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Member of the Church Of Jesus Christ Of Later Day Saints

Joined: May 1, 2020

Message to Readers

Sorry for any writing mistakes, lol. It was long and I haven’t slept in 24 hours, and I'm feeling rotten.

What Happens In The Woods | Chapter One To The New Series

May 22, 2020


I stared out the tinted windows of my father's Bentley, watching an oncoming vehicle fly by us with a whoosh. The radio had been blasting through my headphones the whole seven hour ride, filling up the deafening silence between my father and I. Trees shrouded the rolling hills, obscuring whatever houses were among them. We drove past at least three dozen driveways before my father slowed to a roll, his right blinker on. I pull off my headphones, and power them down as he pulls into the winding path up to a baby blue house on the side of a steep hill. I squirm in my seat. I'd never been a fan of mountain-like places. I preferred flat land. Something like the salt flats we lived nearby. 

My father parked the car in front of a two car garage, leaving the engine running. That meant he'd be taking off as soon as he saw me inside. He steps out of the Bentley, slamming the door closed just as a tall, muscular man walks out of the house. The man looked exactly like a stereotypical lumberjack. A bushy red beard covered half his face and he wore a red flannel shirt that was tucked into his jeans. He had large brown boots what were perfectly designed for taking long walks in the cold woods without making his feet hurt after an hour. He greeted my father with a hearty handshake before looking at the car, his piercing blue eyes meeting mine through the windshield. He gave me a wide smile and turned back to my father to chat for a moment. The two of them were polar opposites. While Mr. Lumberjack look warm and inviting, my father looked cold and bitter. My father was wearing his usual back and white suit. His pale face was clean shaven and his dark brown hair was neatly cut. Not a hair on his head was out of place. Lines had formed on his face from the scowl he always wore. His eyes were so dark they look black 99% of the time. 

Suddenly, a boy walked out of the house. By the looks of it, he was around my age, sixteen to seventeen years old. The resemblance between him and Mr. Lumberjack was uncanny. Though he didn't have a beard, he was still very much muscular and had the same red hair in the same undercut hairstyle. He walked right up to my side of the Bentley and tapped his knuckles on the window. I stared at him for a minute before rolling it down. "You planning on staying in there for forever?" he chuckled. His voice was surprisingly deep. I blinked a few times before slowly shaking my head. He quirked an eyebrow. "You mute?"

I rolled my eyes and opened the car door, shoving him out of they way. He laughed, hands going up in surrender. "She's a feisty mute!"

"Shut up," I muttered, reaching back into the car to grab my Jansport backpack. I slung it over one shoulder and grabbed my headphones from the seat, wrapping them around my neck. 

"So the mute isn't a mute," he mused. "It would have been fun to have messed around with someone who couldn't talk smack."

"First off, the mute who isn't a mute has a name, and secondly, if that's your idea of fun, then you lead a morally wrong life."

"Ah," he sighed. "I was just kidding." I gave him a look and slammed the car door closed with my foot. He mumbled something under his breath and stuck his hand out towards me. "Name's Vince. Vince Lyncaster."

His hand engulfed mine as I took it. He shook delicately, like I would break if he did it any harder. I mean, I was a twig with no muscle, but I wasn't going to snap unless he deliberately tried to break me. "Ebony."

"Just Ebony?" he prodded, folding his arms.

"Sheesh," I grumbled, mirroring his pose. "It's Miller. Ebony Miller."

"That's more like it!" he smiled widely at me, his perfectly straight white teeth blinding me. "You got anything else with you?"

"What?" I asked, my eyebrows drawing closer together as I frown. 

"Did you only bring a bag?" Vince repeated, silver eyes staring into mine. That was one difference between Mr. Lumberjack and him. The eyes. 

"Yeah..." I bit my bottom lip, looking back at the Bentley. "Was I supposed to bring something else?"

"I just-" he frowned, looking confused. "Don't people normally bring more with them?"

I shrugged and started making my way towards my father. "I have everything I need with me. I guess that if I need something I'll just have to go shopping." Vince continued to frown, but doesn't comment any further on the matter. 

"You have everything, Ebony?" my father asked me cooly, his steely eyes glancing at me. I don't say anything, just gaze at the ground. "Alright then. I best be catching my flight to Dubai. You need anything, just use the card I gave you."

"Yes, sir," I said, keeping all emotion out of my voice so it didn't become shaky. Vince and Mr. Lumberjack casted a glance my way before watching my dad pull away. I could hear his tires as they rolled over the gravel, but I refused to look back at the retreating Bentley. 

"That was cold," Mr. Jumberjack muttered, still looking after my father. 

"That was normal," I quipped, my eyes still lowered. 

"What kind of dad talks to his child that way?" Vince asked, looking at me with a sour expression.

"Mine does," I sighed, finally lifting my gaze. Mr. Lumberjack put a comforting hand on my shoulder. I wasn't used to having physical contact with people. My father had never hugged me, and the people I was supposed to be friends with were all snobby rich kids who were all about their image. 

"I'm Devon," Mr. Lumberjack said, smiling at me. I searched his face for sympathy, but found none. It was quite satisfying. All the other people my father had shipped me off to made it their job to feel bad for me and coddle me. 

