The August Project
Welcome Home
And so it begins.
It was my fault, really, or so my parents tell me. Though honestly I really do think it’s all because of me. We’re moving. Well, we’re almost there actually. In West Virginia there is a little town called Point Pleasant. I think the name sounds good enough, don’t you think? It sounds promising and well, pleasant.
I hurt my shoulder badly and had to get surgery before we moved. That’s why we moved in the first place. Mother was most displeased with the fact that I couldn’t perform anymore. She grounded me or something of the sort. The term makes no sense, does it? Everyone is on the ground already. Though I suppose I’m in the car so I’m not actually touching the ground, but the wheels of the car are. Thank you, gravity.
Anyways, here we are, Point Pleasant, West Virginia. I can’t really tell what to make of it yet. There are farms on the outskirts and small shops in the “down town” area. I’m used to small towns though. I was born in one, but I moved around when I hit seven years old. Then the circus became my home.
Now this new place was home. Father says there is a barn in the backyard which they made into a gym for me. I can’t perform anymore, but I can still practice. I pondered this thought as Father pulled into the driveway. Before us stood an old farm house, complete with a white picket fence and a bright red mailbox.
“Delilah, go unpack your things,” my father said gruffly from the front seat.
“Okay,” I muttered in response, obediently fetching my things from the trunk. Truth be told there wasn’t a heck of a lot to unpack. The movers already brought everything. I grabbed Moo Cow and my suitcase and headed upstairs.
From my bedroom window I could see the front yard and some of the neighbours’ yards. One moment everything was fine and dandy, the next there was a half nude boy on the other lawn! Shocked and surprised by this, my jaw dropped slightly and I quickly went to shield my eyes. To think, the boy was wearing pajamas outside. He needed to get some pants and a proper shirt on before anyone else saw him.
There were actually several people in the town that needed to put proper clothing on. That was something I didn’t quite understand. Mother always told me to dress concealed, yet other people did not. Mother said they were sinners. I certainly don’t want to be a sinner. God would be most displeased.
I grabbed my knitting and headed outside once my things were unpacked. My new room, which happened to be painted a lovely lilac, was pretty bare. My old furniture had been moved in, but this room was bigger. I had started working on a blanket for it, but still had a ways to go. Like the room, it was also a soft lilac.
When I got to the back yard, I found it to be fairly large. We have a lot of property here, considering this used to be farm land. The houses are much closer together, but they left up the old barn. It seemed like it might crumble to bits at any moment, but I had faith in the old thing.
On the porch was a nice, white rocking chair. Either it was left by the previous owners or Mother bought it for the new house. Regardless of how it got there, my bum found it’s way over there for me to sit down. In the distance someone was mowing there lawn and far out on our weeping willow tree I could hear the birds chirping.
For some reason, the place just sounded too quiet to me. Huh.
It was my fault, really, or so my parents tell me. Though honestly I really do think it’s all because of me. We’re moving. Well, we’re almost there actually. In West Virginia there is a little town called Point Pleasant. I think the name sounds good enough, don’t you think? It sounds promising and well, pleasant.
I hurt my shoulder badly and had to get surgery before we moved. That’s why we moved in the first place. Mother was most displeased with the fact that I couldn’t perform anymore. She grounded me or something of the sort. The term makes no sense, does it? Everyone is on the ground already. Though I suppose I’m in the car so I’m not actually touching the ground, but the wheels of the car are. Thank you, gravity.
Anyways, here we are, Point Pleasant, West Virginia. I can’t really tell what to make of it yet. There are farms on the outskirts and small shops in the “down town” area. I’m used to small towns though. I was born in one, but I moved around when I hit seven years old. Then the circus became my home.
Now this new place was home. Father says there is a barn in the backyard which they made into a gym for me. I can’t perform anymore, but I can still practice. I pondered this thought as Father pulled into the driveway. Before us stood an old farm house, complete with a white picket fence and a bright red mailbox.
“Delilah, go unpack your things,” my father said gruffly from the front seat.
“Okay,” I muttered in response, obediently fetching my things from the trunk. Truth be told there wasn’t a heck of a lot to unpack. The movers already brought everything. I grabbed Moo Cow and my suitcase and headed upstairs.
From my bedroom window I could see the front yard and some of the neighbours’ yards. One moment everything was fine and dandy, the next there was a half nude boy on the other lawn! Shocked and surprised by this, my jaw dropped slightly and I quickly went to shield my eyes. To think, the boy was wearing pajamas outside. He needed to get some pants and a proper shirt on before anyone else saw him.
There were actually several people in the town that needed to put proper clothing on. That was something I didn’t quite understand. Mother always told me to dress concealed, yet other people did not. Mother said they were sinners. I certainly don’t want to be a sinner. God would be most displeased.
I grabbed my knitting and headed outside once my things were unpacked. My new room, which happened to be painted a lovely lilac, was pretty bare. My old furniture had been moved in, but this room was bigger. I had started working on a blanket for it, but still had a ways to go. Like the room, it was also a soft lilac.
When I got to the back yard, I found it to be fairly large. We have a lot of property here, considering this used to be farm land. The houses are much closer together, but they left up the old barn. It seemed like it might crumble to bits at any moment, but I had faith in the old thing.
On the porch was a nice, white rocking chair. Either it was left by the previous owners or Mother bought it for the new house. Regardless of how it got there, my bum found it’s way over there for me to sit down. In the distance someone was mowing there lawn and far out on our weeping willow tree I could hear the birds chirping.
For some reason, the place just sounded too quiet to me. Huh.