The Sisters of Nowhere

t w e l v e : a r t w o r k

On Friday, Wyatt got his first paycheck. It was a five-dollar bill that was so wrinkled that he could hardly recognize Lincoln.

But as he held it in his palm, he realized that it was more precious than anything he'd ever been in possession of before.

In California, the only thing he had to do to earn his pension for the week was to ask his mother on Monday and kiss her on the cheek.

He remembered giving five dollars to the Salvation Army bell ringers at Christmas whenever he went in to buy a new pair of shoes because that was usually the change he'd have left in his pocket.

Now, five dollars seemed like a million.

He thought of all the hours spent on the Penny farm, all the sweat, all the bruised fingers and all the sore muscles. And yet, he'd earned this fair and square.

And he knew just what he was going to purchase with his bounty.

When Saturday rolled around, Wyatt made quick time to the hardware store, where he'd already been calculating the prices for all the supplies he'd need to start up the rose bush.

Hal had made it clear from the start that Wyatt wasn't to use any of his things. Wyatt assumed that meant gardening tools as well, so he spent three dollars on his own pair of clippers, gloves, wood for a new trellis, and fertilizer.

When he got back to the greenhouse, excited to begin his new project, he realized that he'd forgotten the ties to attack the old vines to the trellis.

He swore under his breath.

The hardware store closed at noon, and Wyatt had told Oscar that he'd come over that evening and get the gardening boxes set up for the fall harvest.

Wyatt rubbed his tired eyes and looked out at the clearing that was slightly blurry from the condensation on the greenhouse windows.

A few bluish ghosts were wandering the field, and Wyatt could almost feel their sadness through the glass walls.

He looked back at Hal's farmhouse.

Wyatt had bought everything else he needed, surely Hal could spare some twine?

For some reason, a knot formed in his stomach at the thought of seeing his uncle.

They hadn't spoken much since the first night Wyatt came into town. Hal didn't seem too interested, though sometimes Wyatt caught his shadow watching him from the upstairs window.

There was a something that simmered between them that Wyatt couldn't articulate or identify. It wasn't competition or dislike. It was as if a rope was tied to each of them and they were trying to walk in opposite directions.

But Wyatt only needed twine.

So he pulled on a shirt and went up the hazardous porch steps and knocked on the door.

No answer.

Wyatt muttered, "This is familiar," before pushing open the door himself.

The house was silent.

"Hal?" Wyatt called, though he knew his uncle was hard of hearing.

Wyatt made his way to the kitchen with its one flickering light over the sink and rummaged through the junk drawers. It seemed like every drawer contained a fair amount of what could be labeled as "junk", so it took Wyatt a few minutes to find what he'd come for.

The spool of twine was only about half of what he needed, but it would get the roses started.

He was about to leave.

He only needed twine.

But then there was a rustling upstairs.

Guilt pricked Wyatt's stomach. If he left knowing that Hal really was upstairs, he'd feel like he was stealing instead of borrowing. So he trudged upstairs and down the hall.

The eerie blue light filtered from his uncle's room and Wyatt's eyes were already watering from the stench of the thioacetone.

"Hal? It's Wyatt!"

Wyatt pushed open the bedroom door, his stomach churning in revulsion at the smell.

But Hal wasn't there.

"Hal?"

There was nothing in the room except for the papers and the notebooks and the drawings and the maps.

Wyatt swallowed.

He only needed twine.

But then he remembered that Hal was probably at the Saturday farmer's market selling his tomatoes.

He stepped into the room, covering his mouth with his shirt and swallowing the bile rising in his throat.

The maps, he quickly realized, were all of Georgia and, more specifically, Nowhere. Wyatt wondered what someone could possibly want with twelve maps of the same place.

Some of Hal's drawings were hung up on the walls, others on the ceiling, but most were scattered on the floor. They were all erratic, chaotic things, streaked with black charcoal as if Hal had drawn them in a fit of anger; as if his only choices were to do art or stab someone.

Wyatt squinted through his stinging eyes, scanning the artwork two, three times.

It was of the same place. The same forest.

Twisting treetrunks, fields of flowers, glittering lakes, and pine trees made up page after page. Yet somehow, none of the drawings were beautiful.

Wyatt could sense the rage with every violent charcoal stroke, like a memory being forced onto the canvas instead of a fantasy being described.

Wyatt peered closer to the desk where notes were scribbled in a language he didn't recognize.

At Brambleby, Wyatt had been acquainted with French and Latin and some German.

But these were symbols. Strange and undoubtedly ancient.

One thing was certain: none of this had to do with tomatoes.

Finally, he couldn't take the stench anymore, so Wyatt exited the bedroom and went back downstairs, gulping in the clean air.

He felt lightheaded from the smells and from the questions dancing in his mind.

He felt a second presence in the dining room.

The muscles in Wyatt's stomach twisted when he thought of Hal standing there, but the presence wasn't his uncle's.

It was a boy, about his age, standing beside the empty china cabinet.

Their eyes met and they watched each other for a long moment, surveying.

The boy's features were angry in the same way a fire was hot--it only did what it had done forever: burn.

And then the boy disappeared.

Wyatt blinked once, then twice.

He left the farmhouse.

He'd only needed twine.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Hey everyone! I had a lot of fun writing this chapter XD

~Why do you think Hal has drawings of a forest in his room?

~What do you think he's up to? <.<

~General thoughts?

Thank you so much for reading!