Short Story Collection

Chains of Safety (1)

"Marcus," Idria huffed, this time banging on her brother's door, "get up! It's almost time for our lessons, and you know how mother gets when one of us is late."

The eldest Kensington groaned as he turned away from the door to face the wall, putting his pillow over his head, "It's seven in the morning..." his voice trailed off as he started drifting to sleep once more.

"Yeah, but we have to be downstairs by eight, you know that." She waited for his next response, rolling her eyes as she banged on the door again.

Not hearing an answer from Marcus, Idria's brows knit in frustration and she glared at the door. Stepping back, she slowly raised her hands and closed her eyes, focusing her mind on one thing: breaking the door. In a matter of seconds, the door was blown off its hinges, startling the boy in bed. He quickly sat up just as his sister walked inside of his room, one hand on her hip with a smirk on her face.

"There, now you have a reason to get your lazy self out of bed," she said triumphantly.

"You destroyed my door, Idria!" Hearing his sister laugh, Marcus picked up his pillow and threw it at her, which she expertly dodged with a chuckle.

"See you down in thirty minutes."

"Yeah, yeah, whatever."

Marcus stood up from his bed as his sister left his room, stretching before looking down at the broken wood that now littered his floor. He held out his hand, watching as the pieces began to shake, lifting off the ground after a second. Moving his hand in different directions, all of the pieces gathered into a small pile that sat at the entrance to his room to await the moment he went downstairs.

He turned away from the pile of wood and made his way to his bathroom to get himself ready for the day. It only took him around thirty minutes to complete his morning routine, dressing in similar clothes to that of his sister: a loose white t-shirt and black drawstring cargo pants, both of which set off his tan skin. He ran his fingers through his hair, not spending too much time on it knowing that it would get messed up anyhow.

His appearance was much like that of his mother's—brown eyes, dark brown hair—while Idria's was more so that of their father's—light brown hair, and dark brown eyes. People used to say that they looked like twins, even though they were a year apart.

Walking back into the main part of the room, Marcus held out his hand to levitate the pieces of wood above his head as he descended the steps down to the kitchen.

"Nice of you to finally join us." Hector, their father, spoke upon hearing his son's footsteps, looking up at him from the newspaper he had been reading.

"You can thank Idria for my presence," Marcus glanced at his sister as he flicked his wrist, the broken wood flying into the garbage, "she broke my door."

"It isn't my fault you weren't waking up to your alarm. I just did what I had to do to make sure you weren't late, so it is you that should be thanking me."

"'Thank', you?"

"You're welcome."

His glare told everyone in the room how he was about to respond, so as he opened his mouth to do so, their mother, Lydia, stepped in and handed Marcus his plate, "Here, darling. I made your favorite: eggs, bacon, and hashbrowns. Go on and take your seat at the table and eat up; you'll need your strength for what I have planned for today."

With a nod, Marcus snuck one last steeled glance at Idria as he sat across from her to begin eating. A silence overtook the table as the family ate their breakfast, the two siblings kicking each other every so often—it started out serious, but soon turned into a competitive game as most things did with them. Idria went to kick Marcus one last time as she was done with her food, but their father clearing his throat stopped her from doing so.