tried not to scowl. Of course he paid attention.

“There were footprints in the dust by the doors. And someone had drawn chalk X’s beside the door frame of the room I looked at.”

“What does that mean?” Jack asked.

Kendra stepped in line behind their parents. The Coffee Star counter was polished so shiny she could see the large brim of her straw hat in it. There was just a hint of the dark gray ribbon that encircled the side brim. “I don’t know, Jack,” she said softly. “But we need to find out.”

No related posts.

Related posts brought to you by Yet Another Related Posts Plugin.

If you were to visit the small town of Totleigh Terrace, in the middle of Benoza you’d find a sad looking family staring at a large, run-down house.  Why you’d want to visit Totleigh Terrace is beyond me, but if you were to take a trip to this small village in the middle of nowhere I’m sure you’d be struck with how extraordinarily boring it was (as are most small towns). Oh, and, of course, the family gazing up at this impressively awful house.  The family would be the Richardsons and the house was supposed to be their new home.

The reason for the Richardsons’ current state of disappointment was that the house was entirely wrong for them.  To start with it was three sizes too large.  It leaned to the left and everybody knew that they were more of a right-leaning family.  The eaves were wrong too.  They had specifically requested purple.   Mr. Richardson declared the current color was, in his words, “much too much muchness.”  Mrs. Richardson agreed.

There was something weird with the front steps. It was not that they particularly minded the steps, but they were quite concerned with the snicker-snack sound the steps made when you stopped on the bottom stair.   It wasn’t how steps should sound.  At least it’s not how Kendra Richardson, age 13, thought they should sound.

The biggest worry was the roof.  It wasn’t the grand, wire weathervane rooster that bothered them (though it did frighten their pet iguana, Igor).  It was not the crumbling chimney place where a family of swallows was nesting.  Nor was it the roof shingles that moved when even a light breeze wafted through the neighborhood.  No, what concerned the Richardsons the most were the tin-penny nails.   It was a small thing, but most things usually were.

The Richardsons were one of the few families who understood that the Great Battle of Hera had been lost because a cheap farrier had used tin-penny nails to shod the calvary horses. In the midst of the attack the horses lost their footing and pulled up lame in the middle of a great snowstorm. Tin-penny may be  fine for just any family, but the Richardsons weren’t just any family.

Mrs. Richardson broke down crying when she first saw the home.  Jack Richardson, age 10, was the only member of the family not entirely disappointed.  Of course, he wasn’t overly thrilled with the front door’s brass knocker shaped like a platypus, but he could live with it.  Being the youngest of the Richardsons he had never particularly been afraid of leaning to the left and the numerous rooms of the new house only sparked his imagination.

After sending a certified dispatch (Mr. Richardson always believed in certifying things, which had left their last dog, Bernard, in a terrible state last Easter) the family declared they should wait for their realtor on the front porch so they wouldn’t get attached to the unsightly place.  Jack murmured his agreement after crossing his fingers behind his back. He was a smart boy and knew it was better to simply agree with the majority when they were in such a state.

Mrs. Richardson took to fanning herself with a tiny Chinese water fan.  The mist it generated through the use of hydraulics was refreshing.  Jack craned his neck a bit to catch some of the droplets. Igor flicked out his tongue

Jack attempted to start a conversation with his parents, but they only answered with one-word answers or looks. Apparently, upon becoming a parent, you are taught a series of looks that can dishearten any child in less than five seconds flat. Soon Jack fell silent himself. He stared at the porch, trying to amuse himself by counting the number of circles in the grain of the wooden planks. They were painted an impossible gray color and, in several places you could see where the sun had made the pain crackle and start to peel. The paint was smooth to the touch otherwise, the boards must have been sanded to a smooth finish because Jack couldn’t feel the ridges of the wood grain. Jack was just on twenty-eight in his count of the rings when Mrs. Richardson started huffing. She huffed, then clicked her tongue, and then huffed again.

“I thought you had arranged things, Gregory.” Mrs. Richardson said fanning herself as if she could use the wind power to fly away from the dreadful house.