"Ebony," I greeted, weakly smiling back. Devon chuckled and lead me into the blue house with Vince following close behind. He showed me to my room so I could set my stuff down and get comfortable. A double bed with a homemade, yellow quilt was shoved up against the far wall, and a large lamp stood in the corner. There was a nightstand and a dresser crammed into the room. It was all that could fit in the small room, yet it still seemed barren. 

"It isn't much," Devon said, scanning the room. "Vince and I never use the room, and without a woman's touch, the house is pretty much... tasteless," he mused. He seemed saddened by his words. I didn't know if it was because he was missing someone, or he felt bad he supposedly couldn't make my stay better.

"Guess it's a good thing you're stuck with one for a few months," I joked, trying to lighten the mood. He snapped out of his head quickly and grinned at me, letting me know that he'd call me down for dinner if I hadn't already finished with my new room. I nodded and watched him walk away before turning to face the space I would now call my hideaway. I put on my headphones and start the music where I'd left off, right in the middle of Thunderstruck. Unzipping my bag, I pulled out five pairs of skinny jeans, five long sleeve shirts and five short sleeve shirts, a pair of ankle boots and a pair of vans, two dresses, a sunhat, a baseball cap, a hoodie, a small bag of makeup and toiletries, a box with some jewelry, my undergarments, and a dozen pairs of socks. How I had managed to stuff it all into the bag, I had no idea, but I somehow had and wasn't complaining about it. 

I shuffled around the room, opening drawers and placing my stuff inside. Though you couldn't see what was hidden inside once the drawers were closed, just knowing that my stuff was there made the room feel a little more... mine. Once I was done organizing, I strode over to my bag and looked inside. At the every bottom was a picture of my mom and I when I was little. I looked every bit like her. Auburn hair, golden eyes, sun-kissed skin. The only things I'd received from my father was his face shape, which was narrow with large cheekbones, and his nose, which was turned up a little at the end. I pull the photo out of the bag and set it on my lap, running my thumb over the glass. frame it was enclosed in. After a moment, I set it on the nightstand and plopped down onto the bed, pulling my headphones off and closing my eyes. 

"Everything all right in here?"

I blearily look over at Vince in the doorway of my hideaway. "Fine," I sighed. "Why?"

He approached me slowly and sat next to me, resting his elbows on his knees, chin on his hands. "I guess you've just been really quiet."

I closed my eyes again and clasp my hands together over my stomach. "I've been thrown around a lot," I told him softly. "You just remain quiet until you know how things are run. Then, you can figure out how to interact."

"I'm sorry," Vince said.

"You're not my father," I replied, sitting up. "He's the one that's sends me to people I don't even know so that he can go on business trips he always gripes about."

"That's awful," he muttered to no one in particular. 

I shrug. "That's all I've known."

"What about your mom? What does she say about all of this?"

I stiffened, glancing at him with controlled expression. "My mom died fourteen years ago."

He tensed, his silver eyes finding mine. "So did mine." 

I frowned at him. '"That sucks."

"Have to say the same for you. At least I got a dad who cares about me," Vince grunted. "Anyway. I think dad's finished dinner if you want to eat. We bought steak for tonight."

He stood to go, but I stopped him. "Can I ask you something?" He looked at me over his shoulder, asking for me to continue with his eyes. I hesitate for a moment before asking, "What did my father offer you guys for you to take me in?"

Vince's eyes softened. "Nothing, Ebony. We've got all we could ever want. We decided to share that with someone else who was in need of it." And then he walked away. I could hear his footsteps as he escaped down the creaky stairs. I frowned. My father usually offered my caretakers something so that they would even bother sparing me a glance once I was in their home. Why hadn't he offered Devon and Vince something? I look back at the picture of Mom and I, and feel my frown deepen. 

"I'm sure you'd know what to do in my situation," I whisper into the air, my eyes locked on the photo. I hear bellowing laughter come from downstairs and I stand, walking towards the steps to figure out what was so funny. I spared a glance back at my hideaway, right at the picture. I shake my head, scolding myself internally for acting so vulnerable. I fiddle with my hair for a moment before hauling myself down the winding stairs and towards the kitchen. It was only the first day, and I already felt more at home with Devon and Vince than I had anyone else, including my father. For the first time in a while, I genuinely felt like it was going to be okay. That Devon and Vince would take care of me like the rich people I was usually shipped off to never could. 

Yet, deep down, there was still a part of me that told me something was off. False. And deep down, I believed that that feeling was the only honest thing I knew. 
Word Count: 2037
Thanks for reading! I think I might have a story line here, but I could be wrong. The second part it already in the works.


See History
  • May 22, 2020 - 9:16pm (Now Viewing)

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  • V-Rose

    Hey, just thought I'd let you know. Chapter 4 of Never Really Real is out! Here's the link:

    9 days ago
  • Madelyn (Carolina Girl)

    I hope you got the beauty sleep you need :) I just published more of soulmates and angels

    9 days ago
  • .amelia.

    Can't wait to read what happens in Chapter 2! :D

    10 days ago
  • HelpMe512

    Amazing, as usual!

    10 days ago
  • Drishti Bhatia

    I loved it! Couldn't wait for next chapter.

    10 days ago
  • acrosstheuniverse28

    Loving the character development, awesome job! I can't wait to read more!

    10 days ago
  • Anne Blackwood

    I really like this!

    10 days ago
  • Crazy

    Awesome, you should keep writing:) I'm really liking the story, keep it up!!!

    10 days ago