A Chapter by R. Bartilet

This chapter was a way to show more of her and her relationship she has with her mother. Basically, it shows why she's like this in the first place.


            “We should probably get going.” I assumed the bustling streets of the far away city would grow quiet as the sun was about to set. But I still sat here. Just me and Anna. She was watching me when I turned around to face her, still rooted on the same spot for a while.

            “Will we come back?”

            “Of course.” Watching me intently, she nodded. But just to make sure, she held up her pinky waiting for me to interlace hers with mine. And I did so, just like how I did so every time I made a promise.


            We pulled up and looked to the front of the mansion -- the ones where most people feel a rush of envy as they see it on a home feature in a well-known magazine. The ones with grand marble staircases and the ceilings that reached up way too high. It was -- to the fullest degree -- for all to envy; the architecture blended modern and old together. And placed in between two marble pillars was a front door -- the color of ivory, that surely shown simplicity in a charming way. And the stone path towards the house was lined with the same exquisite flowers I saw in my clearing. Yet as I stepped out of the car, I saw nothing more than an ordinary and old detached house. The one I have been in for the past twenty-five years.

            I set my keys down on a little side table standing in my crowded living room before plopping on the sofa. I ran my hand along the leathery surface, stopping when it lay on top of a gold hardcover book. And I opened it while she watched me, leaning on the doorway.

            “Why do you keep reading it?”

            Turning to the first page, I answered her while my eyes skimmed across the familiar text. “I don’t know.” That was all I could come up with. Unsatisfied with my unsureness, I tried again. “Maybe-- because I still can’t believe it.” I looked at her and saw the confusion etched on her face.

            She smiled when she understood. “Well, you should. The book’s real.” Shaking her head, she walked towards me and grabbed my hand to pull me towards the kitchen. “Come on, I’m starving.”

            We sat at our wooden dinner table that used to have a range of scratches on its dark finish. It was the only elegant piece of furniture we had in this house, except that it was surrounded by mismatched chairs from several yard sales my mother used to go to. Anna and I would lounge here all day -- surprisingly enough, the rundown chairs were comfortable. But nonetheless, my butt ached after an hour or two.

            She was helping me with my never-ending homework when we heard my mom shuffling in her bedroom before walking down the stairs to get dinner for her night shift at the diner

            “I have to go to work.” Again. “I won’t be here until morning, but by then I have to go to the pharmacy for a late afternoon shift.”

            “Hey mom.” She stopped digging through the refrigerator to look at her teenage daughter, expecting me to say something. “I don’t think I’ve introduced you guys yet, but this Anna.” I turned towards Anna as she slightly raised her hand to let my mom know she was here beside me. I looked back and found my mom searching my face and giving me an odd, yet a very familiar look. She shook her head and rolled her eyes, returning to the refrigerator.

            “Very funny.” Grabbing a bagel instead, she walked towards the living room and I followed her.

            “Mom, I’m ser--”

            She stopped abruptly and turned around, remembering where her keys were. “Abby, I have no time for this; I’m going to be late.”


            “Remember to lock the doors when I’m gone. And don’t open the door for anyone.” She opened the front door, but looked before leaving, “Love you.”

            “Love you too.”  

© 2012 R. Bartilet

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This was a fascinating story. Your description of the scenery and of the house were amazingly vivid. Please keep on writing this story, I look forward to reading more from you very soon.

Posted 10 Years Ago

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1 Review
Added on September 11, 2012
Last Updated on September 15, 2012
Tags: imagination, anna, abby, doubt, self-confidence


R. Bartilet
R. Bartilet


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