Cypress

Chapter 1

I wake up to my alarm. The sound screams into my ears. I think to myself, "Yes today is the day." Today was the annual family trip to our camp on the bayou. The perfect place for me to work on my paintings, nothing but a cypress swamp for miles. I hit my alarm and open my eyes, the sunlight wraps around me. It fills me with warmth. I walk to my door my hand grasp the cold metal knob. I throw the door open and head down stairs. The smell of pancakes and bacon fills the air. I see my dad and my little brother sitting at the table eating breakfast. My dad points towards my food and I sit down. I look over to my little brother and say Fin pass me the syrup. He slides it across the table. He was nine at the time short for his age with blond hair. It's been just us for about four years mom died in a car wreck. Dad tried to spare me the details, being that I was thirteen at the time. But, over the years I have found things out. They found her in car at the bottom of a bayou down the road. Cops ruled it out and accident. I'll never forget her blond hair, the only thing Fin got from her. Everything else about Fin screams dad. I look over at dad and say when we leaving he looks and me and Fin and says in about two hours. So make sure your brother is ready in time James. I have to go pick up supplies. Okay, "Dad." I was used to helping since mom died. I look at Fin and see he's done eating. Fin, go start packing I'll be up in a minute. He runs up stairs. I look at dad the same, look of unsettling pain on his face. I slide my chair back, stand up, and put me and Fins plates in the sink, and make my way up stairs. I throw my stuff in my suit case, catching a glimpse of mom's picture on my dresser. I put my jeans on they're ruff and wore out with a hole at the knee. Then I throw on a black tee shirt and make my way to Fins room. I walk through the door way and see him sitting on his bed. Fin why the hell haven't you started packing he. Frowns and says, "do we have to go." Fin your gunna have a good time now pack your bag now. He mutters a few angry words and starts packing. Ten minutes later we are heading down the stairs. We walk to the door and see dad sitting in his truck, it's old rusty red paint flakes from every corner. I lock the door and throw our bags in the back.