#orange walls and a wall-mounted tv mahogany

[jesslearnsthings]

Living Room - Home Bar

[archishear-blog]

Radio

When I was very young, we lived in Hancock, New York, a tiny village near the Pennsylvania border. Our elderly neighbors up the street, Mr. and Mrs. Scutt, (that’s Scutt, not Scott), were the parents of Mom and Dad’s best friend. I remember the radio in their living room,  -   a mahogany veneer thing,  -  a joy to behold. The massive case resembled a dining room sideboard more than a radio and it seemed to take up an entire wall. There were doors that opened to reveal the glow of an orange dial and a host of serrated black control knobs. There were hot and dust-covered vacuum tubes in the back, and I think you could choose between speakers or earphones, -  whichever you chose there was always a preponderance of static.

 At the time my parents had a smaller tabletop radio, one shaped like a gothic arch, with a cloth-covered speaker behind a decorative wood grille mounted above the dial. This dial had that same friendly orange glow, and it was in front of this radio that my sister and I were allowed to listen, on Sunday evenings, to Jack Benny, Phil Harris, and Charlie McCarthy. I think it was also this wooden box, one Sunday as I lay on the floor reading the funny papers, we all learned of the attack on Pearl Harbor.

 We lived within walking distance of my elementary school, and I usually walked home for lunch. I think lunch hour meant I could listen, with my Mom, to Stella Dallas, and Backstage Wife (.  .  .  can a girl from a small town in the mid-west find happiness as the wife of a matinee idol ?).

 Sometime later Mom and Dad acquired a radio with a turntable that replaced the old wind-up Victoria that sent sound waves from the needle through the arm, and down through a megaphone-like loudspeaker.  This radio, a square box with a lid that opened to reveal the turntable, actually had an electric amplifier.  (Years later I was allowed to take this with me to college and there it entertained our young family for a number of years, - but that’s another story).

 About the time we had our first TV, Dad brought home a portable radio powered by transistors . . . transistors!  It was a wooden box covered in a textured vinyl of some sort, with a plastic handle on top. It was about the size of a shoebox and took a great number of flashlight batteries to fulfill the promise of portability.

 I was eventually allowed to have a radio of my own next to my bed. It was a little Bakelite box manufactured by the long-forgotten FADA company, and there are now collectors who search out these early Bakelite experiments. I recall I would catch “Terry and the Pirates” in the late afternoon after school and, after supper on Sunday, I’d fall asleep to “The Shadow”, (who knows what evil lurks in the minds of men).

 I wonder if kids today will, in the future, recall their DVD players, their iPods, iPads, and their Droids, with the same level of reverence that I experienced sitting next to that veneered behemoth in the Scutt’s living room.

[haddonfieldproject]

1️⃣1️⃣

<<PREVIOUS⏺<<CONTENTS>>

1.1.11 HALLOWEEN NIGHT

Haddonfield, Illinois

Cammie's eyelids were just beginning to fall when she heard the sound of a car door outside. She looked to the television, there was a commercial on the screen, a trailer for a new show that was supposed to be debuting tonight.

“Due to the delays in this World Series Game Seven, the premier of Season of the Witch will debut next Friday night at 8/7 Central!” The announcer's deep voice boomed.

Cammie slid out of her seat, causing the office chair upon which she sat to give a rusty squeak upon being delivered from her tiny albeit husky frame. Cammie threw  a fearful glance to the old man in the room beside her. He stared blankly at the screen with his piercing blue eyes, mouth ajar, the little oxygen tank behind his chair making puff puff sounds. Cammie heard approaching the approaching steps of what sounded like boots on the driveway pavers. She sidled on over to the window across the room and pulled back a white sheer curtain. She spread two thick slats of blinds and peered out.

The window faced out unto Matthew Street and she had a decent view of the driveway and the church across the street. A black police cruiser sat parked at the end of the driveway, headlights on, engine purring. Two officers were approaching. One of them was a short and chunky Caucasian woman. Curly black hair stuck out from her tan shiny billed hat. The other was a fat man with the complexion of cream cheese. He wore a hideous fumanchu on his face, his bulbous midsection looking ready to pop a few buttons on his khaki uniform. The man cop whistled as he got a look at the house and opened his mouth to say something but just then the female cop's radio crackled.

“One-Nine-Seven-Four seeking One-Nine-Two-Five do you copy?”

The woman cop pushed a button on the receiver mounted to her shoulder and said, “I hear you One-Nine-Seven-Four, go ahead Andy. Over.”

