My Recycled Soul (A Sample)

We eventually turn off the main road onto a neglected road, overgrown with trees and shrubs. The car bounces and jumps over the muddy ruts, which I suppose used to be a driveway somewhere before the First World War. As the driveway curves around and with one final massive bone shuddering pothole, we emerge from the foliage.

I struggle to breathe as I look at the 'manor' in horror and I have a feeling of déjà-vu. According to Rebecca, who believes in karma and all those far-out things, when you get that kind of feeling, it means you are in the right place. I never really believed her mumbo-jumbo, and I know I am most certainly not in the right place. The mammoth grey block looks more like a fixer-upper lump-a-cement than the fairy-tale picture Sean projected into our minds over the last couple of months. Months of convincing us how great a change would be for all of us. The only impressive thing to me is the miles and miles of unkempt lawn surrounding the house, and off to the side there is a gathering of inviting green trees.

Sean stops the car in front of the dilapidated building, if I can call it a building, and even my mom climbs out of the car with apprehension clearly edged on her face.

Sean rushes around the car to her side and then wraps his arms around her waist, as he laughs exuberantly. "We'll fix it, and it will be lovely. Don't worry."

I cannot help smirking. It will never be lovely.

Sean unlocks the front door and then with a smile plastered on his face and a look of adventure in his eyes, he lifts the waterfall of green wild ivy hanging in front of the faded red door.

My mom leads the way into the house, ducking under the ivy.

I glance at Sean reproachfully as I squeeze past him into the dark, dusty entrance hall.

The interior does not look as bad as the outside, but it looks old and covered with grime. A wide staircase is to the right of the door and there is a couple of doors leading off from the large entrance hall.

Esther, my ten-year-old half sister, grabs onto my hand, and excitedly she pulls me toward the stairs. I follow her apprehensively.

At first, I step onto the stairs cautiously, but they feel sturdy and well built under my feet, so I let Esther rush me up to the second floor landing.

In my new room, I see Sean had arranged for people to deliver the basic furniture. There are a new bed and a dresser, but the room is otherwise bare-looking. The faint, faded rose-covered wallpaper on the walls are peeling away in the corners, the wooden floorboards are pale and splinter looking. I try to avoid walking on the most distorted slats as I cross the room to the bed, still wrapped in plastic.