“I’m tired of this Scott… Your dad and I agree…” Her tone was flat, void of anger or resentment that seemed to hang around their normal every day conversation.

So he’d gotten caught again, racing. Not just racing, he’d taken his infinity g35 off road to get away from the city cops near a farm. Sadly he’d not understood the ditches they built to hold water. So needless to say the g35 was totaled and he’d just arrived home from the police station down town.

Of course his father had bailed him out, in his brand new Mercedes. Then dropped him off at his moms downtown apartment without so much as a word. He’d felt the anger then too. Something bad was coming, he could feel it.

“Finally agree on something “ He snapped, knowing a few words wouldn’t matter, she just sighed.

“Your going to live with Aunt Claret in Oregon” She spit the words out fast, as if she’d said it slow they wouldn’t have left her mind.

“So dad up an abandoned us. Now your abandoning me too” He said the words as harshly as possible, venom in his tone.

He knew it was gonna be bad, he hadn’t quite expected this. Aunt Claret was the family nut case. Well if the nuts filled a whole house and then ran the world from that house. A crazy cat lady who was only ten years older then him.

The next few days flew bye, he’d not interacted with anyone outside his cell. Ignoring his mother every chance he got. It was bullshit, their parenting was bullshit.

A few hours and several flights later he was on his way to Oregon. Tillamook was a small town, on the northwest of the state. Near the west beaches. Except no in the late months, snow was going to be a constant.

Arrival at her house took a few hours. Snow was everywhere. It was beautiful, a wonderland.

The house was a small cottage on the edge of the town suburb’s. Of course it was littered with what he could only explain as cat knomes. In different outfits and poses. All littered with snowy covering. Even the door bell when he rung it was a loud cats meow. Can anyone say eccentric.

“Scott?” His Aunt questioned as she opened the door. Truthfully he hadn’t seen her since he was a tyke. Now at 6’2 she looked small. About 5’4 and looked much younger then he’d expected. Of course the nine or more cats of different colors and various hair lengths made him chuckle to himself. Of course this was what he’d know was coming.

Buildings reflected in the car window, I see the whole city or, at most, what it had to offer. You know, a person can’t see much other than these busy streets; Structures of praised concrete divide up the roboticly repeating grid, so no one can see beyond them.

The car stops along a sidewalk, people’s legs mingling in a blurry image. I get out, and my mom hands me my suitcase. Slinging the backpack on my shoulder I say, “By mom…” The busy street contesting the volume of my speech, “See you next week, and I love you,” I repeat like many times before. A horn blares at a gutsy pedestrian crossing.

“I love you too sweetie! Have fun with uncle Vernan!”

My mother spewing kisses and final goodbyes, I walk up to the familiar overhang: The lobby under my uncle’s sprawling pent house. I knew it would take him awhile to get me at the lobby, so I waited taking in the fabric of the rich carpets.

My uncle was certainly rich, and he enjoyed every moment of it. He was probably up there playing with some fancy toy or redecorating one of his many fictitious-like rooms. I’ll just wait then. Pulling out my writing utensils, I sketch some of the passerby. They collimate into rough shadows dotting my pizza stained page.

The door dings, and I look up at the cue. Exiting the red velvet and gold embroidered elevator, My uncle makes his appearance. He flaunts a grey, formal tuxedo lined with darker brown stripes that make an elegant pallet. On his suit, there is a shiny black over coat, a single inaccuracy in the fabric not showing, and, on his head, a stumpy top hat is unaligned.

His face, like classic Santa Clause imagery, shares reddish blush on his cheeks and nose. His hair is white and crisp although he is not as old as he seems. Approaching me, he says, “Ahh, Ms. Flowers, lovely to meet you again!”

“Don’t call me that. Lets just go up.”

Gather my items in my bag I follow him into the spacious and luscious elevator. Inside, it dings and we wait. A vacuous rumbling sounds as we move up. Uncle Vernon leans towards me, “Well… I have some toffee you might love! I purchase it at this quint shop at the corner of…” I stop listen after I pocket the candy. I don’t think I’ll eat it later.

Exiting the elevator, a lavish view greets us. Frilled cloth of crimson tassels hang on the wall in the vibrant red front room. To the left, a blue hued room opens up, a peacock strutting across the fine, sapphire carpet. And, on the right, a bright yellow room magnificently shines like the sun.

He parades me through the overwhelming rooms showing me his wealthy items, a grin on his face as he eagerly awaits my expression. Unimpressed, I go to the balcony; The only place in this building I actually like.

