The Boy in the Treehouse

Chapter 3 - The House

It was only a ten minute drive until the Watson family reached their destination. Soon they were pulling into a gravel driveway outside an old converted barn. It had a homey feeling to it, but John decided to ignore it. He wanted to go back to his old home, to his friends and everything he knew. He hated this new change, he wished everything could have just stayed the same.
The rain was starting to seize now, only a few drops fell on John as he reluctantly pulled his suitcases out of the back of the car. They grey sky finally clearing to a beautiful baby blue.
"Come on John!" His father called from the front door. His family were standing there waiting for him, with their suitcases, ready to enter the new home. "Cheer up sport.." his father cooed as John pondered over to his family.
"Okay everyone!" John's Mum said happily clasping her hands together. "Time for a new start." She opened the door and the family entered their new home. It was a lovely place. High wooden beams, with cream walls and beautiful wooden furniture strewn around the place.
"Isn't it lovely?" Their mother gasped happily. Harry and John hummed in approval, Harry returning to her music while John found a spot on the floor quite interesting.
"Anyway!" Their father cleared his throat. "Go find your rooms! And no fighting, remember the master room is your Mother and I's. Got it?" John and Harry picked up their suitcases and heading up the wooden stairs to the second floor.
The upper level resembled much of the bottom with the beams and cream walls. Harry found a room and walked inside chucking her bags down.
"This is a nice one" John mumbled to her. She glanced at her brother before slamming the door shut in his face.
'Of course she doesn't want to talk. I've been such a dick to her.' John thought sadly as he continued down the hallway. Before her nearly reached the end of the corridor a certain room caught his eye. He walked inside as if he was almost drawn to it. This room was... different. But in a good way, it was almost comforting. He examined every inch of that room. Taking in every little detail he could, the dust and even the damp drew his attention.
But then he stumbled across rather interesting. A carving etched into the bed post.
SH
John slid his fingers over the mark and felt a small tingling in his fingertips.
'SH?' He thought. 'Samuel Hay. Sarah Helms...' he began to list some possible names that fitted the letters.
"John?" There was a soft knock on the door, the young boy looked up to see his mother standing at the door way. "I see you have chosen your room. It's rather nice isn't it?" John hummed in response.
His mother sighed and walked over to his bed sitting down on it, the wood creaked underneath her weight.
"Listen John, I know this move has been hard for you and I'm sorry. You have the right to be angry but your father and I are just trying to do are best for you and Harry, okay?" John kneeled beside his mother on the floor and replied.
"Okay" he smiled sadly. His mother ruffled his hair.
"Why don't you go explore a bit? Maybe go out into the backyard. I'm pretty sure I saw a treehouse out there..." she smiled.
"Mum..." He groaned. "a treehouse, seriously I'm nearly sixteen".
"And you're still my baby boy." she said kissing him on the head. "Now go and explore!" she laughed pushing him out the door of his room.
Time to explore.