Okay, this is my first Kevedd fic. I hope you guys like this :) I don't know when the next one will come out but I AM finishing this! This is fun to write and Double D seems fun to write. Its long (I guess) and alot of info for just the first chapter but I hope you guys can endure enough to want a second one!
Okay so this is going story stay M rated for reasons. SWEARING, BLOOD, DEATHS,SUPERNATURAL STUFF, LONG CHAPTERS, AND ECT.
Oh, and before I forget! I like to think of Edd as a Hispanic mostly since Im also Hispanic and its more easier to right this! It's thanks to Salty Marshmallows and her marvelous fics! Okay! I do not own the show nor the characters cuz if I did the show would be back and in Highschool!
Writing is Art. An art that uses 26 letters in different combinations that makes up a story. A story that weaves itself onto a readers mind and imbibes them right in.
The true beauty in Writing is in the mind of the reader, who willingly (without knowing it) gives the writer a blank canvas to paint on with the words they have carefully selected to show you a place in their own time in a hue of their choosing and a tone of genre.
It is simply marvelous how a reader could get lost in this art as they forget that time is ticking and how reality simply vanishes with out them knowing and out of their grasp -getting lost in this new world they will call a reality for a while, feeling as if they've lived through everything- as they concentrated in a novel of words that created a sentence that made a paragraph and later on invented a story that televised itself in their eyes.
The creators of this type of art are called Authors who have decided (just like any other artists out their) that they will achieve wealth and greatness by expressing themselves in what they enjoy doing, and that is writing.
I simply have always loved reading as young child. I learned for fun and study as a hobby when my two best friends were simply too busy to entertain me with their characteristic ways.
An only child whose parents were absent in his childhood days all the way to his adolescent years barely making it to his early twenties reminding him that he is theirs. Such remarkable parents I have, who have sacrificed being with their son so said son could live comfortable in a life were he had everything but, parents.
Even then as a 23 year old Hispanic young man, I didn't know how to act around them. Should I be formal and talk about politics or lay back and let loose? Years of not having them around have not shown me how to act around them then (and still now ) when they came knocking into my metaphorical door and barged right in. But even so, I'm glad that they can accept me for me and are trying to win back a place in my heart that was always theirs, just empty and dusty except for the silhouettes that stood in the light for what seemed an eternity.
The only times my parents ever talked to me was to know about my education. They always wanted me to be one step in front of every one and they never expected anything more than perfection. They would leave sticky notes behind with weighted words that pressured me enough to were I would collapse in my own bed and not wish to get up for anything in the world and that pushed me into finding an escape, a way to vent out everything that was jarred inside my head.
Without even realizing it, a friend had accidentally advised me to write it all down. A paper and a pencil have only ever been used in my hands to write down notes, never to paint my negative feelings in print. Before I knew it I was doing this every day and every time I will be over zealous at the thought of telling a spiral notebook about the events in my day.
This led on to many notebooks neatly stacked in my shelves by dates and before I knew it my Ap English III teacher,Mrs. Granados(1)(a woman who I could speak in both English and Spanish since she herself was Hispanic), spoke to me about trying out for a writing contest. A contest were I had to write a fictional story about whatever I wanted that won me a scholarship into the finest FineArts school in the nation. Maybe it was the moment when I submitted my work, or maybe it was when I stroked one key on my key board that landed me five hours with 40 pages and going or maybe it was when I agreed into doing this that had marked my life as an Author.
Whatever it was I am glad for it.
This was how I became a known Author as ' ' and wrote fiction for the things that I could portrait into the minds of my readers. The imagination of one was endless and struck wonders to every man.
But at the moment I seem to be in a pickle. I am in what an author fears to be in when they want to get some writing done...
This could be caused by anything, a plot in a story that is too thick to touch, a
disturbance in the force, or just no motivation and/or inspiration.
I guess that at the moment the reason for my Writers Block is due to my break up with my significant other of six fantastic years. The break up had landed me being furious for an amount of three hours trashing the exact apartment we've lived in all those six years and then later on I ended up back with my supporting parents as a sobbing banshee.