Mr. Richardson, who was never a very loud man, said very quietly. “I did, Meredith.” Mrs. Richardson just sighed.

I don’t know if you’ve ever sat on a front porch with a collection of angry relatives, but Jack imagined it to be much nicer to be sitting in front of a firing squad.  Of course, he had never done either before today so he couldn’t really say he was an expert of any sort. He tried to picture a firing squad out on the massive front lawn. There he would stand bravely, with a blindfold on and the men just about to shoot. Then there’d be a fantastic explosion and he would escape into the woods behind the house.

The scene was an enjoyable one, but when he had finished playing it out in his mind Jack realized, once again, how frightfully boring he was. Jack had wanted to sit in the front porch swing, a dirty whicker bench that was covered with grime and dust. It was probably white once, but now looked more like the gray wood under Jack’s feet. Despite the faded Indian print of the cushions and the strange dark color discoloration on the left cushion, Jack was willing to risk the germs. The problem was Mrs. Richardson was not. “Don’t even think of sitting on that porch swing.” Mrs. Richardson said without turning her head. How does she do that, Jack thought.  Instead of the swing Jack opted to sit on one of the front porch steps behind his mother.

Kendra smiled sympathetically at her little brother.  “You want to play a game, Jack?”

“What sort of game?” Jack said squinting into the yard.  “It’s too warm to run.”

“How about I Spy?” Kendra said.  “You can start.”

Jack considered the offer.  He loved starting; it filled him with an inordinate sense of power.   It was much like keeping a secret or knowing where the last jar of marmalade was on baking day.

“I spy something that begins with the letter—” Jack did not get to finish his sentence for, at that exact moment, a rather large chicken fell directly in front of the Richardsons. It produced a very loud squawk as it hit the concrete.

“My word!” Mrs. Richardson proclaimed, dropping the Chinese water fan.  The fan sparked as it hit the concrete, but no one seemed to notice.  All of the Richardsons, including Igor, were staring directly at the very fat, very alive hen that lay on the sidewalk in front of them.

Jack pushed himself up off the stair and slid farther away from the strange creature.  “Where did that come from?”

Mr. Richardson, always the leader, stepped forward until he was almost beside the chicken.  He removed his large silk top hat and squinted up at the sky.  “The roof?” he muttered to himself.  Then he turned to his family and drew himself up.  “The roof,” he declared, as if Galileo himself had given Mr. Richardson the knowledge.

Kendra stood up slowly, adjusting the brim of her black straw hat, and cooed at the bird.  “Don’t be frightened.  What a nasty spill you took.”

“Don’t touch that filthy creature.” Mrs. Richardson put her hand to her mouth.  “Who knows where it’s been.”

“On our roof,” Jack mumbled, straining his neck a bit as he watched Kendra inch forward towards the chicken.  Secretly he was jealous of her sudden bravery.  She reached into the pocket of her dress and pulled out a crumbled piece of banana bread.  She pinched her fingers and gathered some of the crumbs.  Deftly she tossed them near the chicken that had just found her footing.  The bird seemed to flinch and then hesitate.  Finally she seemed confident enough to stretch out and peck at the offered crumbs.

“Well, I never,” Mrs. Richardson said.  “What a perfectly good waste of banana bread.” Kendra gave her mother one of those looks tinged with unbelief and exasperation.  Her mother, as mothers are wont to do, ignored it.  “Do you think there are more?”

The question was pointed at Mr. Richardson, who was still squinting up at the roof.  “No way to be entirely certain of that,” Mr. Richardson said without shifting his gaze.  “Not without visiting the roof, of course.”

Kendra had, at that moment, squatted about a foot away from the chicken in question.  She smiled at it.  “Do you have friends upstairs?”

The hen just clucked.

“We should investigate,” Jack said finally.

“No one is going anywhere until the real estate agent comes.  We’ll leave it to her to sort out the chickens on the roof.” Mr. Richardson set his top hat back on his head and returned to the front porch.

