The Boys With the Tribal Tattoos

Chapter 1

                   It was a foggy mundane Tuesday morning when we pulled up to the old cottage. It was small and white with little flower buckets hanging on each window sill. The shutters were painted a dark blue color and a stone path led to a white door with a gold doorknob. It was minimal at best but that's all it had to be, after all, it was just me and my Mom.     

                  My mom parked the car, a silver Prius the newest model out there. My mom never could pick one thing in college and therefore, earned lots of degrees in everything she could. She was always thirsty for knowledge.  We recently moved for a new job opportunity for her. She was now the head of a timber company called, "Finn and Harper's Timber Ridge." Which oddly enough she later explained to me the original owners weren't even named Finn and Harper. They were simple people, Rosie, and Paul.  She made good money but never was one to flaunt it. Hence, the small cottage. She never understood the point of having big homes with six bedrooms and five bathrooms when it was just the two of us.  She always enjoyed the challenge of a good fixer up and the equity that grew with each brush stroke she made. My mom also enjoys arts and crafts making our own stocking each year with our names beautifully transcribed. Luci for her stocking an Eden for my own.

         My mom told me to wait in the car while she went to look for the key the previous owners claimed to have left under the mat.  The car door closed behind and although I couldn't hear her heels click from inside the Prius it was now a noise I associated with my mom. I could hear her heels click without hearing them and the swish of her lob that fell right above her shoulders. My mom's hair was a bleach blonde color and her natural brown showing through. Everyone always claimed I looked like my mom. I never saw it though. From the few pictures I have of my dad I knew I had his emerald green eyes. My mom's eyes were a soft blue color much different from mine and my fathers. I did have her hair though. Old pictures of her from high school floated across my mind. Same widow's peak, and before the bleach the same soft brown hair that fell to the small of my back in waves.

It wasn't long before my mom returned to usher me into our new home in "Sunny Glassburrow, population 1,286'",  as the welcome sign claimed. I wasn't impressed but nevertheless, I went to the back of our silver Prius to grab the few bags we carried in the car. Luckily the movers had already come and put our furniture out according to my moms' very detailed blueprints she sent them. I made my way up the stone path my yellow suitcase I use as a carry on in hand for flights. I opened the white door and it let out a groan as I pushed it open. This was it our new home, in "Sunny Glassburrow."