I don't know if I''ve ever posted a bit of this story, but here it is for laughs. It's called "The Guardians." I wrote it went I was 14 or 15 and the Twilight craze was in full swing. I wanted to write a supernatural romance but I thought vampires were stupid. Enjoy.
This would be my last home, or at least, so that is what Mr. Hyde, my case worker, had promisied me. A promising phone call from my long-lost, estranged aunts, Beatrice and Letitah Whitney, had offered me yet another home to stay in. I had never heard of these aunts. All I knew was that they were supposed to be the sisters of my long-absent father who lived in a town no one had heard of in Washington state. Mr. Hyde beamed at the news and danced gaily about the house. I didn't know which he was happier about: losing the leech to his family for the past eleven years or the fat paycheck the company would send him for finding me a home.
The sky was just turning dark as the entire Hyde family and I piled into the old station wagon for the drive to the bus depot. THe car was old and battered, smelling of old people and... cat. Mr. Hyde prided himself on the longevity of his prized possession. I was surprised that he kept it,e ven though station wagons went out of fasion with the 80s. The first part ofo the trip was uncannily quiet. Henry and Edward, the Hydes' oversized cherub sons, slept peacefully with the front of their t-shirts covered in the crumbs of their post-dinner meal. The only noise I could focus on was the soft, rhythmic clicking of Mrs. Hyde's knitting needles over the staticky FM radio. This was going to be a long trip.