The view was amazing, over all the towers and sky. I try to sketch it, but I can’t quite capture the scope of view. I hear the door open behind me, a defeated look laying on my uncle’s face.

“You didn’t like any of my apartment?” He sits next to me.

“No, not really. It’s all just.. too much,” I say keeping my gaze to my paper, a peacock crying inside.

He relents, “I always thought so.” His face droops. I have not seen him as sad since he lost his beloved puppy.

“I wanted to show you one last place,” he says tentatively. “It’s nothing like this view, but… I enjoy it much more,” a warm smile replacing his sorrows, he breathes.

“Uhh, sure.”

Uncharacteristically, he leads me back out of the apartment, uncaringly knocking over an expensive vase. Down the elevator shaft we travel and onto the street.

“This isn’t in your apartment?”

“Correct, it is not!”

We quickly make our way through crowds, and I almost loose him. But, sitting on a chocolate brown bench in a park, I see him enjoying a nibble of toffee. I sit down next to him.

We do not speak, but he seems to enjoy our time. Watching the foot walkers, the glistening shrubbery and trees, the sounds of children having fun, the sweet smell of summer air, I take it all in.

I reach into my pocket and grab the toffee. Chewing the sweet with him, we share the afternoon.

Drew was devastated when his parents died; on the outside. But on the inside, all he could think about was whether or not he would end up with his uncle Victor. They’d only met a handful of times, but Drew was always intrigued by Victor. He was the weirdo of the family and no one knew everything about him. Nobody shares everything with their family, but Victor always acted abnormally secretive.

Eventually Drew was told that he had to move to his uncle’s house on the country. As annoyed and nervous as he was, he was excited to see where this crazy person lived. His uncle greeted him with a smile, leading him casually through his home. Drew took in the wonders on the house. There were giant plants everywhere, some had vines growing up and down the walls. Drew let his eyes guide him up the walls, where he saw little paintings of forest, lakes and sky. There were rows and rows of flowers painted on each door, and city lights and skyscrapers around the windowsills. He thought everything looked really, really cool. His uncle showed him where to find the bathroom and kitchen, then left him to explore.

He first decided to go outside. His uncle’s property extended for miles. He was glad he had a bike to ride around. On his journey, he was able to find a small pond, where he decided to take a dip. It was an especially sunny day, in more than one sense. Not only was the weather nice, but his life was looking brighter and brighter. It might’ve sounded bad to everyone else, but his parent’s death was the best thing that ever happened to him.

That first night, Drew awoke very late. He couldn’t fall back asleep, and was awake until he could see the tip of the sun poke up in the East. He got up and of bed and headed downstairs. He went out on the porch to watch the sunrise, but he noticed a shadow behind him. It was his uncle, covered in blood. Drew was terrified. His uncle carried the head of his mother. Finally, Drew understood what had happened to them. It took a minute to realize why this was happening, but he knew for sure that he was happier with his uncle than he’d ever been with his parents. No matter how many secrets his uncle had, he knew it was for the best. Drew smiled softly at his uncle, as he smiled back.

The Child

The first thing I noticed were the bricks. They were... nauseating. No two were the same shade of pink, varying from blinding fucsias to cloudy pastels, making the house look like it fell through a car wash of paint. The lady who opened the door to greet me approached the same way. Happy, optimistic, endlessly vibrant. Her hair was dyed white blonde, her lipstick glittery rose, and her clothes... otherworldly, to put it nicely. "My name," she said with an exaggerated flair, "is Dolores... though I find it quite boring, so I implore you call me Darling, darling." "Oh. Ok. Um, where might I find the bathroom, Darling Darling?" "Not Darling Darling, darling, just Darling, dear." "I-right. Ok." She opens the door and leads me inside. “Welcome to the wonderful home of Darling, darling! The bathroom is the third door to the left. Straight down this hallway." She takes my luggage in an elegantly gloved hand and shows me the way. There is absolutely no way this woman was related to my mother in any way, shape, or form. "I suppose you've observed that your mother and I differ in many areas." Says Darling Darling Dear.... Darling? "But that is only because you never really knew your mother. Oh, she was a spirited one! Predictable, much like you... and your thoughts, for that matter.... but wild indeed!" My mother. Wild. Ha. I take a short trip to the flamingo themed bathroom, and ponder whether it’s possible to feel motion sickness from an abundance of color. Mother kept her house gray. Darling Darling and her… interesting… home are sure going to take me a bit to get used to. “It may take time to accustom yourself to all the glorious hues of my estate, being as your dear mother preferred an uneventful colored home.” Darling Darling wasn’t kidding when she claimed my thoughts were predictable.

