Post by Alex on Dec 5, 2007 4:00:46 GMT -5
The sixteen year old stepped from the Greyhound bus at its stop in a little town he had never heard of. The antique wooden sign they past shortly before pulling into the bus depot had identified it as Fells Church. Alex grabbed his bags from the overhead compartment. They contained his clothes and a few small momentos of his old life. The bus he had rode was to take him to the new chapter of his life. But, when he had spoken to his aunt Roberta, or Bobboy as she was called to those close to her, He knew that he would be an unwelcome addition to her life. She had only agreed to the Child/Youth Service worker's request to take the young man out of a sense of loyalty to her family. But, she made no mistake that she had little interest of having any part of her late brother's new family or life.
After this talk on the telephone, Alex's mind seemed to roam along like the bus. All the random thoughts came to the same conclusion. He had no desire to put himself through any pain that came with not being wanted in someone's life. When the bus pulled into the loose gravel parking lot of the truckstop/bus depot. Alex made his move. He grabbed his bags and left the terminal while the bus refueled and the other passengers went to the restroom or got a bite to eat in the convenience store. He set down the small street toward the center of Fells Church. He took in the sites of this sleepy little town. Aimlessly He wandered, the light wind ruffling and messing his shoulder length brown hair. He let his mind wander as he body did the same. When he came back to his surroundings, he found the sun was nearly gone behind the mountains, and he was in an uninhabited looking part of the town.
He looked and saw nothing but homes that gave the impression of being long ago relieved of their duty of providing a cozy place for others to reside and make their safe haven. The streetlights had even ceased to offer any kind of relief and guidance from the rapidly approaching dark. Knowing he would need a place to spend the night, and his body protesting any further activity, Alex cautiously made his way across the overgrown, and near jungle llooking front lawn of the long forgotten home nearest to him. He ascended the weathered and partially rotted steps and crossed to the front door. The hinges wailed out their displeasure at being forced to work after their long reprieve. He slipped into the barely noticable room. A bic lighter offered little help to guide him across the creaky floor. He found an abandoned and dustcovered couch on the far wall. Shaking and brushing as much grime and dust from the cushions as possible, The boy decided this would be a decent bed for the night. He closed his eyes and wrote the feeling of being watched off to superstition and too many horror films.
After this talk on the telephone, Alex's mind seemed to roam along like the bus. All the random thoughts came to the same conclusion. He had no desire to put himself through any pain that came with not being wanted in someone's life. When the bus pulled into the loose gravel parking lot of the truckstop/bus depot. Alex made his move. He grabbed his bags and left the terminal while the bus refueled and the other passengers went to the restroom or got a bite to eat in the convenience store. He set down the small street toward the center of Fells Church. He took in the sites of this sleepy little town. Aimlessly He wandered, the light wind ruffling and messing his shoulder length brown hair. He let his mind wander as he body did the same. When he came back to his surroundings, he found the sun was nearly gone behind the mountains, and he was in an uninhabited looking part of the town.
He looked and saw nothing but homes that gave the impression of being long ago relieved of their duty of providing a cozy place for others to reside and make their safe haven. The streetlights had even ceased to offer any kind of relief and guidance from the rapidly approaching dark. Knowing he would need a place to spend the night, and his body protesting any further activity, Alex cautiously made his way across the overgrown, and near jungle llooking front lawn of the long forgotten home nearest to him. He ascended the weathered and partially rotted steps and crossed to the front door. The hinges wailed out their displeasure at being forced to work after their long reprieve. He slipped into the barely noticable room. A bic lighter offered little help to guide him across the creaky floor. He found an abandoned and dustcovered couch on the far wall. Shaking and brushing as much grime and dust from the cushions as possible, The boy decided this would be a decent bed for the night. He closed his eyes and wrote the feeling of being watched off to superstition and too many horror films.