The Living Package

Unwanted Party Guests

The day reflected Charlotte Duncan's party mood. The sky cast down bullets of rain, as much as it could bring down upon the poor small green house, squeezed between two immaculate white houses. The house was like Charlotte herself, a girl with too little room, in a too small town. Her only place of refuge when her mother scanned the halls for dust mites was the cramped moldy attic. The only sign of decoration was a sad looking poster of a cat, looking into the room with big round glassy eyes.

Charlotte sat in her favorite place in the attic, in the smallest cobweb infested corner, where no one would ever find her. She sat slightly smugly, confident her mother wouldn't be able to drag her down the stairs, let alone find her so that she'd be introduced to the party guests she didn't invite. She had hoped her mother's party guest intuition was excellent, but after one or two suggestions, it had proved hopeless. Charlotte pushed her nose against the cold glass, pressing her palms against the window to stop from crunching her nose. She could see so far across the lake in front of her, how she wished their boat hadn't sunk. After a few blissful moments of the cool glass against her too warm face and the mesmerizing waves lulling her into a state of clam, the glass quickly fogged up, blocking her view. Charlotte withdrew from the window, the sides of her mouth tugging into a frown. "I hate my birthdays." She suddenly said spitefully, ripping the peeling vintage wallpaper near her elbow.

"Lotty! Come down dearie!" called her mother loudly as the clank of dishes resounded through the house. Her mother had probably dropped yet another stack-full of dishes and now depended on Charlotte to aid her. However, Charlotte had enough of cuts and nicks on her fingers, and the unattended party guests so she stubbornly sat back into the niche. A few seconds later, her heart flew into her throat as she heard the attic door creak open, letting fresh air circulate into the room. "Lotty?" asked the very familiar voice of her father. His deep husky tone was far too comforting to her. "Yes father?" asked Charlotte huffily, not wanting to be miffed for too long. "You know you can't keep them waiting for too long, they'll eat all the cake." said her father with a small chuckle as he walked to where she sat. Charlotte looked up at him with big sad brown eyes. "I do like mother's cake...

He offered her his hand and she took it quickly, letting him pull her up. Her father sighed lowly, pulling out the stray cobwebs. "Be careful your mother doesn't mistake you for a spiderweb,  or she might smack you with her feather duster."

A rare smile flashed across the pale teens face before she hopped out the door, hoping he hadn't seen it. Charlotte walked down to the top of the stairs, ready to walk down. However, she paused, her fingertips hovering at the top of the ramp. A mischievous look cam across her face as she hopped onto it quickly, letting go in a heartbeat and sliding down gleefully. She landed at the bottom, ending up unbalanced, causing her to fall flat on her face. Charlotte growled, face meeting cleaning fluid filled carpet. Footsteps came closer and closer until they stopped near her head. "Charlotte Olivia Duncan, what do you think you're doing? I've been calling you for twelve minutes, and don't you dare ride those stairs again." said her mother sourly, prodding her with her pointy red high heels. "Get up." Charlotte slowly rose to her feet, her brown wavy hair falling into her face. Her mother took one look at it and pulled out a hair clip, almost suddenly attacking her head. Charlotte yelped lowly, surprised by it as her mother fiercely tried to tame the wavy mess and clip it into a neat acceptable bun. It nearly worked, only leaving behind a few sad strands of unruly hair. Charlotte shrugged, waving away her hands. "Leave me alone, I'm coming." 

Her mother scowled at her behavior, turning on her heel and leaving her alone in the hallway, heading to the noisy living room. "I thought this was a birthday party." "Where's that sad looking girl? Isn't it her birthday? Why do we have to wait around for her?" She heard the sour sounding voices from inside. She bite her lip nervously, not wanting to approach her bitter guests. A thump however, turned her attention towards the door. She quickly walked to the door, pressing her brown eye to the window. The mailman ran back to his car, holding the neighbors mail above his head to give him some chance against the waging war of raindrops. Charlotte unlocked the door curiously and opened it, eager to see what had been left on the front step. Upon the first step, sat a soaked brown box, with millions of postage stamps on it, like it couldn't make up it's mind to where it should go. She leaned down and grasped the edges, pulling it forwards into the house. At first it seemed like it was feather weight, but later it was no easy task. The brown box unwillingly moved along at a slow pace until it finally made it past the threshold.

As soon as it did, she slammed the door shut, making her mother's head pop around the corner. "Lotty? What are you doing? What is that?" Charlotte's face fell into disgust as she saw on the label. 

To: My darling Niece Charotte Duncan

From: Aunt Gwyneth 

She stood suddenly, regretting bringing the box into the house. "It's just a plain brown smelly package left in the rain too long.I bet it'll only have socks, and loads of them." was what Charlotte said, rolling her eyes as she walked away from it. However, a loud rumbling growl made her freeze in her tracks. "That can't be socks." She suddenly said, her eyes drifting back to it.

"Get rid of it, it's soaking rain into my freshly cleaned carpet."