I've been here for a week now and I can't find the will to open my laptop and see any of my work, because I know that when I open it I will go back to being hay wired for the picture that I have as a screen saver; a picture of Nick and I zoomed in to our meshed up faces laughing, a picture someone took and send it to me. Luckily for me I still held on to a spiral notebook were I kept every event in my life.
He was my full inspiration to writing the trilogy of my beloved books that were at the moment famous. You could say they were Harry Potter famous but not even close. A supernatural type of story that was based of his words for the two novels out and our romance as well. Now, even thinking of simply writing something like a romantic scene or anything close to how the main character and the antagonist in the story interact had me flinching at the way my poor heart broke even more.
To think that I was in love with a man like him repulsed me now as I reminiscing all those times he had walked over me repeatedly, and yet their were more sweeter moments that were worth all the pain.
Shaking my head away from those memories I stood up from my bed and made my way out of my room and downstairs were I could hear my mother humming. I shouldn't even be thinking if Nick, my mother has been scolding me on that very fact.
"Bueno Dias Mama." I greeted her in our native tongue. (Good morning mother)
My mother was a women of pride when it came to being a Mexican woman. She was born in Nuevo Laredo, Mexico, it is a border city that two bridges led to Laredo Tx, a Hispanic city were my mother said I was born in. In a bad neighborhood were 'Fiestas' were always held, the poor lived in and gangs will roam was were she lived for 20 years. My grandmother Eva, pushed my mother through her education as she worked in a 'Carniceria' all for my mother. It was because of my Grandmother Eva that my mother sought to move them both to Laredo Tx. were my mother met my father, a Hispanic man who always meant serious business, fell in love and achieved the same goal. Together they made enough money to please but not enough time for me.(2)
My mother, a curvy tanned women with beauty marks in every part of her body, turned away from the stove to greet me with her enchanting smile, a smile that I did not inherit.
"Bueno Dias Edduardo." She replied. (Good Morning Eddward)
My mother always spoke Spanish in the house (something I learned since they've barged into my life) but none outside.
"Can I help you with break fast mother?"
She shook her head and pointed to a yellow crock next to the stove with its lid on the other side holding ready tortillas. "Me puedes ayudar con poniendo las tortillas en la mesa amor." She turned back to her rice as she turned of the fire for the tortillas, putting the last one in the crock and putting the lid askew.(you can help me by putting the tortillas in the table love)
"Will father be accompanying us in having breakfast this fine morning?" I asked. Everything was in place, the white table spread and the green tablecloths, the two windows in the dining room were open letting fresh tranquil light into the house giving us a great view of our neighbors wooden fences. Ever since my mother stepped into the house she seemed to bright up the whole place making it feel like a home instead of just a house that I've been living in for years. I wasn't complaining though it was quite strange to wake up thinking someone broke into the house when my mom turned on the radio and put her Vicente Fernandez albums.(3)
"Que dijistes?" (What you say?)
I sighed. "Papa va a comer con nosotros esta vez?" (Is dad going to eat with us this time?)
"No sweetie, el se fue temprano a trabajar." (he left early to work) She sat down two plates of huevo rancheros, beans with a dip of rice in the middle of it and brought the guacamole bowl to the table as she sat down before snapping herself right back up to get the drinks. "Que quieres mi amor? Jugo o leche? Yo lla tengo mi cafe." (What do you want my love? Juice or milk? I already have my coffee.)
I stared down at my plate. The only time I've eaten like this was back in Laredo Tx. where I mostly spent my days with my grandmother. God only knows how much I miss my Abuela Eva, such a sweet woman who thought me everything my parents couldn't, it was thanks to her that I am with a high IQ. I havent spoken to her ever since graduation when she dragged both my parents to see me. If she could see me now, she would be disappointed to see her 'Dado' depressed over a man.
I grabbed a tortilla from the crock and started to eat while my mother spoke animatedly about last night while I slept. I listen full heartedly giving her my own little replies and a few chuckles at her stories. I always loved my mother, she made my father look less frightful than usual with her on his sight. He just seemed to brake that cold look in his cyan eyes every single time (as I've noticed) when he looks into my mothers chocolate eyes.
