Crescent🌙

3

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The new bedroom which I stood in was rather lonely, holding no furniture and missing it's previous owners. It definitly didn't feel like my own bedroom, and once it will be decorated I don't think it will either.

Bare walls, white and clean, contrasting to my previous walls which were green and covered in post it notes or revision posters. It's like all colour was drained and I was given a blank canvas, and, in a way, this was a positive. I had a new start.

Walking fully inside, the hard wood floor beneath my shoes creaked and groaned, evidently the house was rather old. It's window sill was cracked and chipped around the edges. My hand brushing over the falling paint on the sill, feeling a small and cool breeze from the edges, the wind creeping inside of the room.

Underneath this window was a cushioned seat, green velvety seat which was built with the house. I thought how it could match long draping, green, curtains that would sit across the seat, and I imagined myself sitting along it, reading my book and occassionally looking through the window.

Out of the window, on a cold and cloudy day, much matching my mood, was another forest. Although the forest was small and there grew birch trees, bright and pretty. This differed from my old forest, where grew great pine trees, which I once loved to walk through. I would just have to learn to love this one.

Faintly downstairs, a mumbled voice, presumibly from my father, asking for me to collect some boxes. Though my body ached and my muscles were falling into a tiresome sleep. The sounds of winds whistling and soft rain patters starting to vibrate across the roof had lulled me further into an exhaustive state.

After such a long and meloncholy drive away from home, I just wanted nothing more than to drown in my covers and not awake until my mind was settled. And lately my mind had felt so disrupted.

Trodding down each step, a different creak with each movement, my hands on the ballistrade keeping me straight. The stairs were furnished with a brown carpet on top, which became more brown as the dirt from my shoes had chipped off onto it.

On the last step, I groggily hopped onto the floor, twirling at the end to face my father. Head turned to look at me, rest of himself busy with a large cardboard box in his arms, holding it with enough power to be able to walk. Struggling though, as he huffed and his arms shook slightly under the weight.

Normally I would help, but body feeling useless, I watched and waited for the box to be put safely down. Crossed my arms, almost chilly I was, the house may have not been well insulated. Or maybe it was the lack of layers I was wearing on this day.

"Phew." He sighed. "Just nine more to go!" He winked at me.

Turning, huffing and face red, my dad left to find more boxes.

"You're not coming to help?" He called from the moving van.

I rolled my eyes, to no one, and trodded to find him. Outside the house, there parked the van in the driveway, door wide open displaying all boxes of different shapes and sizes. And at the very end stood two people, a guy who was helping, and my father. Both were very tired.

My eyes gazed towards the smaller box, which sat at the very end of the van. Picking it up with minimal force, I read the label atop of it, 'painting supplies'. Knowing it was for my mother, I set a purpose to make my way up to her new room.

When walking with the box, the supplies would slightly ratle, echoing in the empty house. This sound, and the sound of the rain, was rather relaxing.

The house was dim, almost dark enough to trip when walking up the stairs, and so squinting I found my way around. And on a dark day like this, it was perfect for my mother who was still able to live through the day without the sun hurting her own skin.