The Big House

Chapter One: Stan Vs Gabriel

There was a yellowish blanket on the floor. A women layed to rest, sweating , mumbling her last will. Humid, hotness, a mild taste of desperation, countered by the fateful young soul of her son. Who stayed by her side, all this time. Inside the wooded, and soon to be terminated by termites, house. As his mom asked him to take care of his sister, who regardless of the situation, played on the sand, with rocks, who in her five year old mind, thought of them as the only entertainment to be found, the boy looked at his sorroundings. As his mom gave her last breath, his shield broke, he woke up, and realize, were he was, poverty, hunger, loneliness. His first tear, in fifteen years, came down. And the fateful boy, who stood up to a tasteless life, realized, that faith, and goodwill, would not, take him, were he wanted.

His sister came to him. And witht he language that only babies speak, she asked him, about their mother. As the protective brother he was, he told her, that she was dead, and to realize that we would never see her again. Now, that might not sound so protective, but he thought defferantly, and knew, that enveloping his sister into a shell of colorful patterns, with an undestructable shield of denience of the real, hurtful world; would just be worse, than saying the truth.

She started to cry, even though she would soon forget this moment and the image of her mother, who indeed was beautiful, but such beauty, that could not be manifested due, to the poor conditions on which they lived. In which water, could not be managed to such estetic uses. The scarcity of resources, ruined, a possibly model, her colerful blond hair, that shinned beautifully after a long awaited shower. But, that was dull and full of darkness, when it was engolfed, on the real life.

The boy was about to stop his sister from sobbing, but he realized that her yellow shirt, would need that water coming from her eyes. Maybe those tears would return the white, of that once, unscratched shirt. He stayed there, now with hate, looking at his house. That could not even be called a home. It was for him a blessing, but now he saw it, as a piece of shit. The mud, which composed the only four walls it had, were now, inside of him, turned into blood, that with the heat or rain melted. The floor, was sand, and he now saw it as spikes coming down from hell. His mom, her sould, her presence, was the only thing that kept the demon and hate inside of him. After his father left them for another women, they had no option, but make a living by themselves. Now, his mother was dead, and he was left alone with his sister, who regardless of the change in his personality, he will still love.

He stood up from his imaginary chair, which was just one of the four corners in his house. Walked around with his hand on his face, sobbing, and he grabbed his shirt, which was used to cover the dead body of his mother. It was his only change after all, he needed it. It was also a white dirty shirt. He grabbed his jeans, which were now shorts because one day he had to cut them so he could stop the bleeding of his siter's arm when she was bitten by a snake.

His expression changed, and he grabbed his sister's hand. " Where, are we going, Gabriel?", said his sister, her name was Rose. "We are leaving, to see how the rich people live", Gabriel looked at her and smiled, with malice in his eyes.

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" Nope, i do not want this house either" said the teenager. He was with his parents, looking at house because they had to move from their old one. "But, why?, you know, we can't afford, to buy anything like the stuff you want", said his mother.

"Don't give him any explanations, we are not getting what he wants and that is it", said the father. The family got in the car, the parents in the front, and on the back seat was the hateful fifteen year old with his big brother, who was only one year older than him. "Shut up already, who do you think you are, always wanting the best, we are not rich, realize that!"- said Jery, the brother. The teenager rolled his eyes. " You might be really smart, Stan, but that does not mean anything", said his mother. "You always want the best, it is like if you were born in the wrong familiy!", screamed the father as he was driving into the freeway. This was a typical conversation with Stan's family. He was indeed really smart, but not your typical smart boy. He had the tendancy to "twist" the truth into his convinience leaving no hope of doubt. He was able to see through people's intentions and determine their true motivations. However, he was full of ambition, which was fed, by an unknown force. How can a boy like him, have such ambitions? He came from living in a two room house to a normal size house at the ending of his elementary years. He had no taste of the rich life, yet his life was full of happiness that he did not grasp. He had loving parents who gave him everything he wanted. A brother who was with him on the worst and the best. He had many friends, who for some reason cared for him. When he knew in his mind, that he was truely evil, he wondered, why does she care for me. But yet, how do we know, if his decieving skills, are not confusing even him? This boy had food, a house, comfort, many uneccessary things, and love.