“But father, what if another one falls? What if it kills someone?” Jack asked, picking up a stray stone that had wandered up to the porch.  He briefly considered its out of place-ness.  How had it come so far? Perhaps it had hitched a ride on someone’s shoe.  It may have been slung by the neighborhood holo-projectionist.  Jack could not be entirely sure.  All he did know was that he wanted to throw it back into the tall grass of the lawn.

“You know as well as anybody that a chicken falling would not injure anyone.” Mrs. Richardson said as she picked up her Chinese water fan.  She frowned at the object.  It had stopped spraying its fine mist.  “These things are so poorly constructed.”

Mr. Richardson patted his wife’s shoulder.  “No fears, Meredith.  Once we are out of this town we shall find you a proper fan.”

Jack felt the pull of investigating. He hadn’t been scared of the house like he had been of the chicken. Houses don’t have claws, Jack thought. Still, he wished his parents would come with him. The house was three stories tall and impressively looming over his head. Finally he decided to act, like Kendra had with the chicken, and be brave. While his parents were busy fussing over the fan, Jack slipped into the house.

Kendra kept feeding the chicken.

As Jack entered the house he noticed how dark everything looked. The sunlight filtered through the closed shutters, but the corners of the rooms were filled with shadows. Thankfully Jack was a Gopher Scout and their motto was, “Have everything handy.” Of course, this meant having to carry a very large backpack full of useful things that Jack thought were UNuseful most of the time.  Today though, he was glad to have his favorite flashlight. He reached in the bag and pulled it out, shining the light around the room.

The front parlor wasn’t anything extraordinary. It appeared to be normal, if not dark and dusty. There was a large grandfather clock, some small tables and chairs, a Cortex computation terminal that looked about fifty years old, a an umbrella stand.

Jack hadn’t realized how difficult it might be to find the roof in this massive house, but he figured one must go up. There were three large, nearly terrifying staircases that encircled the front parlor. Carefully Jack stepped forward and started up the center staircase. The steps, not unlike the front step outside, made very peculiar sounds. FIT-gh! One step seemed to say. Yo-RO! Another step creaked. The sounds were very distracting. Despite this Jack was able to make his way to the top only to discover the staircase led straight into the ceiling.

“What an awfully useless staircase,” Jack grumbled as he headed back down. He didn’t seem to notice the stairs stopped making noises.

Upon reaching the bottom of the useless staircase Jack looked left and then he looked right. The other two staircases stretched up into the darkness and Jack couldn’t see where they might lead. He was trying to decide which one to choose when Igor slipped through a crack in the wall.

“Igor!” Jack was very glad to see his pet iguana.

“Ssssst,” Igor responded with a flick of his long tongue.

Jack pointed the flashlight at the left staircase. He thought about how his parents hadn’t liked the house at all and how the entire house seemed to lean to the left. He decided to try that staircase. He reached into his backpack again and pulled out Igor’s leash and harness. It glowed bright blue and Jack didn’t want to lose Igor in the darkness.

“Here you go Igor,” Jack said adjusting the harness and putting Igor on his shoulders. It was Igor’s favorite place to be and he snuggled into Jack’s backpack. “Lets go find those chickens.”

Igor just blinked.

The two started up the left set of stairs. These stairs made no strange sounds, just creaking as normal steps do. As Jack climbed he noticed some of the portraits hanging on the wall. They were massive oil paintings of men and women and sometimes children.  Jack passed his flashlight over them. He recognized some of their old-fashioned clothing. Large, flowing skirts and puffy sleeves adorned most of the women while bowler hats and curly mustaches were on most of the men. The fashion was at least 100 years old.  How old is this place, Jack wondered.

At the top of the stairs was a large painting of the house. It looked a bit better than it did now, not so much lean and a row of beautiful red rose bushes lined the outside fence. The shingles were straight, painted a respectable beige color and the front door knocker looked more like the Chinese symbol for hope than a platypus head. Best of all, there was not a tin-penny nail in sight.