They've been in love since the very beginning.
At that thought I envied both my parents, forty or so years in love with each other while I only had six one sided years...
I gulped down the tears trying to pretend that nothing was wrong as a laughed loudly with my mother. But a women could always tell when something was wrong with their intuition and I knew that she knew because she went silent and looked at me straight in the eye.
"Eddward." It was serious now. She did not speak English in the house unless it was important, mostly, she never said my name in its English pronunciation. "A week has passed since the day you came back home crying your eyes out, your father and I are worried of you." Her eyes showed guilt " I know,...we haven't been here for you, that we just...took you away from your Abuela and brought you here so far away from home and what's worse is that we left you- our pride and joy, alone at such a young age, but we are here now mijo," she grabbed my hand that held my cup of milk with both her soft hands and this time I couldn't help the sniff that came out of me nor the trickle of tears, "Te amamos Eduardo, y solo te quieremos ayudar amor." (We love you Eddward, and we just want to help you love.)
Half of my plate was forgotten and so was my mother's coffee as she stood and took me into her arms as I broke down in front of her. "M-Mami..." I sobbed out. (M-mommy...) I guess that had her tearing up a little as well. I've never called her more than mother like a mature person I was. She was never their for me to call her that as a little kid, but here she was with me. Holding me tight calling me her son, my head tucked in her shoulder even if I was taller than her, her gentle hands caressing my black neck length hair and kissing my neck telling me how much she loved me and that I would get through this. "I loved him, six years just to find out that it meant nothing to him! I-I can't! I can't Mami I CAN'T understand WHAT WENT ON IN MY HEAD TO FALL IN LOVE with...with..." I hesitated trying to look for a word in my big vocabulary, but I couldn't find a better words than the ones in Spanish. " UN maldito cERDO!"(a fucking pig). Mother just nodded and and tried to shush my sobbing self.
A few hours later, I got everything out of my system and needed a gulp of air. I told my mother that I would be out for a while and be back for when father got back. She seemed worried of even letting me out after my breakdown in breakfast, but she nodded thinking that it will be the best for me.
I drove around Peach Creek and then a little more farther away with the thought that maybe I could clear my head with a Cd of my favorite artists and maybe stop in the park that was out of town and closer to the forest just about an hour away from town.
But, something caught my eye a little farther from the park. It was a giant circle of doves and crows flying in two different circles of their respected shades and then mashingeach others circles together to make a huge mixed circle and then separate away from each other. I slowed down to a stop on the side of the road watching in amazement.
"What strange sequence their doing." I spoke out loud.
I wondered to myself if someone was training this birds but that would mean that who ever it was had enough patients and love for this birds to do something quite as tricky as this.
I made a decision.
I drove towards the destination of the birds with pure curiosity.
They were closer to the middle of the forest than I expected them to be. I left my car near a wooden broken down door (I would question myself about this later, surely no one lived in the woods this days.) and kept my eyes on the birds as I fast walked my way to their destination. Many ideas of why they were doing that came into mind but nothing enough to make me back down and get back in the vehicle. I watched fascinated as they went from doing a circle to looping around each other and later on zig-zagging each other.
After what felt like hours of walking I was close enough to halt and look at were i was stepping on. It was a two story house, built on what I presume to be fine yet- broken and trashed wood, a fire place soldiered itself somewhere in the back. A broken down porch that by just stepping on one of its three steps creaked in annoyance. I wince at the noise and immediately took quick careful steps up. The door seemed to be like a sore thumb since it was well taken care of unlike the rest of the house, it stood out from all the broken wood and splinters here and their with being all bright red with a shiny door knob.
As I raised my hand to touch the knob I heard the crows get louder and the doves flutter away.
I turn to look up at the sky but immediately screamed as a man in a dusty brown suit stood only three feet away from the porch with a smile.
"Good Lord man!" i yelled as i grabbed on to my chest.
I didn't know know if I was referring to his random appearance or the filthy looking suit he wore. Honestly, did he go through Hell for it to look like that?..