The two officers locked eyes, only for a moment before the radio crackled again.

“Yeah, uh, I was just wondering if you guys were seeing anything over there? Over.”

The two cops both sighed, as if in relief.

“Negative.” The woman replied, “Quiet as a mouse over here. We're still going door to door. Over.”

The male cop pulled a stick of gum out of his pocket, offered a piece to the woman, who refused, and then put a piece into his mouth.

“Yeah, we're en route to a 911 call over here off Orange and 9th, checking out a possible B&E, 66 says caller sounded young and was frantic. Over.”

“At least somebody's getting some action.” The male cop grumbled.

“Well you guys be careful and keep us posted. Over.”

“Will do. Over and out.”

Cammie watched as they approached the front door. She had to crane her neck to see, but she had a pretty good unobstructed view of the front stoop.

Chelsea Keane poured over her social media feed, which was dominated mostly by pictures of her friend's endeavors Trick-Or-Treating with their children. She scrolled past a nice parade of Disney Princesses, comic book super heroes, and the occasional vampire and Frankenstein. The movie had ended around twenty minutes or so ago and they had moved downstairs from the home theater to the living room. A fire burned cozily in the gas fireplace, warming Chelsea's feet as she propped them up on the edge of the loveseat, her head propped with a pillow on the opposite side, her body sprawled across the whole piece of furniture.

Josh sat on the edge of the larger couch watching the baseball game on the big screen TV as Penny dozed against the side of the sofa, her feet propped up in his lap which he rubbed half-hazardously, most of his focus on the game, which was just now returning from a commercial break. He was leaning forward to the glass coffee table in front of him, reaching for an aluminum can of Coke when the doorbell rang.

Chelsea let her phone fall face down on her chest. “What the hell?” She breathed.

Josh put the can to his lips, “Probably more Trick-Or-Treaters.”

Chelsea gripped her phone and swung her legs out to stand up. The bones in her back popped like a geriatric as she gained her feet. “It's too late for anymore Trick-Or-Treating.” She groaned as she walked toward the door.

🎃

Dylan's waterbed was a queen sized plastic bladder which set inside a mahogany frame atop a large plywood base. The plywood base was essentially a hollow rectangle, the corners of which were held together by simple bronze brackets and screws. A few summers ago however, Dylan had taken to rearranging his room, to accommodate more bird cages, and had basically drug his bed from one side of the room to the other.

Aside from begin extremely fortunate the whole thing hadn't collapsed on top of him, he had managed to bust the brackets off of one of the corners at the foot of the bed. The whole plywood base now leaned precariously to one side toward the far wall. In fact, if not for the weight of the mahogany frame pressing against the wall, holding itself up, the base itself would undoubtedly collapse. Dylan didn't know this, and neither did his mother, who, even when she did have time for him, was not someone you would consider, handy around the house, or even, noticeable about such things.

Dylan could, and did often, easily pull back the piece of plywood at the foot of the bed, revealing an opening about four feet wide. Most of the time he stashed candy in there, a few times he had even crawled in there himself and pretended he was in a secret cave or a submarine or even an underground base. One time he had even stashed one of the dirty magazines his mother kept in the room upstairs, so he could get a look at some of the pictures of the men and women inside with no clothes on, but he was horrified to find that pictures of his own mother occupied most of the space inside of the magazine. That moment had pretty much turned Dylan Rawls off of pornography forever.

This time, he had something much bigger to stash under his waterbed.

In the first few seconds after stabbing the little girl, he had done nothing but stare at her. His eyes narrow like slits, his tongue out in a gesture of complete focus and concentration. He towered over the little girl and watched her tiny body, waiting for any sign of movement, at which he would bring the knife down again. But then, a very strange thing happened—at least strange for him. He fancied later that all the great killers on TV and in the movies probably wouldn't think it was strange. They were so used to killing all the time, they were probably used to all the ins and outs of it.

The girl made a noise.

It was kind of a cross between a sigh and a snore. A strange guttural exhale that passed out of her tiny frame and into the quiet stillness of the bedroom.

Dylan's eyes widened, not excessively for he had been squinting, they just sort of..evened out to their normal shape. His face took on the very definition of a cold, blank, stare and he cocked his head to one side, relaxing his arm, and letting the knife fall toward his hip. He stood looking like that for a moment, mesmerized. It was if the very life of the little girl had passed out of her and into..

Into what?

The room?

Space?

Heaven?

As he pondered this, he was jarred back to reality by a strange muffled..

WAP...WAP...WAP

He looked down and noticed that the little pocket knife he was holding was dripping blood unto the area rug.