Soon after, Darling Darling’s chef, Ms. Phillips (who has personal chefs now, anyways?) prepared a warm home cooked meal of barley soup. Mine was steaming and beige; Darling’s was lukewarm and pink. I practically scorched my tongue devouring the meal, a perfect rich concoction with just the right amount of everything. When my bowl is clean, I feel suddenly drowsy. “Ah yes, see, this is why I always have my soups cooled, dear. Warmth tires the mind!” I try to tell her that I think I might go to bed early, but my words merge and slur. I stand up to leave the table, and collapse onto the floor.

Darling

Upon her arrival, I sent a quick word to the Child’s senders to notify them. I received a response hastily. She will never need to know that I am indeed not the sister of her oh so boring yawn of a mother. She will never need to know that that woman is dead. Her blood on my hands. And soon I will do the same to her daughter.

The door was red, red and wide. The house’s outsides were overgrown. Exhausted daffodils flopped across the winding walkway. A mammoth rose of Sharon fainted across the porch stairs. I could hear Uncle Axel’s revving his truck. Christie was fast asleep tucked under one arm and all we had was in a big blue IKEA bag under the arm. Sighing I rang the doorbell. When life gives you lemons, you got lemons. I had a lot of lemons. Mom had fallen in love again skipping town to follow her heart who was skipping his bond. My daddy was dust settling on the highway. First Christie and I went to live with Mom Mom. But having a toddler around the house was too much for her when I was in school. We were passed from aunties to cousins and finally the family decided on Great Aunt Sylvia’s house. I have never met my Mom Mom’s little sister. Even though my grandmother said I met her at a barbecue when I was four years old but since that was five years ago it doesn’t count. I wonder why Great Aunt Sylvia didn’t come around the family anymore. Let’s get this over with, I thought. I double tapped the doorbell. Next I would police knock the door. The door sprung open. First I heard Uncle Axel honk and peel away. Second the tall like 6’ 3” tall voluptuous woman standing in the doorway was in a purple velvet pantsuit with a cream ruffled shirt and a jonquil yellow silk scarf. Her feet had silver pointed slippers and on her head a plum beret perched to the side. My mouth must have fallen open because she leaned down and tapped my chin to close it. She lifted our bag off my shoulder. She smelled of spice. “Did you know let the cat out of the bag came from English marketplaces we’re people would put a cat in an actual bad to sell as a piglet,” Great Aunt Sylvia said. Laughing high and shrill, she waved me in. My mouth fell open again.

“Gretta wake up! We have arrived at your aunt's house!” my friend’s mother called from the kitchen. I jolted up from my sleep excited thinking I was in my old bed, at my old house but then come to the sudden realazation that I was In my friend's car about to go live with some stranger. I forgot I was even in the car. I guess the sense of longingness can travel through one's subconscious even when their asleep. My parents died a month ago in a car accident. It wasnt their fault but part of me still blames them. How could they leave their only daughter? Its hard to move on from something like this but my friend and her family have helped a lot. Once I finally started getting settled and comfortable in my friend's house, social services came to inform us that I was supposed to live with my aunt because it was in my parent's will. Of course, this was an aunt I was unfamiliar with. How could my parents leave me in the care of someone who I didn't even know? Yet, another thing I resent them for. Once we got out of the car, there was a foul odor that seemed to be coming from the garage. I begged and begged my friend and her family not to leave me here but there was nothing they could do. So, I gathered up all my courage, said good bye to them, and knocked on the door. The door slowly creaked open after I knocked. There was no one behind it. I looked inside and saw a small little old lady. She excitingly said to me “My precious granddaughter has returned, give grandma a kiss”. I bent over and the next thing I knew, she grabbed me by the cheeks and professed how much she missed me. How could anyone be this energetic? I could tell that we weren't going to get along. We were complete opposites. While I was a night owl, she was an early bird, and my personality is more calm and cool, while hers is upbeat and energetic. Why would my parents send me to live with someone like?her. I just knew we would never get along.

“Soooo. What’s it like living with your crazy aunt?” Asked JD through the loud crunch of his chips.

I felt bad that he outright called my Aunt Miriam crazy…but he wasn’t wrong. Dad had warned me about her:

“She’s a sweet lady, kiddo…but all the marbles ain’t there. Don’t tell your Mom I said that, alright?”

“It’s unique,” I replied, gazing out the window at Aunt Miriam as she entertained her…guests.

