a Beast's song of fire and stone

New home, New Start

The environment was overcast and chilly in Maine during this time of year. The air was filled with a sense of dullness. The sky was a monotonous shade of gray, and not a single ray of sunlight could be seen. A gentle breeze drifted through the air, bringing with it the aroma of an impending downpour. There was a perceptible feeling of disquietude in the atmosphere, akin to the stillness that precedes a tempest. A dark green station wagon lumbered up Dulack Drive during the month of May.

The station wagon was an old, battered vehicle, with rusted out spots and faded paint. It was a faded forest green color, the kind that was popular in the sixties. Despite its age, the wagon was still holding together, the frame and engine were still in good condition. They pulled up to the large wrought iron gate of the old Spiderwick estate. The iron gate loomed high above the station wagon, its once-gleaming surface now tarnished and mottled. Intricate spirals and curlicues had been twisted into the iron, although years of neglect had turned the once-beautiful patterns into a tangled mess. The gates had a rusty scent and an air of faded grandeur.

A woman stepped out of the station wagon to unlock the gate and pushed it open. The gate creaked in protest as she pushed it open. The rusted hinges groaned and the iron gates shuddered, then slowly they began to move. There was a loud scraping sound as the bottom of the gate dragged across the gravel driveway, leaving a trail of dust in its wake. After what seemed like an eternity, the gate was finally open wide enough for the station wagon to pass through. She then got back in the vehicle and drove through. The car then stopped on the rock driveway. The station wagon's doors opened. A fifty-one year old Helen Grace stepped out from the driver seat, then fifteen year old Mallory Grace stepped out from the passenger side seat. In the back seats the two ten year olds, Jared and Simon Grace stepped out.

Behind their car pulled in a red Duesenberg 2 Model SJ Torpedo Phaeton. As the Duesenberg pulled up to the gate, the engine made a low rumble. The wheels crunched against the gravel driveway, sending small stones scattering in all directions. out stepped a slender twenty year old Aine Grace stepped out. her door creaked open as she pulled up her sunglasses and exclaimed, "It's beautiful!"

"It looks like a shack." Mallory said, looking at the estate with distaste. "Tch. More like a slab heap ready for demolition." Jared scoffed. In reality, it was neither of those things. It was more like a large four story building that was cream and gray in color. It had several balconies, several chimneys and a few towers. It had a stone staircase leading up to a green and purple ivy upon the door on one side. It had a strip of iron fencing up on the roof, like a garnish hat. It gave Aine more a classic gothic vibe to her than shabby.

"Mallory! Jared! How could you say such a thing?" Aine reprimanded with a glare. Their mother patted Aine's shoulder with her hand. "It's not that bad guys. The last time I was here I was just about your age Jared." Helen said, with a slightly forced smile. "It may look a bit odd, but it's Victorian." Helen and Aine watched as Mallory, Jared, and Simon made their way across the lawn. Helen turned towards Aine, and smiled gently. "Aine, can you do something for me?" Helen paused. "What do you need from me, Helen? I'm more than happy to help, just ask." Aine replied softly.

"Well, for one thing, stop calling me Helen. Sweetheart we've been over this. You are allowed to call me mom. I want you to." Aine opened her mouth to object something but Helen interrupted her. "Don't listen to what Jared says. You are just as much my daughter as Mallory is. You are my daughter, being adopted doesn't make a difference. I need you to remember that." Helen replied gently, pulling Aine into a hug. "I'll try to remember that He- I mean mom." Aine replied, returning the hug. "What's the other thing you needed?" She muttered.