He was horrified.

He wasn't horrified at the fact that he had murdered a beautiful little creature that now lay broken and bleeding on the floor before him. That had of course been a necessary thing, after all, the damned thing just wouldn't stop that crazy twitching, knowing full well how much it was freaking Dylan out.

No.

He was horrified that there was BLOOD on his carpet.

He looked it over.

There was in fact a lot of blood. He didn't know how much blood exactly he should have expected, again, he was new to this whole stabbing people with knives business, but there was definitely a lot of blood, everywhere.

Dylan's horror morphed into terror.

Again, not at the deed. The deed was done and what was done was done after all. You couldn't take it back, you just move on and learn from it, anyway, that's what his mother would say.

Terror in knowing that the blood would give away what had transpired here.

The blood would get him caught.

As long as no one found Maddie Keane, no one really had to know what Dylan Rawls had done now did they? It was nobody's business. Dylan didn't have to spend the rest of his days locked up in Juvie or wherever they put child killers, as interesting as a place like that sounded to him. No. Nobody had to find Maddie Keane. She could just go missing.

That would be even better, he smiled to himself. If she just went missing, her mommy wouldn't have to know that she was even dead. She would just think she ran away and not knowing what ever happened to her would be better than knowing what did happen to her, wouldn't it?

Dylan was proud of the conclusions he had drawn.

And, he thought, I have just the best hiding place in the world. No one would ever look under that bed, and I still have the bracket and screws for it in a drawer somewhere. I could fix it and seal it up like it's supposed to be and no one would ever know. It should be fixed anyway, it shouldn't be leaning like that anyway. It's probably dangerous.

He nodded to himself and looked over the scene. Most of the blood was on the rug, pooling underneath the girl, spreading out in a fan from under her little body.

All I have to do is wrap her up in the rug, he figured. Wrap her up and slide her underneath. The rest I can clean up off the tile with a few paper towels.

Dylan walked around the body of Maddie Keane, gripped the side of the rug upon which she lay, and lifted. It was just then that he heard the doorbell downstairs.

“Hello ma'am, I'm Officer Danielle Rattner and this is Officer Joe Wallace of the Warren County Police Department and we just want to ask you a few questions, it will just take a second of your time.”

Chelsea frowned and rubbed her nose with the back of her hand nervously. “Um..I'm sorry, what's this about?”

The female cop in front of her smiled. “It's nothing big really ma'am, we just want you to be aware that we have reason to believe a few dangerous individuals may be in the area and we just want you to be on the safe side.”

“What? Who?” Chelsea shook her head. She was pretty sure he buzz from the joint she had smoked earlier was long gone but seeing two uniformed officers on the front step sure ratcheted up the paranoia a notch.

The male cop passed her a piece of paper. There were two men, both very similar looking, one was older than the other and the younger of the two had a gap in his front teeth. “Have you seen these men?”

Chelsea took the picture, looked at it, and then smiled. “Oh shit, is this a prank?” She asked. “I saw these guys on the news this morning.”

The female cop, Officer Rattner shook her head. “'Fraid not ma'am. We have reason to believe that the Chumway Brothers are in the vicinity of Warren County as we speak and we are asking everyone to be vigilant and just be on their lookout for these two very dangerous individuals.”

“Oh shit,” Chelsea breathed, trying to remember what she had heard about them on the news that morning but remembering nothing. But if it made the news it must have been bad, she thought.

“Okay,” she replied, gripping the door to close it, “I'll keep an eye out.”

“One more thing ma'am.” Officer Rattner held out her hand to stop her. “We have one more dangerous person on the loose, an escaped patient from a psychiatric facility nearby.”

Now this Chelsea did remember in detail, but only because the story was so improbable that she couldn't believe it. “Are you talking about Michael Myers?” She asked, “That guy who killed everybody when he was a kid?”

The male officer nodded. “Yes ma'am.”

“You guys haven't caught him yet?” Chelsea asked.

The woman's radio crackled. The voice that came through sounded an octave too high. Tense and earnest.

“One-Nine-Seven-Four seeking One-Nine-Two-Five do you copy?!”

Officer Rattner smiled. “Excuse me.” She said and turned, walking back down the driveway toward Matthew Street.

Officer Wallace continued, “We have not apprehended the suspect yet, no. We have reason to believe he may be wearing a blue jumpsuit. He's very tall, large build.”

“I'm here Andy, what's up?” Officer Rattner could be heard from the end of the driveway.

“So he's not a kid anymore?” Chelsea laughed.