“Well, what’s unique? Care to elaborate?” JD asked.

I scoffed and tried to hide my laughter, I knew I was on the second story of her estate and there was no way she could see my face from the courtyard, but I didn’t want to take any chances.

“Alright, since you asked so kindly. She insists that we communicate entirely with British accents.” I emphasized insists.

JD laughed. One of those weird ones where your mouth is full of food, I could see his desk covered in half-chewed spicy Fritos.

“So you have to spend the next week talking in a British accent?”

“She won’t reply if I don’t. I asked her where the toilet paper was…in my normal accent and she didn’t reply. She seemed to get mad, huffing and puffing and walking away like I didn’t exist.”

“Hahahaha! That’s fucking insane. I don’t think I’ve ever heard you fake an accent. Let’s hear it Donnie.”

“No…” I said with a chuckle.

“Come on man, you need to practice or she ain’t gonna feed your ass.”

“Alright,” I muttered, I cleared my throat, and sat up straight.

“She ahsked me to tawlk wit a Brit-ish ackcent.”

JD was dying on the other end, we were miles apart but I could see the red on his face, “God that’s bad. I think it’s offensive. If I was British I’d legit be offended.”

“Thanks,” I muttered.

“That it? Your Dad made it sound like she was off her rocker.”

I shook my head, “Naw that ain’t it.”

“Well? What else?” JD asked. I could hear him crumple the bag and in the distance, I heard it land in the trash can by his desk.

“She asked me to bring all my stuffed animals from when I was a child.”

“Whoaaaa wait…all of them? I remember you had a big blue tote full of stuffed animals when we were kids. That’s a lot of stuffed animals.”

“Alright, not all of them. Just the heavy hitters.”

"So...Teddi, Chicky, Dumbo..." JD started.

"Right, those three, Brutus, Riley, Snowball, Buster," I paused. "Not going to lie I'm surprised you remembered those.

"Meh, the mind chooses weird things to remember. I'm surprised you still have them to be honest." JD said. I could hear another bag of chips tear open.

"Yeah, I mean they've been in storage for decades. I had to go sifting through my parent's storage to find them."

"Well, what did Crazy Aunt Miriam want with them?" JD questioned.

I paused, letting out a nervous sigh. This was where things got super weird, the whole constantly talking with a crappy British accent was one thing, but this was something else entirely.

"She wants us to converse with them as if they're real people," I muttered.

"What the hell? What the crap is that supposed to mean?" JD asked.

"It means exactly what I said. For the next week, we're to have breakfast, lunch, and dinner with them. We're supposed to play games with them and watch TV and movies with them. It's pretty much like it was when I was four but as a full-blown adult."

“Wait, wait…does she have anything? Or is it all your stuffed animals?” JD asked. I realized that he’d stopped eating his chips, he was fully invested in the insanity of my upcoming week.

“She has an army of those vintage dolls, the ones that look like little girls with fancy hair, the ones that can blink but never do.”

“Oh my god! Fuck that!! Those are the creepiest things in the world. My mom had one of those dolls in her study and I hated it with the passion of a thousand suns.” I laughed and shook my head. Staring off at my aunt as she continued her elaborate dance, glossing over my stuffed animals and her vintage dolls as they stared at her with dead eyes.

“Then don’t come over here, you’ll have nightmares for the rest of your life.”

“That’s so weird Donnie. Are you hanging out with them right now?”

“Well, she’s hanging out with them at this exact moment. Right now she’s having a full-blown talent show with my stuffed animals and all of her dolls. I was supposed to join her an hour ago. So far she’s done magic tricks, sang half the musical catalog of Sound of Music to them, ridden a unicycle around the pool while juggling and right now she’s dancing for them.”

“Unicycle…that’s impressive,” JD started.

“You don’t know the half of it,” I muttered.

In the distance, I could see Aunt Miriam’s attention fall on me in my bedroom window. I could see her smile and wave a most energetic wave. She skipped through the grass, twirling around here and there before stopping just in front of my window.

“Donald darling, when will you join me for the talent show? Your friends are quite worried about your whereabouts and I can’t keep concocting lies for you now can I?” She said all of this in a near-perfect British accent, you’d have no idea that we were staying on her farm in south Texas.

“Oh my fucking god is that her??!?!” JD said with hysterics.

“It is…and I have to go. I need to figure out for this talent show…think they’ll be into jokes?”

