Marilyn My Love - 1st draft

Special Artist

It was raining, great I thought to myself opening my curtains. My room, which didn't look like my room anymore, was piled high with boxes filled with books, clothes and random things that'd been hoarded by me over the past 8 years. After all the years of living in this house we were moving to a small town far away from here for dads work, I can't remember what its called but I do know I'll be spending my last year of school at a boarding school, Nevermore Academy, well maybe, I don't know it's six in the morning, too early for any part of me to function.

Mom called me down for breakfast as my dad packed everything into a large, small-lorry sized van that we had rented for moving. "Why do we have to be up so early?" I groaned into my cereal "Because" my mother replied "We have to be at nevermore academy by three but your father and I wanted you to come see the house before we send you off to a boarding school" feeling a sick feeling in my stomach I couldn't help but get excited at the thought of staying at a boarding school, somewhere my parents weren't. Independence was something I was yet to discover, even at the age of sixteen, due to my parents smothering comforts and what seemed to be the efforts to control me. 

I looked into the floor length mirror, that used to hang on my wall, now stood next to the front door and examined myself, I was always sort of stuck in the middle of everything, arguments, my parents, friendships, even my appearance. Five foot five, not ugly but not pretty either, mid length magenta hair, the only things that caught my eyes about myself was my hair, my deep blue eyes and my sense of style. I was the definition of mid yet covered it up with my humour, charisma ad romantic nature. My parents on the other hand, I don't know how they met or even got together they are total opposites, sometimes I wonder if they are just programmed to like each other. My father lacked communication, his timid nature made it easier for him to relate to the huge kill joy that was my anxiety, but I don't see him a lot, he's a workaholic. My mother, so joyful and kind was good with communication but didn't always understand emotion or mentality and always avoided me if she knew I was upset. Together or not they weren't always the best but I was still grateful for the moments we shared and nothing could have ever prepared me for the bombshell they were about to explode on me when we got to the new house.

The house we arrived at was the perfect little family home, it looked like something out of a Disney movie, with its baby blue exterior, a white fence surrounding it, beautiful green grass covering the front, flower baskets hanging from the porch and the inside was just as beautiful each room was spacious yet had a cosy sense to it most rooms had fluffy grey carpeting except the kitchen bathrooms and dining room which had laminated, dark oak flooring. Even though it was partially empty, bar a large round table in what I presume is the dining room it kind of felt like home already, however this loving atmosphere didn't last long for my Mother and Father sat me down at the table and pulled a pencil and sketch pad out and put it in front of me. Confused at their actions  I questioned them, "what?" I asked in suspicion "We haven't really been honest with you." My father mumbled staring at his thumbs which he had on his lap in between his knees as my mother followed "draw something, Keira, anything" still very confused I began to draw the first thing that came to mind, it was a little white rabbit with big floppy ears and a cotton tail. After I'd finished my mother took my hand and hovered it over the page, staring at the rabbit as it began to move, small movements but still moving, and gasping with disbelief as the rabbit then began hopping around the table before disappearing in a cloud of smoke and lead dust, leaving me shook yet kind of thrilled that I had some sort of, 'superpower'. "do you remember pippin?" my father questioned me looking up from his hands "yes, my imaginary dog" I remembered, he sighed "no no no, Keira you used to draw pippin when you were little and he'd come to life, he wasn't imaginary, he was a drawing, but when you grew up you stopped drawing him and you began to forget and we didn't want to remind you so we thought we best wait until we think your ready to go to the same school we did to manage our creative talent" I was sat in shock, angry that they had hidden that not only me but they had 'special artist' abilities, but yet secretly static at this strange discovery. "Its getting late we need to leave now else we won't get to Nevermore in time and Weems wont be happy with us." All words lost, following them to the car, feeling myself wishing we had moved sooner. I began to panic and as we drove through the town of Jericho, thinking of the infinite possibilities of how I could mess this up.