“We need assistance at the corner of Orange and 9th! We have a stabbing victim and attempted home invasion. Sheriff Brackett is also en-route, he wants all available units to meet him there! Over!” Squawked Officer Rattner's radio.

“No I'm afraid he's not.” Officer Wallace chuckled.

“Ok, we'll be right there. Over and Out. Hey Joe!” Officer Rattner called from the end of the driveway.

Joe turned. “Yeah?”

“We gotta go, something going down in Orange Grove.” she replied.

Joe sighed, “Goodnight miss.”

Chelsea smiled and shut the door.

She walked back into the living room and stood in the doorway, temporarily lost in thought.

Her son Josh didn't look up from the television when he asked, “Who was that at the door?”

Chelsea didn't answer.

Josh looked at her, “Mom?”

Chelsea blinked and shook her head. “Oh..nobody. Where's the kids?”

It had been difficult, but Dylan had managed to roll the body of little Maddie Keane up inside the rug and fit her into the opening under his waterbed. The rug was too long for it all to fit straight in, and he found that he was unable to put the piece of plywood at the foot of the bed back into place. So he had crawled in under the bed and slid the rug with the young girl inside sideways. After this, the piece of wood fit back snugly. He didn't attach the brackets now however, figuring he could just do that later.

After this was accomplished he had set about cleaning the rest of the drops of blood from the tile floor using a bottle of Windex and most of the roll of paper towels he kept next to the bird cages. Luckily, very little of the blood had fallen into the grout of the tile and what had mattered little because the grout on the floor was black anyway, so it was hard to see unless you knew where to look. Dylan tossed the bloody knife and the bloody paper-towels into his waste basket and then pulled the trash bag out of the can and stuffed that under the bed as well. He kept a box of trash bags under one of the bird cages and was applying a new bag to the can when there was knock on the door.

🔪

Chelsea Keane opened it without an invitation.

“Wow,” Chelsea exclaimed, “Cleaning our room?”

“Yes!” Dylan barked, immediately ashamed of how his voice cracked as he answered. He sounded overly excited.

“It smells so clean in here.” said Chelsea smiling at him.

“That's the Windex.” Dylan replied.

“Uh huh,” Chelsea smiled. “Where's the girls?”

“I don't know where Cammie is.” Dylan answered.

“Well where is Maddie?” Chelsea asked, frowning.

Dylan shrugged.

“I thought she was playing with you.”

“We were playing the Wii,” Dylan answered, “But I didn't want to play anymore.”

Chelsea turned and left without a word.

Dylan felt like he could finally breathe again.

As the police officers walked back to their vehicle, Cammie climbed back up in the office chair and turned to the old man.

Same expression...or lack thereof.

Half opened eyes, half opened mouth, looking at the game, but even at Cammie's young age, she wondered in some abstract way if he was really seeing the game.

“Welcome back to Wrigley Field as we move into the bottom of the seventh inning, the White Sox have a 2-0 lead on their cross town rivals in this decisive Game Seven of the World Series. And the Cubs will bring a new pitcher into the ballgame now...”

The door to the little room burst open, flooding the room with light.

“Maddie?” Chelsea Keane called, her face haggard in the soft light of the television, her eyes were wide. They fixed on Cammie in the chair.

“What are you doing in here?” She asked, “Come out of there this instant. Who told you to go in there?”

Cammie hopped out of the chair at once and filed out into the hallway with her babysitter.

“Why were you in that room?” Chelsea asked the girl as she closed the door behind her. “Where's Maddie?”

“I don't know.” Cammie replied, her eyes growing cloudy.

“Why were you in there?” Chelsea asked again, growing impatient.

“They said I couldn't play with them.” Cammie said, her face breaking.

“Who said?” Chelsea asked.

“Dylan. He said that fat girls couldn't play.” A tear spilled out of the chubby little girl's left eye and dripped down her pink cheek.

Chelsea rolled her eyes and fumed. “Well, where is Maddie?” She asked.

“I don't know.” Cammie answered.

Josh Keane appeared at the end of the hallway. Penny was up and standing behind him, her hair disheveled. She yawned, covering her mouth.

“What's going on mom?” Josh asked.

“I can't find Maddie.” Chelsea said.

“Well let's look for her. This house is huge.”

The four of them stepped back out into the living room. Dylan had made his way down the stairs. As the group walked passed him, he plopped unto the end of the couch where Josh had been sitting, and picked up the remote for the television. Cammie sat down beside him, although, not too close beside him, she slid to the other end of the piece of furniture.