“Wow,” Jack said to Igor. “If the house looked like this now, I think Mom and Dad would like it better.” Jack traced a finger over the dust on the frame and a thought occurred to him. “I bet we can make the house look like this again.  Maybe then we can stay.” He gazed at the painting for a while then remembered the chickens. He turned and pointed his flashlight around until he found a hallway that looked promising.

Jack and Igor made their way down a skinny hallway. There were rows and rows of doors, but no clear sign how to get up to the roof. They turned a corner and saw another hallway. This one had a row of windows lining the left wall and another row of doors lining the right. “Wow, how many doors are there?” Jack was sure he’d seen at least twenty.

He was just about ready to give up when Igor climbed on his head. Jack reached up to capture the iguana and, while doing so, spied something hanging the ceiling. It was a red cord, no thicker than Jack’s finger. It dangled in fancy loops that were coated with grime and dust.

“This has to be it,” Jack said to Igor. He picked the Iguana off his shoulders and set him by a nearby door. Then, stepping on tiptoes, Jack reached for the cord. After missing it a couple times he was able to capture it and carefully yanked on it. A set of stairs, almost like a thick ladder descended slowly from the ceiling.

“Whoa,” a voice behind Jack said. It was Kendra.

Jack nearly jumped out of his skin in surprise. “What are you doing here?”

“Mom saw you were missing and told me to come find you.” Kendra gazed up into the attic. “What are you doing?”

Jack pointed his flashlight up the steps. “I’m trying to see if there’s more chickens.”

“Well,” Kendra said slowly, tearing her eyes away from the attic. “We can’t look now, the agent is nearly here and if we aren’t there to meet her mom is going to blow a gasket.”

Jack always pictured his mother as a robot when Kendra said, “blow a gasket”. It made him laugh. Mrs. Richardson, like most mothers, always seemed on the verge of blowing a gasket. Jack wasn’t even entirely sure what a gasket was, let alone how someone would blow one. What he did know was that his parents were already cranky and, as much as he wanted to look at the attic, Kendra was right; they’d have to head back. Jack promised himself he’d come back when the adults were talking.

“Can we keep the chickens if we live here?” Jack asked scooping up Igor and setting the iguana back on his shoulders.

“Probably not,” Kendra said dismissively. “We’re not staying here.” Big sisters always seem to do that, Jack thought. He could have the best idea in the whole world and his sister would always dismiss it as silly or impractical. Jack figured it wasn’t because she was mean, just being bigger she often forgot the wonderful things kids know. She was too close to being an adult. They seemed to forget anything was wonderful.

The pair headed back to the front room.  “Why would anyone need so many rooms?” Kendra asked. She opened one of the doors. Golden sunlight streamed into the hallway. She shaded her eyes and squinted into the room.

Jack shrugged. “Maybe it was a big family.”

“Even the Prisocks don’t have this many children. And they have over a dozen.” Kendra sucked in her breath as she her eyes finally adjusted. “Look at this.”

Jack stepped forward and peered around Kendra’s full skirt. His small, circle-shaped glasses instantly tinted to protect from the bright sunlight. The room was large and furnished. Deep-colored satin materials in various golds and creams were draped along the walls. A large dark chestnut bed with four spire shaped posts sat opposite a marble fireplace.

“Someone rich must have lived here.” Kendra said. She instantly fell in love with the room, especially after she caught sight of the soft, fur blankets that draped the bed. “Maybe a holo-star.”

Jack squinted. He tried to imagine his favorite actor, Hercule Nightmore, living in this house. Somehow, it didn’t seem to quite fit.

“Jack! Kendra!” Mr. Richardson’s voice echoed from down the stairway.

“Coming father!” Kendra called loudly, making Jack cover his ears. Kendra reluctantly closed the door and stepped down the end of the hallway and waited for Jack to catch up since he had the flashlight. “Stop dawdling.”

“What does that mean?” Jack said, stopping to examine a picture hanging between two of the doors.

