Note from the Author: I read some stories on here where Wuthering Heights and the characters were brought into modern times. This is alittle different. I found a story were Wutering Heights was given a sequel (by the same title if you're interested), so what happened to Haerton and Cathy was explained. I thought this was pretty interesting. Then I thought what if Heathcliff's (in the sequel he had a son with a woman after he ran away from Cathy and the son and mother traveled to Wuthering Heights after his death) and the Earnshaw's descendants all the way down to the present time (I didn't includes the Linton's because lets face it, their pretty weak, thei family wouldn't make it all the way to now, lol). I thought this in some ways was more interesting then just remaking the original characters for the modern times. So read and enjoy, I hope, haha.
I was born a city boy. But after a series of bad investments by my father he thought it best to leave London entirely and buy a farm area.
"So dad," I said looking out of the window "this farm, what's it called?"
"Its a grange, per se and its called Thrushcross."
"Thrushcross?" I asked.
I nodded my head and looked out, many times I find myself day-dreaming. It was written on many of my reports. I used to go to a christian academy where all of the kids were rich. I wondered what they would think when they found my country-side get away wasn't really for a vacation but permanent.
They certaintly don't go to places like this for fun I thought looking at the horizon. City boys like me never saw this much nature, harsh at that. It overwhemled me. It was dreary yet beautiful, it looked unforgiving and the air was chill and thick with fog.
"These, I believe, are called moors." My dad told me, I nodded and continued looking out.
I can't believe I'm stuck here.
The streets before this were cobbeled, the houses quaint and old. The grass was coarse and heather there were thin tracks.
Even with my dad there I never felt so alone. In the city there's always people and this was complete isolation.
When we got out of the taxi I realized the road didn't lead nowhere. I was thinking about this when a harsh wind blew me by surprise.
My dad laughed picked up his hat off the ground and said, "We have to walk the rest of the way," with another chuckle, in which I returned a glare...
We stood ontop of the moors with triumphant in our eyes after a long while. And slowly walked back, trying to regain our breath to the house.
It was hard to even tell if anybody lived there. I didn't know why anybody would want to, but then I remembered my dad saying how it had been in the family for generations and there was sentimental purposes and not just income. Which also explains its very old appearance. The firs and thorns were slanted away from the wind at the house. But the house looked solid and I knew it was, because the winds hadn't blown it away yet. The windows were tiny and it was made from dark wood. I knew it was very old because not just the appearance but also because there wasn't no doorbell, there was this big latch thing my dad took and knocked with.
Finally a man came and next to him my dad looked slight and inferior. He stood there staring for awhile but then smiled and I thought the stern look fit him more. He welcomed us in with a hearty laugh, like everything else on him. His eyes were deep brown his hair was thick black and curly, his skin was smooth but had a worker's tan. He wore simple clothes but they were clean, crisp white shirt rolled up over his forearms, clean trousers, and boots.
He showed us around the house and talked mostly with my father making jokes and small talk he only reffered to me once saying I looked "like a smart young lad."
There was a kitchen, parlour, living room and a few bedrooms. The house looked too big to only take care of a few people and I saw that some rooms indeed looked like they hadn't been lived in in awhile.
The furnishing all looked homely and I wondered why they hadn't packed yet I thought we were to live here.
He finally took us out to the stables where I saw more animals walking about in the yard. He said before we walked in, "I'm sorry, I didn't know you would be coming here so soon, my family and I hadn't had chance to pack."
"Well that's alright this house of yours looks big enough for all of us." My dad said to him, he smiled small but genuine.
He opened the stable doors and I looked at it. There were little cages and all were empty except one in the corner containing a beautiful brown horse and a equally beautiful girl.
"This is my daughter, Catherine," he said touching her gently. She had a long mane of straight jet black hair that didn't look brushed, only slightly wavy from the wind. Her body was skinny but contained power, you can tell by the way she held herself. Unlike her father she kept her scowl on us, she leaped on her horse and galloped away. Not looking if she cared if she were to hit us or not in this small confined place.
"So you don't care if my daughter were to stay here, your son and her both being teenagers?' He asked my father in the den.
"Oh no," replied my dad "my son is a gentlemen and I hope they can become friends."
He smiled at my dad like it was an inside joke and a little later we were showed our rooms
Mine was a small but a pleasant room where I saw a woman in her mid 50's making my bed.
She took my by surprise and I gasped, she rushed over to me and asked if I was alright.
"Fine," I said "Just caught me off guard."
She smiled and asked my name.
"William," she repeated "I'm Nancy the Heathciffs' maid."
I nodded again I wondered how they could afford a maid, then I thought that the woman had maybe grown accustom to the family and didn't work for much. She looked nice enough.
"So you've met the family?" She asked with a mischievous look in her eyes.
"Odd one it is." I told her, she laughed and said, "You don't know the half of it."
She was still smiling when she walked out the room and told me when dinner would be served shortly.
I fell asleep shortly after, and woke up feeling cold. I thought it strange. No window was open. But I blamed it on the fact I had no blanket. My dad told me it was time for dinner and I followed him into the dining room with the Mr. Heathcliff. The girl was there looking bored, when she saw us she tossed her head away.
The man let my dad have his ordinary seat at the head I sat on his left. And the girl and man sat on the opposite end.
