Abridged Ends

Then ≈ One

edited.

THEN              c h a p t e r  o n e

The house was brobdingnagian. A word which means - of huge or tremendous size. I could count about ten windows placed symmetrically above and around the door- which was dark mahogany with delicate patterns carved into it. The walls were faded red contrasting perfectly with the doors and the window panes. The roof, a dark almost black colour, was sheltering three floors- on which I would be spending the remainder of my life in. There were vines creeping up on the walls on the right and left sides of the house- no, not a house: a mansion.

Overall, this place could easily pass for a haunted house or at least an old, ancient artifact because the house was blatantly prehistoric. I was surprised it still stood upright. And the fountain boosted the antediluvian look. A white marble, naked baby cupid spurting water out of his arrow made the place a lot more attractive. Note the sarcasm.

My grip on Rose’s hand tightened. I looked down to see a grin on that innocent face of hers. She was bubbling with excitement; I loved seeing her happy. While this remained my first ‘adopted’ home, this was her first time with a family. She didn’t have anyone apart from me, and now, finally, she finds a father and mother figure. I could imagine her joy.

I, on the other hand, knew the Wesley’s intention beforehand. They only had us adopted to polish their ‘rich yet good people’ image. However, they were far from down to Earth. They nearly bribed the orphanage for us. Initially, they only wanted Rose, but I wasn’t going to let her go so easily. You buy one, get another free. That’s what I had said to them and they had to agree because you won’t find another pair of brown pigtails and bright blue eyes like Rose’s.

So here we were, standing at the doorstep of a mansion that I wouldn’t have ever dreamed of living in.

“Okay, kids. This is it. Your new home - our new home.” I cringed at the menacing use of the word ‘our’ by Mark Wesley as he appeared, wearing a long trench coat and a black fedora. Without sparing us a glance, he pulled out a bunch of keys and set to open the padlock.

Mark and Susan Wesley were as popular as Twilight was to teenage girls. In every magazine there always had to be one article about how the Wesley’s are doing, what Susan Wesley is wearing this summer, Mr. Wesley’s new success or about the Wesley’s inviting two more members in.

They had to move from their palace (hyperbole) in Los Angeles to a quiet, settled, suburban town. Why did they have to give this up?

Oh, just for the children’s up-bringing, they'd said. Apparently, they wanted to give us their everything. How lovely of them. Quite frankly, that statement was pretty scary if you think about it. I mean, they could spoil Rose with so many riches. And I wouldn’t want that to happen.

So, as soon as they found the biggest house in Denville, Rose and I were travelling right across the continent on a private jet, being offered highly expensive and unexplainably unhealthy cocktails.

And right now we were going to see, for lack of better word, our new house.

I tapped my foot impatiently on the ground.  I was growing weary. Who wouldn’t be at this point, since Mr. Wesley could barely fit a key inside a lock without breaking a sweat. Plus, it was going to be midnight soon and we were all caught with jetlag.

At long last, after a while of noiseless feet tapping and shuffling from Rose, the door was open. Hurriedly, I picked my suitcase up with my right hand and Rose’s suitcase with the other, and started towards the door when-

“Excuse me, coming through!” A high-pitched voice came from behind me and I didn’t have to turn around to know who it was: Susan Wesley with her very famous, abnormally, ear pleadingly high toned voice.