“It means,” Kendra started. She paused when she realized she didn’t really know. “It just means hurry up. The real estate agent will be here soon and then we’ll be going to our real new home.”

“I want this to be our new home.” Jack was sure of that statement. More sure than he was that he loved rippled eggs and bacon. “I like it.”

“Well, it definitely is interesting,” Kendra admitted. “Whoever lived here was an eccentric.” Kendra stopped at the stairs and looked down. She carefully gripped the railing and stepped down slowly. The stairs made a horrible racket. They squealed and grumped with each step. The sounds were loud, echoy and nearly deafening. Kendra put her hands on her ears. “Why is it doing that?”

Jack stood, mystified, at the top of the stairs. “I don’t know, it didn’t make those sounds when I came up.”

“We can’t go down these stairs,” Kendra said. “It’s just too awful.”

“There’s another set.” Jack pointed his flashlight to the opposite staircase.

“I thought there were three staircases. Where’s the middle staircase?” Kendra asked.

“It doesn’t go anywhere.” Jack said with a shrug. Kendra said stepping back up the steps. They made no sounds as she walked up. “How very odd.”

“Maybe,” Jack suggested. “these stairs are only for going up.”

“Whoever heard of such a thing? You can only go up these stairs?” Kendra shook her head. “That’s ridiculous.”

Jack had already run off to the other staircase. He stepped down the steps slowly and then stopped on the third one. He started back up and the stairs started making all sorts of grating noises. “See!” Jack pointed at the staircase. “This is the going down staircase!”

Kendra just laughed. “This is an awfully strange house.”

Jack nodded vigorously and waited for Kendra to catch up. The two descended the staircase.

“What does the middle one do?” Kendra asked when they finally stood at the bottom of the stairs.

“It goes nowhere,” Jack said. “I climbed it early, it stops at the ceiling of the second floor.”

“Well,” Kendra finally declared after thinking for a moment. “I guess it’s not so strange that there’s a chicken on the roof.”

Jack laughed.  Igor flicked out his tongue again.

“Looks like Igor’s hungry.”  Kendra petted his head.

“Me too,” Jack said as he pulled opened the door.  “Let’s hope this goes fast so we can go eat lunch.”

Stepping out of the doorway, Jack, Igor and Kendra were greeted by a stern, older woman in a bright red dress with huge purple flowers. Jack looked up. She had a large mole on her neck that seemed to be jiggling with anger. She opened her mouth to speak and a flash of a gold tooth sparkled in the sunlight. She towered over the children and glowered down at them. “What were you two doing in there?”

No related posts.

Related posts brought to you by Yet Another Related Posts Plugin.

Warner Bros. Consumer Products, on behalf of DC Comics, and action sports event producer, ASA Entertainment will be hitting Venice Beach with the 2010 Supergirl Jam! Celebrating women athletes, Supergirl Jam will be a inline skating and skateboard competition. My parents saw it last year and it looked like a blast!

For more info be sure to follow Supergirl on Twitter (@wbsupergirl) and Facebook (http://facebook.com/dcsupergirl) for live updates from the main event.

Not in California? The event will be live-streaming at http://bit.ly/b9kJy3.

I have been hired by Warner Bros WBWord division to raise awareness for the Supergirl Jam. For exclusive coverage of the Supergirl Jam, please visit: http://bit.ly/b9kJy3

No related posts.

Related posts brought to you by Yet Another Related Posts Plugin.

I’ve had my own 3G iPad for a little over two months now and I get it the bad rep it gets. If you’re bored or tired of talking you can simply slip out your iPad and play a game or check email. Our great-grandfather and mothers would probably take it as the height of rudeness (after they got over how shiny it was).

And yet, you don’t hear a lot of folks talking about the ways it brings people together. My iPad travels with me everywhere, I take it out everywhere and I use it a lot. There’s three or four pages of apps that you have to flip through (in landscape mode). So I have quite a bit to show off. Inevitably, when I’m out, a total stranger will stop, take a sharp intake of breath and go, “is that an iPad?”