The house keeper from before was a fairly good cook. The man and girl ate little and played around with it. Me and my father gobbled the food down, because we hadn't ate since the day before. Nancy watched over us, smiling at me and dad happy with her food.
There was little conversation and we left for the night pretty soon.
The night plays tricks. I know this. So I tried to not let the things I saw bother me.
But the howling of the wind wouldn't let me sleep, then I heard something scratch the windows.
I got up to see what it was, a tree branch I figured.
Then I saw it. The pale face of a woman, with eyes opened wide. "Let me in!" She screeched awfully, from fright I shielded my eyes and fell down.
After awhile I had enough guts to stand, and all that lay before me was the vast, stillness, and complete darkness of the moors.
I couldn't sleep, I couldn't take my eyes off the window, part of me wanted it never to return the other wanted to see it, for reassurance it was there and curiousity.
I saw the sun rise and I did too, making preperations or the first day of school.
I saw the maid come to make my bed, I wanted to tell her. I somehow thought she'd accept it. But I didn't.
The girl and me rode to school together that day in complete silence. Didn't even know she had a car, all I ever see her ride is that dumb horse.
The school was actually refreshing everyone was relaxed and not snobbish and the building wasn't threatening like my old school or the mansion my dad bought.
It was the first time I was introduced to the Yorkshire accent. Some people talked it so thick I could hardly make out what they were trying to say. That girl Catherine didn't let it in her speech, even though she lived there, like she was too smart for it and her father when saying some words let it creep out.
I, with an actually helpful kid, found my homeroom class. It was small room, the desks piled closely, the teacher was smiling behind her oak desk with her name "Ms. Charlette" written in currsive on the old blackboard, she had decorated the room with educational, cheesy posters. I never saw a happy looking teacher before, let alone in high school. That was refreshing also.
I sat next to the helpful kid from before. He had fair hair and skin. He introduced himself as Lenny, short for Lennard. Like I had to be told that. I said, "Hi" back then looked around the room.
All the kids were laughing, catching up waiting for the bell. I noticed that girl sat a few seats over.
"What do ya know 'bout her?" I asked discreetly gesturing.
"Cat," makes scense, Catherine to Cat, "What d'ya wanna know?"
Just then a boy entered the room. I didn't know because I was looking there, I knew because everyone shut up and then I looked around to see what was going on. I knew it was him they were all looking at because he looked like the popular boy at school; in a Letterman's jacket, handsome, muscular with thick brown curly hair and tall. I guess he was the quarterback the way he recieved attention with a big grin and his eyes sparkling and the way the girls looked anxious to get to know him and the guys staring trying to imitate him. Also a good size group of jocks behind him, symbolic of his leadership role.
Him and the others walked over to a group of boys in back also wearing the same letterman's jackets. Their jackets all had black sleaves and black Stallions under it was large black horse, the rest was white. They greeted eachother with weird handshakes and chest bumps. Then girls followed.
Strangely he didn't sit in back with the rest he choose a seat ahead of Cat, odd how nobody sat there already like it was reserved for him. He placed his jacket on the back of the seat and his book bag to the left. All while facing her and then looked at her directly, and she did the same. Even more strange, he put his hands down on the sides of her desk and leaned in closer to her, she first stared at his hands then his face spitefully.
"Ya have a good break?" I heard him ask in a Yorkshire accent, not at all covered up, she uttered something I didn't hear over the bell and probably wouldn't care to repeat (from the look on her face), he frowned and took one last glace then sat.
The lady although patient at the beginning, got rougher and rougher as the class wore on. Starting at taking attendance the boy raised his hand instead of saying "Here," she was about to freak, I won't even mention when a kid said "Yeah." And by the start of class she was out for blood.
Some teachers like to pick on clowns or trouble makers, others like to pick on jocks. I think this is because the were probably in band or something and got picked on by them (I think Ms. Charlette was probably in Drama class) now they want revenge, and in the classroom, jocks make easy pickings.
She started with the big one, "Heath?" She aked he was picking his nails and looked up. "Wanda," he said in the same tone, the class snickered. She tilted her head and thought of a good one.
"Tell me the pros of the industrial revolution."
"My pleasure," he said "Before we were simple, it modernized us and led us into the 21st century making our lives easier and more pleasurable."
The class smiled satisfied with their leader's response to her question.
"Very good does anybody have any response to-"
Then, Cat said, "What about the ramafacations, people grew poorer and poorer, while the rich got richer and richer. The terrible factories they had to works in with little or no rights, for very little pay. They were better off before."
The class "Ohhhed". And Heath looked ready for the challenge, "People's lives are better now because of it, they're not ignorant anymore, they're smarter, they live longer and live comfortable, healthy lives."
In less then 5 minutes flat we had a civil war one side (jocks and preps) taking his side and on the other side taking her's (everybody else). I'm pretty sure I never saw anything like it in my life; people going nuts about history, at least in high-school.
The teacher finaly managed to calm it down and ordered them both to the principal's office.
The two huffed and slung their things over their shoulder's. Catherine making the loudest complaints, "Try to make a class interesting," and slammed the door shut. :End Of Chapter 1!
A/N: The next parts get way more in depth and interesting. Yes I kept the area pretty much the same as the original because it actually hasn't changed much since then. Stay on the look out! And review!