For all you out there, who is reading this right now, this minute, I salute to you. I, also are reading something quite peculiar, and In fact it’s the same thing. I am far, far, away from any human, at this point in my life, living with my Mothers, half, adopted, book Loving being named Breeze. She is called that due to the fact, of her windy life, she never lands.

She rang me one day, in the town room of books, as a “Gone with the Wind”Novel, rang of the shelf, Yelling Frankly I don’t give A damn”. It finally stopped, when I picked up, as I secretly knew, it was for me.

I talked for hours to her, about my travels, through the pages of life, living my spirit through other’s adventures. She was asking For some help, around the Villa, due to the seasons changing, and her bones weren’t getting any fresher. She was also lonely, With just her spirits, and books in her life, but that is something she didn’t share, even with herself. Did I not tell you, she lives above that there Town room of books. So that is where, I share a small corner of my life and mind, with dearest Aunt Breeze.

She denies the fact, that she is almost there, as far as human style. Oh sure, she has the bounce in her curl, strawberry red with Tiny curls and a hint of spray. She never had a pet to cuddle or walk, or even say good night too. No love at all, she just didn’t know. Her real love, lies in the millions of Books, Magazines, and as many National Geographic’s as far as the human eye can see.

She can open a book, from the cover to end, in a fast minute, and even tell you how many threads are holding this certain bound Of thoughts together. I myself love to read, and so, this is my sanctuary place for my restless spirit, and endless mind. I spend hours And hours, watching flying books hover above my head, in a world where you don’t even have to hold a book.

Breeze loved to read an entire room, in 24 hours, and sit outside, with a glass jug of endless Lemonade. It was made, with fresh lemons swimming around in happy slices, in that puckering drink. One long plastic color of pink, straw was attached to her wall unit, as she Could unhook her drink anytime while she preached her book talk. No ringing for Lurch for that, save that for “the Adams Family”.

I slowly got used to her awesome, non-political, butt kicking, way of life, and she showed me, that you can live by books alone. You see, later on the years, dear Aunt Breeze hung on, till she turned her last page, at the age of 119. Now I live in her building Of books, sharing it with her spirits, books, and all her memories. Occasionally, I will feel a slight breeze and smile, knowing she Is around with her nose in a book,keeping her eyes on me. Lights out Aunt Breeze

My mom came down with cancer and couldn’t take care of me so I went to live my uncle, her brother. I overpacked and overthought the whole scenario. I could just stay in my room the whole time like I’d done all my life. I hardly thought living at Uncle Louis’ would be any different than living with my mom. They were both peculiar. Heck, a change might be good. Maybe I’d get out in the world more without my overprotective mom. The bus ride was long, giving me plenty of time to come up with coping strategies. I went through quite a few “If Then” flow charts in my head. By the time I got off the bus to meet my uncle, I was a nervous wreck. We rode together in silence. He was smoking a cigar but driving quite safely. I was grateful; sometimes my mom would speed if she was angry. “Nice to meet ya, kid,” Louis said. “I hope you’ll be happy at my apartment. My son will be glad for the company. Since your aunt passed, he’s been a bit reclusive. Maybe he’ll soften up when he meets you.” I was shocked. A cousin I’d never known! This was not what I expected. I knocked on his bedroom door. When there was no answer, I walked in. What I saw was a gangly teen with headphones. He had no idea I’d walked in. I walked back out. I broke out one of my science fiction novels and got lost in the story. After about an hour, I was hungry, so I went to the kitchen. Uncle Louis was stirring some beef stew that smelled delicious. We ate in silence. So far no one was trying to be friendly. It was going to be pretty boring if this continued. I wondered what school was going to be like. Was the Baltimore high school lively? Had I just entered the Twilight Zone? Thank goodness school was very interesting. I was placed in a gifted class. My cousin came out of his shell and told me his life story. I guess I just had to press him. Maybe I could make the best of the situation. But I couldn’t help but miss my volatile mother. For all her faults, she made my life interesting. I called her one afternoon to share with her my impressions of my new family. “Your uncle’s got a secret,” Mom said. “He’s a spy. But you’re safe with him- he’s the best agent undercover. Don’t be too nosy, and you’ll be fine.” And I was- until I was 18. I moved out the day a wet team murdered Louis and my cousin. I felt guilty for running. But they had kept me in the dark and never asked for help.

Rain hit the train windows, making the already dull trio even more boring. At least, it was that way to Nick Murron, who had nothing else to do except to stare outside. And all he saw were trees and gray clouds. “It’s your stop, kid.” The train conductor shouted to him from across the cart. He was one of the only people left on the almost abandoned train as it was past dinner time.