“You two check upstairs, and I'll check the pool hall...oh my god, the pool!” Chelsea exclaimed and jerked open one of the sliding glass doors.

Cammie watched worriedly as the woman practically leaped outside and the other two teenager bounded up the stairs. Then he turned to Dylan.

Dylan payed them no attention, he giggled at the television where Spongebob Squarepants was trying to figure out how to save his friend Patrick the Starfish who was currently buried up to his neck---if starfish had necks---in sand.

NEXT>>

[jewelinthepalace]

BBL Task 3: Journal

The "Live" in the Living Room

I have always wondered why the central area of a house is called the living room. Sure, it may be where family members often gather. It is where guests and visitors are usually entertained. But what made humans name it as the living room? Perhaps we all have our answer to that.

Our living room is not that big, but it is an elongated room that can hold two “sets” of salas. The walls are painted pure white, with thin streaks of brown wood fastened on the outlines of the ceiling. The floorings of the whole room are light aquamarine tiles, with a few tints of white to mirror the appearance of a true gem.

The first sala, as we call it, is the one that is nearer to the main door. It has an L-shaped sofa that resembles the color of chocolate. Bright, pulpy orange and white curtains in an alternate manner adorn the window above the sofa. In front is an ash, round glass table. Underneath the table is three sturdy oval-shaped mini sofa chairs. The furniture in front of the round table is a piano keyboard that is covered with red cloth littered with touches of black. Some green candles and a pink basket are placed on top of it. The first sala is where our visitors are often told to sit because it is nearer to the entrance, and well, it has more space for seating than the other sala.

In between the first and the second sala, there are two, individual wooden chairs beside the L-shaped sofa of the first sala. Above the mahogany-colored chairs is a red, hollow case that is meant for storage of the AC’s remote. Above the case is the white, rectangular air conditioner. The soft buzzing of the air conditioner can be heard whenever it is turned on but it is not too distracting. It just produces a small, gentle sound that signifies it is properly working and doing its job to make the room cold. A grey door to a bedroom also separates the first and second sala.

The second sala is the one near the altar and has a long, black flat-screen TV on the wall adjacent to the long mahogany sofa and rectangle table. A frame compiling four graduation pictures – the four children of my grandparents – stands high and proud above the sofa, as if it was boasting to whoever saw it that “We were able to produce four children who successfully earned college degrees!” In front of the rectangular table on the second sala, is another wooden table under the wall-mounted TV that is occupied by individual pictures of our family.

A chestnut-colored cabinet beside the sofa holds the framed pictures of Jesus Christ, statues, and medals with saints engraved on them. On the wall above, the biggest and six-sided full-body image of Jesus is hung. On its left is a pink bouquet of fragrant roses that my grandmother received on her birthday in the first week of September. An inspirational story from the Bible is also hung beside the gigantic image of the Lord, and another picture of Him is above the story, but this time showing the head to the chest only. My family is exceptionally religious, that is why the altar in our living room is overly decorated. The second sala is also where we often pray for the rosary and light up candles during special occasions.

The silver, metallic sliding door on the farthest side from the entrance is the gateway to the kitchen and one other bedroom. It produces quite a loud, booming sound if closed or opened with great force because it will collide with the door frame. Beside it is a tall, brown glass cabinet that safe keeps souvenirs of my family from weddings, baptisms, etc.

I could say that our living room resembled a vintage theme. It is mainly composed of walls, ceilings, and furniture that are either white, orange-ish red or various shades of brown and almost all furnishings are wooden. But I do not think it is the appearance that makes up the living room of any house. It is simply where most of the memories are made with our family, relatives, and friends. It is where we share our laughs, where we pray, and where we catch up with the people dear to us. It is what makes life worth living. It is the living room.

[yourwritinghelp]

After The Sun Sets  I

1k- Synopsis;

Mel is an experienced agent in the Criminal Defiance Department, she hates her new partner Corey. Mel hates everything, calls him Princess, and will always do things her way, the right way. 

Genre- We’ll see???

Warnings- The term “Princess” not being used toward a princess????

Notes- This is the first part and is a bit short because I’d like to know how you feel about it before diving in!

“The thing is,” Mr. Anderson pauses, “Mel is kind of a free spirit, she’s definitely her own person.” Corey nods, “Well, I’m sure we’ll get along just fine.”