This simple question has been the basis for many a small talk conversation with a waitress, coffee shop customer, or small child. Once I even had a woman nearly run up to the table I was sitting at in Starbucks and bounce with glee, “isn’t this thing wonderful? My husband and I love ours!” Another time, it was a waitress at a restaurant who sat down at my table to talk about how she could use the iPad for a small home business she wanted to start. This past fourth of July my parents and I were playing Scrabble on the iPad (pass and play) while we were waiting for the fireworks to go off. That’s when I noticed that the nearby group of kids had gathered around us.

“Whose winning?” One kid asked.

“My mom is.” I replied.

“Can you read books on that?” Another kid asked (see, kids still like books folks).

“Yep. I have six books on it right now.”

“Ohhhhhh.” The kids said collectively.

“Look, she has an iPad.” One of the boys told another boy who just wandered up to us.

“An iPod?” The boy asked, confused.

“No, an iPad.” The first boy responded. “It’s so cool.”

Later, as the evening went on, the kids would come up to me and ask who was winning the Scrabble game and peek over at the shining screen. We had several small chit-chatty conversations after that.

Social interactions? I’ve got them.

Or, consider my recent flight where I was playing Boggle. The stewardess (who seemed tired and cranky most of the flight) leaned over and said, “did you get stairs?” When I replied I hadn’t yet, she smiled and was so pleasant the rest of the time.

My favorite story about how social an iPad is comes from friends of our who have 5 kids, all under the age of 14. The four boys gathered around my iPad on their coffeetable and played Plants vs. Zombies for about four hours. Now, if you have’t played Plants vs. Zombies you may miss the beauty of this. Technically it’s a one player game. But the four boys worked together to collect the needed sun, plant the correct plants and watch for invading zombies. There were no squabbles or shoving or pushing (my iPad never was in danger) and it was so much fun to watch them having such a great time.

So yes, I could be a hermit with my technology. I see why folks worry about us isolating ourselves and burying ourselves into our Blackberry (I’ve seen that one way too many times), but I submit it’s not the tech — its the people using them.

No related posts.

Related posts brought to you by Yet Another Related Posts Plugin.

I could rationalize it away and say that it was a high school fantasy. Stick to my strengths (which don’t include a guitar). But somewhere inside of me there is this desire to try and try hard.

So, this morning I went about learning. It still feels awkward when I hold it. Not at ease like a pen or my keyboard. The parts of it still confuse me (though I think I got the idea of frets and am starting to remember which string is which note). It doesn’t feel like home yet. But I want it to.

April a year ago I was riding in the car with a musician friend of mine who seemed amazed that I sang along to songs I didn’t know. I didn’t even notice it. I’ve got songs etched in my subconscious that are wanting to come out.

Notice I never said that I’d be good at it. I know a lot of facts about music (thanks to my awesome mom who added in music education to my homeschooling). I knew some basic piano. But this guitar thing is gonna be something else.

So for now I’ll struggle through the awkward phase of finger placements and strumming. Maybe soon it’ll feel like another home to me.

No related posts.

Related posts brought to you by Yet Another Related Posts Plugin.

Kisses rarely happened like this. Raquel knew this logically and empirically, but standing out in the rain, her hair slicked back and her fingertips freezing, she realized she didn’t care what she knew.

Thomas’ kiss took her by surprise; they had been walking, looking for a bus to take them back to the El train. They had been at a concert, not realizing that the bus they wanted to take back home stopped long before the concert had. Chicago was like that.

An hour after leaving the bar Raquel was near tears. It was dark; the city had turned from its familiar vistas of closed stores and large warehouses into a quiet suburban street. Raquel had stopped under a bus post and tried calling the CTA number on her cell. The overly cheery automated voice and complex menu system only had her more frustrated. It wanted to know where Raquel was and damn, if she knew where she was she wouldn’t need help. She was tempted to throw her cell phone to the ground in utter defeat, but she had already replaced it once and one hundred and seventy dollars didn’t grow on trees. Even if it did, there weren’t many trees in Chicago.

