This is a prologue to my new story, This House Is Not a Home. I'll be updating chapters every once in a while, but I'm still trying to finish my third book in my One Night trilogy before this becomes my main story to work on. Please vote and comment, it would be much appreciated :)
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“This is your room, Mitchell.”
Every single time I heard someone say that, it instilled hope into me. I jumped from home to home while I grew up and every time I did I’d look at it as a new beginning, but that hope was starting to fade. This was home number seven and it was the fourth in two years.
The room was freezing as expected for mid-January. I could see the trees blowing lightly outside through the foggy, frosted windows. The walls, floor, and ceiling were all made of wood and it was hauntingly plain. I sighed lightly and saw the breath come out of my mouth and dissipate into the air before me. I turned in disgust to the woman who led me up here, but her footsteps were already echoing from down the hall.
I laid out my belongings on the hard mattress and threw my beat down pillows towards the head of the bed. I had a few clothes to my name, including two plain t-shirts and a thick hoodie for wintertime, a pair of dark blue jeans and a pair of black jeans, a plain black snapback that I wore quite often, and then two pairs of socks and a pair of badly beat up Converse sneakers. At the moment I wore the one wool sweater I owned with a pair of sweatpants that I used for sleep and a pair of winter boots I found in the trash at my old home.
After cleaning out the cobwebs in the drawers of the dresser, I threw my clothes in and then laid out my blanket on the bed. I crawled in underneath and took a sigh of relief once my head hit the pillow. The entire room smelled like mothballs and winter air. It felt empty. That ugly feeling of homesickness came over me, but I took deep breaths until it was buried. I had no home, I just had temporary shelters that I got used to and then was ripped away from. The homesickness wasn’t rational.
Once I stopped shivering under the thin quilt I drifted off into a broken sleep.
ŞİMDİ OKUDUĞUN
This House Is Not a Home (Scomiche) (Troyler)
Hayran KurguIn this horror story, Mitch Grassi is sent to Hemingway's Home for Orphaned Boys after being kicked out of the previous shelter. He's taken aback by the amount of support all the boys show for one another and finds himself very much attracted to mys...