Mr. Anderson forces a small smile before opening the door to his office. Inside there is a large mahogany desk afront a bookcase that covers the back wall. There are two chairs on the opposite of his. There is someone already sat in one, Corey sits in the next one and offers his hand to the girl next to him. Her head is shaven all around her head except for a messy mop of pale blue atop. Her hair matches her attire, a complete set of pale blue polar bear pajamas.

“Corey Michael,” he says holding his hand out to shake, “I’m looking forward to working with you.” Mel looks the man next to her up and down, her eyes ending on his hand.

He looks like he just walked off the nearest military base. His hair is blonde and shaven tighter than Mel’s and he’s generally broad and muscular looking. Mel just nods, her eyes on his hand.

“Alrighty then,” Mr. Anderson starts, “you two are to have the rest of the day off today so you can use your time to bond as new, new teammates, new partners, new—” Mel sighs, “I get it, Anderson.”

“Okay so, how do you want to bond?” Corey checks something on his phone.

“How about we just share favorite colors and tomorrow you can go report that to Andy Boy?”

Corey sighs and pinches the bridge of his nose. It occurs to Mel for a moment that she’s already been making bad first impressions on Corey especially since she’ll be forced to work with him but she shrugs it off. After a moment of silence, he turns away from her and walks. He’s wearing a gray suit and watching him abruptly storm off makes Mel laugh. She feels as if someone should be dramatically filming this or something. The twisted part of her tells her to sing so she starts pouring out in Whitney Houston's “I will always love you”.

He stops in his tracks, Corey groans and cracks his neck before turning back around. His glare should be burning holes into Mel but she continues to sing and flail her limbs around as if she were dancing. He stomps right up to her until she can smell his cologne, he smells kinda like dryer sheets. She doesn’t stop singing until he coughs above her.

“Damn bro. Don’t hack on me, grandpa.”

“Purple,” he stands much taller than Mel but still does not look down, “my favorite color is purple. Let me guess yours’ is black?”

“Woah!” Mel punches his stomach and he backs up to finally look at her, “Your stage career is also fortune teller?”

“Go do your job or something.” He spits.

“I would love to but today I can’t because you decided to show up, funny how that rolls back on you, huh?”

Corey glares down his nose toward Mel, and she smiles right back in her polar bear pajamas. “Purple and black,” she laughs, “I’ll get us matching phone cases.”

At night Corey sits at his dining table with the lights off eating another TV dinner. Under his palm, his phone vibrates a text from an unknown number.

Unknown: It’s your favorite

Me: Melvyn?

Unknown: Wow, never say that again, Princess. No one will find your body,

A shiver ran down Corey’s spine.

Me: Princess?

Unknown: Knew you’d be into that, after all, we both are fortune tellers.

Me: Mel, I’m gay.

Melvyn: Good for you Princess, I’m pan, now don’t forget to meet me at the police station tomorrow morning. DON’T be later than me.

Me: What time is morning?

Melvyn: You’re funny, g’night.

Me: Mel??

Mel hears her phone notification ding another four times before she decides to just put his contact on silent. It makes her smile.

He arrives at the police station, down the street from the Social Justice building, at ten o’clock hoping it was an appropriate time. For the first fifteen minutes, he sits on a bench outside with a cup of coffee in his hand. He knew there was a chance of rain but it was supposed to be low so when it begins to sprinkle he immediately moves inside. He chooses a chair against a far wall near a table of magazines. An older lady at the main desk asks if he needs something but he just says he’s waiting for someone important.

After thirty minutes a young officer walks in the front doors with two white boxes in hand. Corey cannot help himself but notice the way the officer’s wet trousers are tight around his quads and calves. He’s snapped out of his staring when the young officer calls out over to him, “You Corey?”

He rises to his feet, “What, yes, Corey Michael.”

“Come with me, Corey.”

The officer introduces himself as Daniel Con, he leads Corey past the main desk and through a set of doors to a break room. Inside there are two hard looking couches being used by a suspiciously handsome light skin mixed officer and a shorter stocker Hispanic officer sat across from him. There’s a TV mounted on the wall playing Housewives Of Orange County. It takes Corey a minute to notice Mel in the back seated on a counter eating a breakfast burrito. She isn’t wearing pajamas this time but a black sweatshirt and sweatpants.

“Am I late?” He asks.

“Not as late as I expected.”

What’s that supposed to mean, Corey wants to ask but doesn’t.

“Ever shot a gun?”

“I was told I wouldn’t have to if I could play the part of intimidation.”

Mel scoffs, “You were lied to. Where are you from? The watering-office-plants department? This is the Criminal Defiance Department, and your Starbucks caramel frappu-whatever is not going to put you in any position of intimidation.”

