Willow Wood

            Willow Wood

                                                          CHAPTER ONE

I am attempting reading a very good book, filled with dragons and girls who rise up through the ranks; I’ve read it three times and it’s my favorite. But for some reason I can’t seem to get into the story, I’m at the top of a page and have read the first two lines five times. I sigh and close the hardback, won’t be getting any more out of that today.

We hit another bump on the highway and I suddenly decide it’s the roads fault I can’t read, I glare at it, stupid road. It obviously hasn’t been repaved in years, maybe decades. The sun has lightened its color from the rich pavement black, to a contrastingly pale gray. And the white dotted lines that decorate it are so far gone you almost have to squint to see them. And it’s pitted with holes. It’s depressing.

The whole reason we are even on this road is that we’re moving, from the comfort of the city to the wilds of Kentucky, not even in the same state. Mom uprooted us because she wants a new start. Not sure if I’m happy about that but we’ll see.

I look to the side of the highway hoping for better scenery, but not much luck.

All there is as far as the eye can see is fields and fields of grass, drying up in the heat of Autumn, interrupted only by quick little patches of queen-Ann’s-lace and clovers. I sigh again, more heavily this time.

I know it’s not the roads fault that I can’t settle into reading, but it’s nice to be able to blame stuff on inanimate objects.

Staring at the sky I watch as the few white cotton ball clouds float calmly by. One looks like a seal, another like a sword. We hit the millionth bump, this one sending me at least an inch off my seat, and killing my sweet cloud dreams. I heard two little ‘ow’s from the back seat of our cross over. I could understand their pain, my seatbelt had protected me from slamming into the dash but in the process it pulled a death grip on my hips. I’m sure I’ll have bruises in the morning.

“Sorry!” Mom yelped, across from me.

“Not your fault the governor, or whoever, hasn’t pulled it together to fix this pit filled monstrosity.” I defended her, really no need to blame yourself for something you didn’t do.

My little bro, Nate, nodded his agreement, and so did Anihi.

“Thanks guys. I’m trying to avoid the worst of ‘em but in doing so I hit at least two more smaller holes.” As she said this mom let go of the wheel with one hand to pull her hair out of its pony tail. Platinum blond tresses flowed down to a little more than just past her shoulders.

I was always a little in awe of its color, with the look of bottled sunshine. Her hair was soft as a cashmere shirt, and strait, it’s funny because Dad’s had been Ink black, like a ravens feathers, slippery like silk, and curly. Mom and dad had been like night and day, mom being day, dad being night. It hurts to think about dad so I start thinking about Nate.

Nate, well I don’t know what he is, dawn maybe? His curly mop is just as bright as moms, but what surprises people when they see him is that he has a single black streak, when they ask if it’s dyed the answer is; nope.

Nate got the cool lightning strike hair and I got the boring mix.

 More precisely put; light brunette, and wavy. And I had the oddest highlights, golden, auburn, and dark brown. Mom calls it my candy hair. Why, you ask? Well she thinks that my annoying locks looked like milk chocolate, topped in caramel and honey. Weird right? I think so.