Travelling the white line.

Psychedelic

 Hey guys! I decided to write a new chapter. I know I only uploaded this story yesterday, but I couldn't stop thinking about it all night. Still, I might just make it a two-shot, although there is definitely potential for a complete book. Enjoy!

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The scents of herbs and cooking filled the air as my father pulled our mini-bus to a halt. Our small family let out a sigh in unison, unable to recall the last time we’d had a hot, home-cooked meal. The small wooden shack before us had a very rustic and ancient appearance. Nailed to the front door was a poorly painted and barely legible sign:

Mason’s Bait-And-Tackle Shop

As the engine spluttered before proceeding to hiss (as it usually did when the key was taken from the ignition) a familiar man approached us.

“My, my.” Bill mused, opening his arms welcomingly, “Your timing is impeccable, Moonchild’s. Welcome to our humble abode, y'all.”

My father exited the car first, holding out a hand for a friendly handshake. The two greeted one another like old friends. “Doesn’t ‘Moonchildren’ seem more grammatically correct to you?” My father joked. Bill laughed heartily.

Good old country hospitality, I thought to myself good-naturedly.

When my mother and I finally exited the van and joined my father at the door to the shack, a cheerful looking woman had appeared beside Bill. Her silvery-black hair was glazed with the beginnings of grey, and her face was lined with age. She had a plump exterior and resembled some sort of human pear.

“You must be Barnaby.” She smiled, nodding courteously to my dad before turning to my mum and I. “And you must be Miccah and Celeste. I’m Shirley Mason.”

“Nice to meet you.” My mother smirked gently. I raised my eyebrows knowingly. My mother and I had always communicated closely, and simple gestures invisible to the untrained eye were recognised solely between the two of us. But her smirk had nothing to do with Shirley.

Leon surfaced from the doorway behind his mother, holding two fishing rods in his left hand and a silver bucket in his right. He was wearing a simple pair of grey sweatpants and a plaid shirt. I shot my mother a sly glare. She chuckled under her breath.

“Leon,” scolded Shirley. She was very short in comparison to him, and a little shorter than I was. However, it was obvious that by his bright blue eyes and black hair that he closely resembled his mother as opposed to Bill. Still, I found it rather humorous watching her talk up to him. “I hope you remembered a rod for Celeste.”

“Why does she need a rod?” Leon asked. I was slightly startled at his voice, which was not as deep as I had expected. His voice was quiet, almost raspy, with the same country twang his mother possessed. Every pore of his body seemed to be excreting an invisible aura that could only mean one thing:

Get lost.

“Because I am leaving it up to you and Drew to show Celeste around.” Shirley’s voice was pleasant, but it was tinged with a mother’s warning. Leon immediately retreated into the shack.

“You have a lovely home.” I heard my fathers voice to my left. I turned to see him gazing up at the hand-painted sign. It was the sort of thing my dad loved. ‘Groovy’, as he would refer to it in his ever-so-cliché hippie manner.

“Well, it’s not much. The boys share a room and all.” Bill chuckled, waggling his eyebrows at my father. “It can’t be too decent for Leon, him having a new girlfriend and all.”

I felt my heart lurch with a sudden surprise at the change in topic, but quickly returned to my placid demeanour. Of course, Leon was a teenage boy; couples were a normal teenage thing. I suddenly felt slightly resentful towards Leon, although I was clueless as to why.