Creating Remedy

Chapter Two

Vermillion orange skies with approaching grey clouds making it a matching mood for everyone near the cargo station waiting desperately for a yell from an employer to scoop them up from a land to another. Their expressions were dead, the ones you'd have in a gloomy unfortunate day, all of the looked like they were about to faint as if they haven't eaten anything in a while. Who would in this situation anyway? They had their story deep inside that made their lives turn hundred-eighty degree.

It seemed Lando and I were the youngest family with no parents but that didn't give us looks by others who could've thought we were runaways. Everyone minded their own business ready to leave this now forsaken place.

The station was crowded with different aged people, bumping into each other and kept tugging up their duffle bags as it swayed back and forth hitting whoever was behind them. No one apologized, no one cared. Certainly no one felt heartbroken over crying newborns that were too cold for Scotland's Riverhand's weather; the mothers would wrap them up with every scarf or blouse they wore until they felt like fainting from the spiky breeze. No one watched over the elderly who kept falling when passersby kicked the bottom of the cane making him thud loudly on the floor.

I couldn't stand the sight of that. I was always a helpful hand and ready to do anyone a favor. I wanted to help that man up but the weight of the bags on my back and Lando's stubbornness trying to bite my arm off of him, I had to keep going. I couldn't risk missing the next ship.

"Move it, Lando!" I yelled pulling him by his wrist struggled not tripping on the floor as I paced faster to the man who nonstop yelled "Brooklyn, New York." Lando's heals were the only support for him on the floor making it harder for me to move and push him. None of us wanted to leave Riverhand, we never imagined it would end up like this, but Riverhand only had memories and that is the only valuable thing you can find in the house that will never be sold or taken away. The antique furniture that kept cleaned for 20 years is in the back of my mind. Who would pack a high priced Chinese vase anyway?

There was that lanky tall man with a fedora and a dusty white button up shirt waving small pieces of paper in the air. Never been impressed by tiny scrabbles but it looked like jackpot. People swarmed around him with pleading faces holding their arms up trying to snatch a piece or two. A lady stood inches behind him and for her misfortune -she is begging for a paper- the man's large hand centered her face and forced her backwards falling on her teenaged kids, "You want ticket step in line!" There was no line.

Finally I reached the man still swaying back and forth as if I was in a middle of a wave, "Two tickets please!" I had to repeat it multiple times trying to out his snarky voice. He looked down on me and my brother and yelled Twenty Euros for each. I now realized the struggle of keeping a funded family and felt guilty for asking too much things from my parents the most likely costs more than these simple Twenty Euros.

I pulled out the money and handed it to him. Before he gave me the tickets he glanced at me and my bags, "Five Euro's for each bag."

"That's unfair!" I yelled back.

"Sweet cheeks life aint fair, pay up or go home if you've got one." Already had to throw away another Twenty Euros from my savings.

I snatched the tickets and quickly hid them in my pocket grabbing Lando and squeezing out that suffocative place. The trip wasn't its due yet but making sure we are actually taking this big step we had to get comfortable with our surroundings. The huge wooden board that was a juncture between the ground and the ship itself felt like a risk. It kept creaking and looping to the sides fearing that someone might fall into the water. I held onto Lando's collar and pulled him near me for his skimpy fragile body has more chances to drop in the water than the unleashed puppy that was barking at its owner after getting pushed by the giant luggage and feet.