The house had a slightly unnatural air to it. I could feel it in the gunmetal grey paint and the heavily shadowed bay windows. There were no windows below, which just struck me as beyond odd. The wood was gnarled and seemed to be only standing by sheer force.

Weeds were almost everywhere the eye touched. I glanced at my brother to see if he had a similar reaction as I did, but he only stood staring at it with a stupid kind of awe. I rolled my eyes around and turned to my parents.

"Dad," I muttered. "What house doesn't have front windows?"

"Rose," Dad beamed. "It's absolutely perfect and we'll work on that."

My mom was pulling out our luggage, mine was a measly suitcase holding most of my records, dresses and books. I'd left a vast proportion of my things behind, cause my parents thought it'd be too much to fit in the precious trunk.

I mentally rolled my eyes again. Jay got to bring his entire music studio, but I only had to take one stupid case cause yeah Rose's things would suffocate Mr Trunk.

"It's so freaking big," Jay said, his tone on the verge of excitement. "I could hold a whole concert in here, damn."

"Help me with your damned instruments," Mom said, her voice laced with an impatient bliss.

I shook my head. I had to get away from these crazy people, who were happy over an ancient windowless house. I wore my wireless beats and the music slowly thrummed through me replacing my dread and annoyance as I started walking around the house, away from my delusional family.

I swayed slightly as I walked along the side of the house. There were a couple of windows here, the panes foggy and curtained. A soft breeze swirled through the air and my hair slapped against my cheeks.

I felt at ease with shorter hair just slightly brushing against my shoulders. I'd come around to the backyard. It had an eerily mellow feel to it. There was a huge oak tree in the corner, a tire swing and some sun chairs. I suppose the owners forgot to remove them or didn't need them.

The weeds here were worse, they slapped halfway up against my denimed knees. I bent over and plucked one out, with it a clump of mud came off that sprayed onto my converse.

"Dork, we'll do the weeding some other day," Jay called out from behind me. "First get settled in for fuck's sake."

"Talk to the hand," I said, holding my palm up and then discarded the weeds.

"Not interested," he replied and looked around, his stupid smile widening. "I am only talkin to this baby."

I dusted the mud off my converse and turned to the back door.

"Is it open?" I asked.

Jay shrugged, dropping into one of the sun chairs and stretching out vulgarly. I simply ignored his existence and advanced towards the door. The door was the only thing that wasn't grey, it was painted a muddy brown, the wood chipped and faded in some places.

This house needed so much changes, I hardly knew where to start. I could hear my parents laughing in the background as I opened the screen door and then I went for the knob. It rattled once, then gave way and slowly the door slid open.

It was not entirely a movie scene, I was entering a haunted house and the door was creaking and my senses went into overdrive but it was something close to that. I felt oddly unreal entering it. I turned around and saw Jay now testing the tire swing and grinning to himself.

I turned back and entered. Music bled into my ears so with the contrast it didn't suck as much. This part of the house was lit with withering daylight. It was the kitchen and it was thankfully clean.

I stepped around the counter and walked further up a dismal corridor. Here was where the house was swallowed in shadows and that was the part I didn't like. I felt encouraged, though, by the music and the curiosity to see what the place was like and so I kept walking forward.

Beyond the corridor was a vast living room, partially lit but vacant. My breath echoed through it. I could see a flight of stairs connecting the living room and besides them a door that either led to some room or the basement.

I took a little detour towards another door at the end of the living room and idled in front of it for a while before opening it. It was a master bedroom and all the furniture from my parents bedroom was set up randomly. I could even sniff the black raspberry candle that they always placed back in their previous room.

I closed the door behind me and took off the beats, placing them around my neck. The silence struck me as surprising and I felt that very weird feeling that someone had lived here before us. I could feel it in the walls and just in the still air.

I guess my family really had driven me to the brink of insanity. I heard the screen door open with a crash and then a door at the opposite end opening. My parents high voices and my brother's voice broke the silence and the eerie feeling dulled.