There is a sudden sting in his chest being talked to like that, and still, the officers carry on like she isn’t completely slaughtering him with words.

“By the way, your phone case was shipped yesterday and should be at your desk as of two days so,” she checks her phone, “Thursday.”

[deactivated4179291]

Star Crossed - Part 2 (H.S AU)

Maddie’s POV 

    The rest of my day was pretty uneventful. Grab the clothing item, fold, put in the box, repeat. Packing was tedious, to say the least. At dinner, I took note of Chuck’s absence. Did he just pack up and leave us? God, you really do exist. I’m sorry I haven’t been to church in like….9 years..oops? But hey, shout out to you homie for sending away all that is wrong in the world. Or, well..this house. My little prayer is cut short when my mom finally interrupts the only sounds that can be heard which are forks and knives knocking against our plates.

    “Chuck won’t be joining us tonight, he’s on a business trip for the next few days.” WOO! This day just get’s better and better.

    “How long is a ‘few days?’’ I gesture air quotes and raise an eyebrow at my mother.

     “Until Saturday.”

    I hum in response. On the outside I am calm, but I know that on the inside I am jumping up and down and spraying champagne everywhere. Maybe that’s a bit dramatic – but whatever it takes I am going to make the most of the time my family and I have without him in the house. As we finished dinner, plates ended up in the sink, and after my nightly routine, I had been reunited with my bed, before sleep spread throughout my body.

                                           --------------------------

  After waking up at 11 AM, and panicking because I was supposed to meet Niall at Starbucks at 12, as we agreed on once I was awake, I somehow ended up with some makeup on, as well as a cute outfit. I wore black jeans, black ankle boots, and a gray v neck shirt. I threw my hair up into a ponytail and pulled some little strands out in the front before grabbing my keys to my car, I drove off towards the Starbucks. The only Starbucks anywhere close to the pair of us was the one inside the neighboring city. We both lived in one of the suburban cities, called Adelton. Luckily, Dalton, the neighboring city was a short drive.

  It didn’t take me long to get there because everyone was probably working so there wasn’t any traffic. I had made it to the door of the café by 11:56 and took a deep breath before slowly pushing it open, scanning the room for blonde hair and blue eyes. And then I saw him.  He was sat at one of the little tables by the window, watching the cars go by in the heart of the city where we were. Eventually, his eyes met mine and a warm, welcoming smile made its way onto his face. I gathered up all the bravery I could muster before slowly walking towards him. He was quick to stand up, pushing his chair back, causing it to squeak as it skids across the floor.

   “Hey! It’s nice to meet ye, Madeleine,” he offers, his arms stretching out for a hug. His accent is pretty interesting. I’ve never really heard accents apart from the ones here in the states. I awkwardly accept it, as strange as it may feel.

   “You can just call me Maddie,” I pull back and force a smile back to him. He nods his head toward the chair as if he is asking me to sit, which I do.

    “Crap, I’m sorry, you said that yesterday didn’t ye?”

     “No, it’s no big deal, no worries Niall.” I offer him another smile, only this time it’s real. 

  We spent the next hour going over plans for our relocation day. As it turns out, Niall already lives in the house we’re expected to occupy together. Not only that, but he has three housemates. I was not just going to be living with Niall…I was going to be living with three other strangers. Not once have I heard of newly crossed pairs having housemates. I would say four strangers, but after talking to Niall even just for a few minutes, I felt it was wrong to address him as one. He was…kind.

     “If ye want, and ye aren’t busy, you should stop by later and meet the lads. We’re having some friends over for a li’l get together tonight. It’d also be good for you to see the house so you have an idea of where you want to put yer stuff.”

    I laugh a little. “Trust me, I have nothing to do other than pack my clothes, and I am really great at procrastinating, I’d be happy to stop by.” I smile.

     “Great! I actually gotta go, ‘gotta start helping the boys get the house cleaned before people start comin’ over, they keep texting me – telling me to ‘clean my damn room,’” he chuckles, “but I’ll see you there at 5:30?”

     “Ya, I’ll see you then.”

                                           ----------------------------

     “There’s four of them?! How is that even possible?!” My mother scowls confusedly. Robin just giggles, from her spot next to my mom on the couch. I had to ask my mom if I could borrow her car because mine was running low on gas, and I forgot to fill the tank on the way home. Good job Maddie, 10/10.

     “Don’t know, but I guess I’m gonna’ find out” I shrug, chuckling. 