Near tears she shoved the offending object deep into her purse to ward off the moisture that was everywhere. Thomas suddenly took her face in his hands and tilted it upwards. The touch was gentle and firm all at once. Her brain instantly screamed a thousand messages at once (about 90% of them being what the…?) and somehow the air had been sucked out of her body. Thomas had never been the boyfriend. He’d been the fellow student, the co-worker, the best friend and the safe guy. The guy you go to concerts with and eat deep-dish pizza at Gino’s. He was the guy that stands in the rain with you without complaining. Thomas was that guy! Not the kissing in the rain guy!

Despite the icy cold that twisted around her wet socks and nipped at her toes and despite the continued, oppressive rain Raquel melted into Thomas’ kiss. In an instant the hundreds of voices stopped, they washed away with her tears and all she could feel was Thomas. He must have felt her relax and took it as an open invitation; he slipped his hands down and around her body and pulled her into him. They fit together, as if fashioned that way by a master craftsman. Raquel wrapped her arms around his neck and breathed in his cologne. It made her eyes roll back slightly with the sheer, overwhelming power of its scent. She pressed into Thomas with an automatic need to feel him everywhere.

Gone were the mysterious suburban streets, the rain, and the tears that had threatened to spill over. In their place was Thomas. He kissed as if he could feel her heart sing in his ears. He tasted like cherries and, on further exploration, the rum drink he had earlier at the bar. She sampled and tasted his mouth gently, letting him lead her on the journey. Wrapping fingers in his short, dark hair, she found herself needing to breathe, but not wanting to let go. There were quiet murmurs of pleasure that escaped both of their mouths and a short break as they collectively took a breath before plunging back into the euphoria of the kiss.

A yellow cab drove up slowly and there was a small whirl as the automatic window slid down. “You kids lost?” A voice called from the cab. The voice paused. Realizing he may not have been heard, he called out louder. “Need a ride?”

Raquel’s eyes blinked slowly, as if waking from a dream. She had heard the cab drive up. Somewhere in the back of her mind a voice had said, hey idiot there’s a cab, but she didn’t break free from the kiss to investigate the noise. Now, with his second shout, the cab driver had fully awakened her and Thomas.

Thomas broke free slowly, touched his finger to her lips and had then turned and informed the cab driver they would like a ride. Raquel slid into the cab almost reluctantly and visibly cringed when the door closed. Thomas slid his hand over hers and squeezed it causing ripples of warm, euphoria to flood through her body again. She relaxed against the seat as Thomas kissed her again.

No related posts.

Related posts brought to you by Yet Another Related Posts Plugin.

No related posts.

Related posts brought to you by Yet Another Related Posts Plugin.

Poizner previously said he supported legislation that gives schooling to children of illegal immigrants and he supported Former President Bush’s plan to give illegal immigrants a path to immigration.

I don’t get involved in politics too much, but I do believe in stepping up for illegal immigrants in this country and if there is one hot topic that will push my voting buttons.. it’s this.

*******

Dear Steve,

While I was actively excited about your campaign I am most distressed by your current comments about illegal immigration. I’m a 28 year old, white, single voter (you know the people who got Obama elected). And while I am fiscally Republican and believe in most of the Republican party I’m shocked and dismayed that you think illegal immigrants are here only looking for what the government can hand out.

Illegal immigrants do not need the welfare system to want to come to America. When the average person in Mexico makes $5 a day, the USA is a welcome harbor. I wish you would instead focus on how to make illegal immigrants legal, tax-paying citizens instead of condemning a group of people to being little more than common sewer rats.

At this point I can not give my support to either you or the rapid-attack dog Meg and will probably vote Democrat on election day.

Sincerely
Tabitha Smith
San Pedro, CA

No related posts.

Related posts brought to you by Yet Another Related Posts Plugin.

Yeah, who I am.
- Nick Jonas and the Administration

No related posts.

Related posts brought to you by Yet Another Related Posts Plugin.