"It's beautiful, Miles," Mom was saying. "And can you believe it? We have seven rooms. And we are only four. That's a waste of space."

"Honey," Dad replied. "the rest of the rooms could be used as a spare. I'd change the basement into my workplace in a few months."

"Oh c'mon," Mom mumbled. "Not a boring old workplace. Val can have his studio there, he's been looking forward to it."

"Okay, okay," Dad surrendered which he always did. "Val could have it darlin'."

"Don't call me that, ugh," Mom said while walking into the living room. "That is cheesy and I don't even like cheese."

"So, my little plum," Dad saw me and grinned while putting down the carrier bags. "Like it?"

"It's okay," I shrugged and plucked a stray thread from my shirt. "Slightly above average, I could say."

Dad laughed and kept at it for twenty seconds straight before he realized the joke had died ages ago. Jay swung into the room. In his baggy hood and jeans and messed up hair he could've impressed some druggie girls if he liked.

"So I'm gonna pick out my room," he said and then locked eyes with me. "Watchu say, wanna race?"

"You're twenty one," I muttered. "Oh, sorry, your brain is too dim witted to process that and you'll still fight me over rooms."

"Suit yourself, dork," he said and rushed upstairs.

I watched him go and felt almost tired over the effort I had to make to just get the idiot away. He was an annoying pain in the ass and I don't know what my parents had been thinking when they had him.

Mom and dad were suppressing laughter as they turned to me while arranging the things and getting ready to unpack them. They urged me to go pick out a room.

"I'm not eager to," I said, but then I just wanted to be alone for a while where me, my room and my music existed. I took hold of my suitcases handle and slowly started dragging it up the stairs.

The stairs groaned under the weight of the luggage and I was glad they didn't cave in cause they looked to be on the verge of collapsing. The frame was so loose it was a wonder that it didn't break under Jay's foot, although the idea of it wasn't that bad.

I approached the landing. It was just wooden tiles after tile which forked out into a corridor that led to four opposite bedroom doors. One of the door was open and I could hear a low humming from inside as Jay dashed around. I opened the door furthest from his room and entered.

The room wasn't that bad, the ceiling was the right kind of high and it was airy and cozy. My bed was set up in the corner along with the nightstand and my wardrobe and a single paned window.

My desk was placed in the other corner alongside my little sofa comforter and my I-mac. I opened my wardrobe which was empty as hell and only in the bottom I noticed a pair of underwear. I blushed furiously realizing the movers must've seen it and quickly threw it out.

I leaned my suitcase against the wall and pondered over what to do next. Frankly, I didn't want to do anything but well the room wouldn't just magically arrange itself.

So with the greatest effort I set about to unpacking, organizing my records and hanging up my clothes. I moved the computer desk into its rightful corner and then hung my bag on the door rack. Then I disorderly placed the books on my nightstand and dropped onto my bed.

I felt exhausted even though I'd done very little, but that was just me, little things tired me out. I put my beats back on and delved into the music kicking my legs over the side of the bed.

The shifting had drained me out. Moving all the way from Las Vegas to New York was something that hadn't just drained me out physically but emotionally. I loved our house back there with its grandma wallpaper and cottage style rooms. It was something like a hearth all warm and cozy and pristine. It was where I grew up and where my memories started. It was my childhood.

I sighed silently and gazed up at the roof. That's how life was I guess you had to leave the things you've loved behind. It was really unfair, but I couldn't do anything about that. No one could.

I had never stuck to the concept of moving on. I'd considered it bullshit all my life, but now I'd went along with it, because in the end that was the only thing you could do.

The music slowly lulled me away from my thoughts and into its soft embrace. I felt my eyes starting to close and that was the sweetest most serene feeling. Slowly, I sunk into sleep and was lost into my world of stars and galaxies.

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First story people!

Hope you guys like it!

Don't forget to vote and comment!

-P.R