At that point, it was almost 4:30 so I had a little less than an hour to throw something together. Now, I am sat inside my mom’s white Volkswagen Touareg, parked in what’s supposed to be my new driveway. My fingers tap the steering wheel nervously. The house was huge and extremely beautiful. I had never seen a house this big, so I don’t know how in the hell my mom is helping pay for this. I don’t know what I did to deserve to move into this gorgeous house, to be honest. Sighing, I unbuckle my seatbelt and step out of the car, closing the door behind me and locking the vehicle, leaving it with the slew of cars in the driveway.

   I walk up towards the mahogany double doors. The sun hasn’t quite gone down yet, but it leaves an orange glow across the white concrete of the walkway, and the white house itself. I knock lightly on the door, and tug on my olive green jacket lightly, then fidget with my keys while I wait for a response. I decided to just wear what I was wearing earlier, but threw on a little more makeup, and a jacket, because there was a bit of a breeze outside today. I’ve never really been one for first-encounters. In fact, I’m actually quite shy when meeting new people. What if they didn’t like me? What if they were annoyed that someone like me was getting to move into their nice house? I really hope no one is giving their room up for me, but I also don’t want to share a bed with someone I just met…

     The door opens to reveal a giggling, crinkle-faced Niall Horan. Seeing him smile so big makes me break a small closed mouth smile on my own face.

     “Hey! Glad you could make it!”  He pulls me in for another hug, with one arm.

     “Thank you for inviting me,” I chuckle, smiling and mumbling into his shoulder. I slide my keys into my jacket pocket.

  “No, of course! I mean, after all, this is yer house too in a few days, so make yourself at home!” his tone is kind and welcoming. I guess living with him might not be as sufferable as I suspected. He nods his head towards the inside of the house and holds the door open for me.

  I mumble a quick thank you as I step past him. Wow…the outside of the house was gorgeous, but the inside definitely has it beat. The walls are a shade of gray so light it almost looks white, and the floors a dark chocolate brown shade of wood paneling. Directly to the right is the kitchen – all white cabinets, and counters, white marble countertops, and an island much like the one in my childhood home, only the stools are metal, with light teal cushions. To the left, in the middle of the large open space, there are three gray couches with red square pillows surrounding a white marble coffee table – across from which is a fireplace, with a large tv mounted on the wall. Next to that, on the left are the stairs, which I am assuming lead up to the bedrooms. On the right of the fireplace is a large hallway, which Niall leads me through.

  “The lads just went back outside to the backyard,” he scratches the back of his neck, as he walks backward whilst holding our conversation. I slide my hands into my back pants pockets and follow, “I figured it would be kind of intimidating if you walked in, and ‘dey were all just sitting around staring.” Wow, was it that obvious that I was socially awkward? I still appreciate the gesture though.

  The heels of my boots click against the floor ten more times, and we’re in front of the glass doors that lead to the backyard. People are scattered at the bottom of the porch steps, in front of a large pool. The sun causes the water to glisten as it ripples. Fuck I have to talk to people. I compose my inner thoughts when Niall opens the door for me. Immediately all of the heads – male and female turn and look at us as we step out onto the porch. My eyes land on one guy in particular - whose long brown curls reach just above his broad shoulders. He’s wearing a white tee shirt, with tight black skinny jeans, and tan brown boots. I look back up at his face only to see him smiling lopsidedly, only making him even more handsome. Shit..He knows I was staring. I avert my gaze quickly and just look down at my feet until Niall speaks. 

  “Lads come here!” Niall chirps. My head pops back up into its natural position because within an instant, three guys are making their way over to Niall and me – handsome stranger included.

  “Lads, this is Maddie, Maddie, these are your new housemates,” he nods towards the three people before me, standing at the bottom of the porch steps, smiling up at us. They seem friendly enough. I walk down, step by step.

  “Nice to meet you, Maddie, I am Louis,” The one with light brown hair and blue eyes says. When he extends his right hand, I take it shaking it gently. My eyes flicker over to the next guy.

  “Liam, good to meet you,” he offers a smile just as bright as Niall’s, shaking my hand just as Louis did. And then I look at him. He’s smiling, only this time it’s warm and inviting.

  “Harry,” he says, shaking my hand. For a few seconds, I just stare, taking in his green eyes. They’re beautiful, almost a forest green, but slightly gold in the middle. I return a smile. Someone fake coughs, making me realize I am still holding his hand, I drop it quickly and wipe the awkward smile off my face. My hands make their way into my back pockets again as the nerves settle in once more.

   Harry…I thought…not a bad name

Little did I know that very name and the face behind it would change my life forever.