This is my family story. It’s about my grandad. And it’s 1294 words, so be warned if you decide to read it. Lol.
A disgruntled twelve year-old boy, trudged slowly down the muddy and broken road.
He kicked at the stones and dirt that crossed his path, scuffing his boots.
Ahead of him was his younger brother, who was running and laughing madly as he pretended to be an aeroplane, his thin, bony arms spread wide.
A small smile appeared on Noel’s face as he watched Stuart. A sigh then escaped his lips as he thought about what he over heard his parents talking about that very morning.
Apparently they were going to move to Australia.
‘Australia..? Of all the places they could move to, it had to be Australia..?’ Noel thought, twisting his face in disgust. To him, not only did it have a weird name, but it was a continent and an island of sorts at the same time.
Stuart suddenly stopped, wrenching Noel out his thoughts. They were standing in front of small house, with a worn green door. Stuart practically skipped towards the door, as Noel continued to trudge slowly behind him.
Stuart pulled the door and loudly announced his arrival. His mother looked up from the table, where she was knitting a grey sweater for the coming winter. She smiled at Stuart and ruffled his dark brown hair. Noel watched this affectionate exchange from the door. He sighed again and winched as his boots clopped loudly on the wooden floor, echoing around the kitchen.
“Noel, dear, could you please take those dirty boots off?” His mother sighed as she saw the state of them.
“At this rate, those boots will be goners in no time at all” she said. “And that means your father will have to work extra hard to earn a newer pair…”
Noel glared at his mother slightly and took off his boots roughly.
He quickly walked across the cold floor to the back steps.
Looking around, his boots in hand, he soon found the brush, a dirty cloth and some shoe polish. Plopping down on the hard, stone step, he began to work away at the mud crusted on the boots.
When he eventually got through the mud, he reached for the rusted tin of brown shoe polish. Opening it, he realized it was nearly empty and attempted to scrape up the few remaining chunks of the gooey substance with the cloth. Quickly, he rubbed it against the cracking leather, smoothing out the thick hide.
He finished up, and held the boot at arms length, admiring his work.
Afterwards, his body felt limp, fatigue groping at his muscles, making them tight and heavy. He dragged himself away from his uncomfortable place on the stone step, and walked slowly towards the kitchen. Before he reached its door, a delightful scent reached his nose. Dinner was ready.
A sudden energy rushed through him at the thought of food, his stomach now rumbling loudly. His pace quickened, making the house shake slightly with his sudden burst of speed.
He practically bounded into the kitchen, a huge grin plastered on his face, as he slid into the wooden chair closet to him and waited patiently for the food to be set in front of him. He saw his mum lift a rather large turkey out of the stove.
Noel’s face fell.
They only had turkey if there was good news or if there was a special occasion, such as a birthday or Christmas.
Noel knew it wasn’t anyone’s birthday, unless he was suddenly suffering from amnesia for no apparent reason. And he would most definitely know if it was Christmas, seeing as the house and town were thoroughly decorated during that season.
So, it had to be ‘good’ news. Noel already knew what it was. His parents were actually going to go through with it.
They were going to Australia.
And they were going whether he liked it or not.
“Noel? Noel?! ” His mother’s voice cut through his flustered thoughts. He looked up.
“Could you help me set the table, dear? Noel…? Are you feeling alright, you look awfully pale.” She seemed worried; you could hear it in her voice.
“I’m fine, mother” Noel replied, thinking of excuses quickly. “Just feeling a tad bit under the weather, that’s all”
She looked at him worriedly, and then shrugged it off as she began to pull crockery and cutlery out of the cupboards and drawers. Noel gently grabbed the knives and forks out of her hands and started to place them in the appropriate spots.
Soon enough, dinner was ready. Stuart and his father, who arrived during the table setting, were called to the table.
Stuart bounced about in his chair, basically bursting with excitement, while his parents sat down more gracefully. Noel just sank into his chair slowly.
His father led the meal-time grace, the holy silence appearing eerie and unnatural to Noel and the kitchen’s air was tense and cold. But these changes in the usual warmth of the kitchen went unnoticed by Stuart, who was still bouncing about, opening his eyes every now and then, to eye the food.
Eventually, the food was furiously attacked, knives and forks clattering, moans of satisfaction echoed around the kitchen. For this small period of time, even Noel forgot about the foreshadowing news.
As the last morsel of their dinner was daintily placed in his mother’s mouth, the air seemed thicken slightly, as Noel sat quietly in his chair.
His father suddenly stood; wine glass in hand, posing as though he was talking to a large audience of important people. He smiled a strained smiled, as he looked down upon them.
“Now, my dear lads, I believe I have some rather tasteful news for you two,” he said, his voice thick with an Irish accent. Noel looked at him innocently, but deep down in the depths of his blue eyes, he knew his anger was slowly making its way up to pollute his eyes.
His father continued.
“I’ve been offered a promotion, one that will earn us more pennies than it does now. But the unfortunate catch is that we have to move to Australia.”
He paused, glancing at Noel than Stuart.
“Your mother and I have discussed the situation, and we’ve decided.”
He paused again, looking at Noel suddenly stiff posture. Noel continued to stare at his father, his eyes now narrowing slightly.
“We’re going. No discussion, no ifs and no buts. It’s been finalized and that’s that.”
Noel was now glaring venomously at him. Stuart looked slightly shocked, as the information was being processed by his still developing brain.
Something snapped in Noel. They couldn’t do this to him. They couldn’t take him away from his friends, his home, his life. Of course his parents and Stuart were going to be fine. His father had work, his mother had house duties, his little brother had nine years of school left, more than enough time to make new friends and to settle in.
But what about him? Had no-one even thought of the consequences, the effect this would have one him? He only had three or four years left of school. He knew that boys would be un-accepting of a foreigner, someone with an ‘odd’ accent…
Noel stormed out of the kitchen, not caring about the noises he made. He wanted to make noise; he wanted to vent his anger with loud bangs. He reached his bedroom door, banged it open, then banged it shut and locked it.
He snorted, breathing heavily.
‘Australia, who needs it?’ he thought.
