Bar Harbor has never really been the quaint and quiet vacation town that it paints itself as for the public. The tourists spend all day weaving in and out of the overly priced gift shops that line Main St. While the local kids zoom past on their penny boards. During the summertime, there is no room on the beach, and the streets are filled with the flutter of excited families. I've realized that none of the locals actually like tourists, but simply tolerate them. How they see it, if people stop visiting, then no one will have to pay for parking, and if no one is paying for parking, then there isn't any money for new roads, or a new grocery store, or a park, or things that locals actually care about. But the sad truth is, most of the money collected from parking meters ends up going into more gift shops anyways. And honestly no matter what, if you're the type of person who has enough extra money to come stay in some coastal small town in New England, then you are never going to be welcomed by the people who spend their entire life working for what they have here.
I didn't grow up here, but my dad did. He made it an important part of our summer to come up here and spend at least a week or two staying at his childhood house. But when I was 11 my grandma and grandpa both died within a week apart. My dad inherited the house, but he couldn't bear to go back right away. If my parents hadn't have gotten divorced, I don't think he ever would have. He and his parents were close, they were the picture-perfect family that everyone wished they had. Even me, because while my parents were both very present in my life growing up. The minute the fighting started between them; it had taken up all of their attention. More often than not, everything that was important to me, soon turned into ammo to fuel whatever fight they were having that week. So, when my dad finally couldn't take it anymore, he packed up all of his stuff and left me and my mom in our 3-story house in Clyde Hill Washington, to go live in his family home back in Bar Harbor.
Honestly, I don't blame him, his dads' side of the family had practically invented that town, put everything they ever had into it. There's even a tree named after my great-great-grandfather planted in one of the parks there. My father had no siblings and neither did his father, it was just me and my dad left to carry on the "Van Doren Legacy". But honestly, he probably would have moved back there even if his name hadn't have held so much importance. Bar Harbor is my dad's favorite place ever, always has been. This is ironic because most of the kids born there are dying to get out. It's actually really pretty if you look past all the tacky tourist shit and the unfilled potholes. I think that's one thing everyone can agree on, that Bar Harbor has never been a completely terrible place, well, not never. The only time anyone has ever considered Bar Harbor terrible was the summer of 2011. The summer that 17-year-old Jerry Laughlin was murdered.
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Whisper of Broken Things
Mystery / Thriller17 year old Mathew Van Doren hasn't felt alive in years, he has no friends, his grandparents died, his parents divorced, and his father left him with his mother who reminds him every day that he isn't good enough. When Mathew gets the chance to move...
