Dream: "I watch in silence as the shadows dance along my wall. Fear grips my throat as one shadow in particular creeps ever closer to my window. Inch by inch, the silhouette begins to take shape. I creep out of my bed to peek out of the window" but before I could see anything, my alarm interrupts the odd dream I've been having since I arrived in Port Michigan, Washington.
"Morning dad." I say kissing my father's cheek as I delve into the full stack of fluffy pancakes. My father, a park ranger and avid hunter and fisherman, is in his mid- thirties. He was nineteen when my mother gave birth to me, a 6 pound 8 ounce baby girl with a head full of brunette curls and eyes so purple that even the doctors were captivated by them. Now it's my turn to be in my teens. Eighteen to be exact.
"Morning, Korinna. I hope you slept well despite all of the dust bunnies. I haven't exactly had time to clean up there." He says flicking his newspaper straighter in front of him. He skims over the news with his brown eyes before grunting in disapproval.
"What is it today?" I ask gulping down some cold milk to clear my mouth. Ezekiel Pierce looks up at me and shakes his head.
"They are wanting to tear down more trees for those big factory towns. I don't know how much more they can take down before this place is nothing but a concrete hell hole." He says in a disgusted tone. See, I'd grown up in Jackson, Mississippi with my mom, Angela Pierce-Drogas, from the age of 2 years until just the other day. Luckily, I'd arrived during a special holiday so I wouldn't have to stress about school until tomorrow. Tomorrow had once seemed so far away, yet here it is.
I stand from the table removing my dirtied plate from it and topping off my father's black coffee. I shudder at the scent. "Dad, do you mind if I take the Alero to town to buy a few more clothes and finish buying the material books I'll need for my classes?" I ask eager to drive as I've my license for a while but not an actual reason to drive many places. He looks at the paper for a few moments more as if pondering it before nodding.
"Just make sure to top it off if it gets below half a tank. Do you need any extra spending money?" He asks already reaching for his wallet.
"No. Mom made sure that I brought some extra money with me and even has an account opened for me for if I get low on money and need to access it." I say as reassuring as I could. I can tell that he feels bad for seeming so poor in his small, two bedroom and one bath home. Every room in the house was small. It's nothing like the four bedroom, three bath house I'm accustomed to living in with my mother and her second husband, Henry Drogas. Personally, Henry is an amazing guy. He's kind, selfless, an amazing person all around. He'd paid for my ticket here before I could even protest. Being in my sort of situation didn't seem to bother him the way it did my mother.
I have yet to tell my father, but the real reason I have to go into the small town is to see the doctor for ultrasounds to confirm for certain whether or not I am going to be a mother before I even entered into my second semester of my Senior Year.
As soon as my plate is clean, thanks to the old fashioned "by hand" method, I tie the laces to my black running shoes. I pull my normally ear length hair into a bun as it has now reached my shoulders. I gazed into the mirror at myself and saw a woman instead of the girl I feel myself to be. 'I can do this. I can do all of this on my own.' I encourage myself as I start out the door. "Kori, make sure that you aren't out past 10 please. There have been odd things happening in the woods lately. I don't want you to be on the highway that runs through there and something happen." Zeke calls as he walks to the stairs.
"Alright. Don't worry, I'll be fine." I say before shutting and locking the door behind me. I such as rain begins to drizzle overhead. 'So much for a sunny, calm day.' I think glumly. I've grown used to the humidity of Mississippi, but not the constant rain of Washington.
I pull my seatbelt into place before reversing out of the short, gravel driveway. The good thing about a small town like Port Michigan is that there are only around 500 people, well, 503 because of me and one of the local women just had twins. I know I should be worried that I won't be the one to tell my father the news, but oddly enough, I'm not.
