[ J. MARTELL]
...and those dimples.
oh my god, those dimples!
Selfish Archipelago summoned me to continue this book so like, go thank Wyatt or whatever.
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by -legenderry
PROLOGUE
In the early 2000s, there lived a family of four in a beautiful house on the rare countryside – though it wasn't too far from the city — of California.
There were medium sized, rolling fields with golden grass that danced in the sunshine as each strand flowed in the afternoon breeze.
There was a small rushing creek with a wall of small pebbles beside the bank, which ran behind the tall, baby blue house, where the four lived.
It had an open wide front porch, with hanging wind chimes made of all sorts of gizmos, and homemade bird feeders, too. Though, not many birds came by to perch on the brightly colored wood.
The residents who stayed in the house consisted of a father and a mother, who both ran a family diner right by the city, as well as a son and daughter.
The son, who's name was Christopher, had been in kindergarten when they moved in. Just a few years ahead of his younger sister, Riley, who was only a newborn, at the time.
Not to mention, they also had a small brown mutt who's name was Tucker. He mostly spent his tome following the two siblings around — it was either them or a butterfly or two, which only came around two or three times a year.
Summer for the two siblings, when they were young, consisted of racing each other through the tall, vibrant green grass by day, running towards the large oak that stood alone with a hanging tire swing.
But by night, watching the stairs twinkle over the quiet, large field. Or running around, catching fireflies in mason jars.
However, things had changed as the two grew up — money became much tighter, life at home wasn't as peaceful as it was before, and their father was much more.. sensitive.
Riley noticed this when her parents had forgotten it was her ninth birthday — Christopher was the only one who remembered, and could only afford her his old skateboard (which their father despised).
Their father was a traditional man. He stuck to his word when saying that women belong in the kitchen — with the exception of work. Their mother, a waitress, and their father, the head chef.
When their parents were out of the house, leaving them alone to look over themselves, Chris would teach his younger sister how to ride it. She picked up almost instantly.