Holding a suit case the exact same color as his suit he took one step forward and the crows came down pecking at the grassless ground of the lawn.
"Good evening I've been expecting you." He greeted me.
All I could do was stare at him as he got close enough in a proximity were if he tried anything funny I would be able to step back and run. I stayed silent for about another second letting him introduce himself as I let all of this register in my brain. "I am Mr. Salutan Delaer, Im glad you're here and just right on time." He raised his arm towards me ready to shake hands but I just stared at him.
I gulped down a scream and raised my hand to shake his. "H-Hello?"
He acted as if my awkwardness towards him was nothing and pointed a finger at the door. "Boy am I glad that you chose this house! You have no idea how hard it is to sell a house that is in the middle of the woods. Let me tell yah my friend,...it's HARD!" He laughed and I only stared at him as if he grew a fourth head.
"Pardon? Did you just say 'sell'?" I must be hearing things.
"But of course !" He gave me a bright smile.
I shook my head and scolded my face at him. "You must be mistaken sir, I am not looking for a house and how do you if you mind my asking, but how you know that I am ?" I questioned. Certainly this man meant trouble if he knew who I was and sneaked up on me.
Was he following me the whole way through the woods?
I narrowed my eyes as he laughed even more and then grabbed the door knob forcing me to move away.
"Oh Eddward, " he shook his head as if I just said something very silly but my eyes widened at the say of my name. "You haven't seen the inside of the place, don't judge until you see it all and I assure you that you'll love it." He turned at me as he gave me another eye squinting smile and turned back and opened the door.
I gulped as the door opened with ease and fresh air -fresher than the air outside - gave me goosebumps. I grabbed on to my black beanie covering the back of my neck as he stepped in. "Come in. Come in and see its beauty."
I barely took one step in when I heard something in the wind whisper to me, and it might have been my imagination but I heard it whisper:
'Don't go in.'
I ignored it and entered the house feeling like Ive just sealed my own death. I blinked as i kept looking around at the inside.
It was big and spacious with cobwebbed furniture and broken stairs in the middle of two different hallways. The floor had some holes and so did the ceiling were a giant crystal (probably fake ones) chandelier in the middle of the room were I had subconsciously moved to.
"Filthy, filthy, filthy." I muttered as I looked at everything. Their was not one thing that seemed cleaned.
"Well you know, with a little of construction work and some good touch in decorating this place can look magnificent! I know people who can do all that for you for free in three days tops!" I turned back to Mr. Salutan D. who gesture me to follow him to one of the two hall ways.
'Why am I following this man?' I questioned myself. I was ready to stop and run back to the door but as I was about to, Mr. Salutan turned with a very serious face. I thought that this was it, he was going to kill me but all he did was bring out a card.
"I assure you, , that I am a professional, honest man of my word. This is my card to assure you that I only wish to find you a respectful house of your choosing." I took hold of the card but didn't look much at it.
"I don't mean to come out as a creepster sir, I am here to serve." He cleared his throat and adjusted his tie a little before putting up a smile."Now how about we look around? I assure you that you will fall in love with this house!" And he started to walk.
Their was this...pull, a force that had me walking with this man and their was nothing I could do. I looked back at the red door and I saw it open by itself. I stopped for a second staring at it. The wind seem to blow again and I could here that voice again, a ghostly whisper in my ear as i felt goosebumps run down my arms.
'Get out of here, don't be fooled.' It said.
But my curiosity was more greater than this voice and I turned back to see Mr. Salutan D. watching me with calculating eyes. I looked down at my shoes as I kept walking towards him, missing the smirk that played in his face for a second. "Alrighty! So if we keep going this way, you will clearly see this big doors right here. This is the kitchen!"
I tried to listen at him and look around, but it was futile once I caught the red door in my peripheral vision closing itself shut.
(1) this is a teacher of mine.:)
(2) I've put parts of my life in this story, yes I did.
(3) look him up! He is a man with a beautiful voice that many fell in love with 3
thats all for now folks! Next time...Kevin comes in!