by LoadedPhilly » Mon Sep 24, 2018 2:29 pm
Allen Taylor
location; entrance gate, front steps
tags; x
Hawaii was supposed to be blue skies and long surfing days. The beaches were supposed to be hot, the water a baptism from the brilliant sun, and his mother was supposed to be sitting in a massive sun hat with one of her favorite books in her dainty hands. Allen was entirely sure that this must not be Hawaii, then, considering all that he could see outside the tinted windows of the SUV was a dense forest that greedily captured the sky with its canopy. He glanced at the driver, alltogether sullen looking and entirely non-talkative, then at the vehicle’s clock that felt just slightly wrong from jet lag. He returned to gazing out the window at the unchanging wall of green and brown, wondering what his mother was up to.
The manor gates appeared through the labyrinth of plants, foreboding in their looming. As they swung open, Allen shifted in his seat with unease, earning a stony look from the driver that had not given a name. Charcoal vehicle clearing the opening, the metal gate made its steady way back to its resting place and softly creaked a goodbye. On the other side, still no sandy beaches.
The SUV eventually came to stop at the front of a massive gothic manor, the driver bidding the doors to unlock and turning a sharp look to Allen as a prompt to exit. He didn’t need to be told more than once to get out of the suffocating silence, instead opening his door and climbing out to the balmy air and listening to the birdsong of the neatly contained treeline. By this point, he was entirely unsure where his luggage was but hoped that it would find its way to him by some chance. He had a small carry-on bag containing his in-flight items — a sloppy-looking surf bag that had seen the sun and water often enough to have faded from navy to a powder blue. Slinging the bag over his shoulder, he stepped forward and closed the door to the dark, FBI-type car before it drove away and left him at the tall front doors.
Between the jet lag and the general unsure nature of being at such a place, Allen couldn’t fathom going through the doors just yet. If he went in, that would mean that it was all actually happening. Rather than enter and begin whatever interactions and activities that awaited, he took a moment to eye the towering walls and mourning-looking windows. What happened to grass skirts and drink shacks? “This is great,” he breathed, speaking to nobody in particular.
Above the practical cathedral, the sky carried on in a cheery blue. Allen smiled a bit, the expression lingering and relieving his chest from the oppressiveness of the manor’s presence. At least the sky met expectations.
