The Magic Sisterhood

Don't Drop a Bombshell When I Can't Tweet About it

 The door was knocked, once, twice, three times. Then all the Jones' could hear were heavy and frequent footfalls mixed amongst the heavy lashings of rain. Then crying. Robert ran to open the door and was shocked by what he saw. His wife, Ceinwen, could have burst into tears of joy when she saw what was left at their doorstep.

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 Clare Jones was not sure what she was expecting when her father told her he had big news for them. She and her mother gathered around the kitchen table. Clare felt irritated that her dad made such a big fuss over everything, that he demand they all be in the kitchen when he was late for this so-called family meeting. She slid her iPhone out her pocket and refreshed 'Tumblr' to see if anyone put anything new in the 'Light x L' tag.

 The door slammed open and Robert sat himself down.

 "Clare, put your phone away."

 The blonde teenage slid the phone back in her pocket and swiped away the drool from her mouth.

 "I lost my job. Henry says I haven't made a successful deal with my clients in over three months."

 "But dad, you only have this apartment because of your job!" Clare cried. The sweet images of yaoi left her head at the prospect of leaving London. There were cons here almost all the time, fandom shops a plenty, work, sweets, gangs and mugging. Life here had a possibility to be exciting and there was more than that. Clare had lived here her whole life. She grew up in this apartment. The crayon on the walls from when she first learned about drawing. The stain on the living room carpet from the time when she threw an ink cartridge across the room. The first time she stumbled onto an M-rated fanfiction. This place was her memories.

 "I know, Clare. We're going to have to move."

 "But where?" Ceinwen asked, eyebrow lifted. Robert sighed.

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 The ride had been long and rainy and somewhat foggy. But they arrived, right at the ugly cottage somewhere in rural Wales. It was raining, it wouldn't be Wales (trademark) if it didn't rain twenty four seven. Ceinwen chuckled slightly when she saw the cottage, a distant glimmer in her eye.

 "This place certainly brings back a few memories, doesn't it?" Robert called to Ceinwen.  Clare looked at her parents. They both gazed at the cottage with small smiles feathering the edges of their lips. Nostalgia settled between the two.

 "Am I missing something?" Clare asked.

 "This is the cottage where I grew up," Ceinwen replied.

 "You're Welsh?"

 "My name is Ceinwen Jones, of course I'm bloody Welsh, and haven't you heard my accent?"

 "You just don't talk about your childhood a lot," Clare mumbled.

 "I talk about Wales all the bloody time, Clare. You've just always got that bloody phone in your hand, you never listen to anything me or your dad say about when we lived here. You spent the first few months of your life here before your dad got called out to work with the London firm."

 "Whatever."

 Robert chuckled before pushing in a box of stuff labelled, "family memories."

 The interior was a cobwebbed mess, that had sadly not remained untouched by the cruel hand of time. Or maybe it had always looked like such a mess, Clare didn't remember the ugly cottage. The dusty old cottage had an upstairs with a bathroom, and two bedrooms. The cottage was cramped and ugly.