The town of Delibay is a remote one, a ghostly one, regarded invisible by travellers passing by, but somehow you felt like the only ghost there. It acted as a confinement for lost souls, refugees, immigrants and nobodies taking shelter there, who found peace of mind and built their own homes, working together and soon forming a community.  

There, nothing short of clear skies dotted with few dark clouds could be seen during spring and fall, heavy mist slithered about the streets on most nights and scant rainfall was a frequent combined ambience. Only the townspeople could be used to such a dull environment, but not you.

It was a bother.

Everything, from the moment cold droplets splattered on your head from above, to the pulsating ache in your muscles as your hands whitened and shake, dragging behind you a bear–sized luggage, lastly reaching the steps of your new home with chest heaving, soaked in sweat and rain, was a huge bother. 

 The day you had turned 14, instead of being celebrated normally with birthday cakes and confetti, you were rushed to go along a sudden move to a town you've never heard of until this day. Your slow reaction was beaten by your parents whirling the house like tornados on a time limit, squeezing every single content into the suitcases owned. It had turned 10 in the morning when your family jumped into the car wide–eyed, starting the engine. Donning on an oversized jacket that hid your barely clothed self, half a breakfast of oatmeal had settled in your stomach when the safety strap around you and the bags beside, clicked into place, sealing your fate in the backseat. Your eyes stay turned the entire ride, staring back at the shrinking now–empty house full of short memories with a 'for–sale' sign standing by, and glowing streetlights speeding by into a rapid blur. 

Breathing heavily, you leaned against the pillar and closed your eyes for a short time. At least you thought it was a short time before a shout pierced through the door and interrupted your light snoring. "Holly! Hurry inside already, it's raining!" No more resting for you.      

"Yes Ma, I'm coming!" You covered your yawn as best as you could from Ma overhearing, and collected what remains of your strength to begin hauling the bag inside the new house. Leaving behind in your wake, neatly piled soggy shoes near the door and wet footprints on the wooden floor that trailed.  

Crawling up your spine, a numbing chill sank in your bones and spread out with each step you took in god knows direction. Pause. Your teeth clenched, legs squeezed together from a dreaded heaviness below as if gravity was the only force acting on your bladder that doubled. You really needed to go. Fast.

One problem, you had no idea where the bathroom was and your parents seemed to disappear and reappear at random intervals, bearing an energetic high like hamsters running around an unexplored enclosure. There was no opening chance for you to ask them inbetween their enthused haste and besides, would they even be able to hear you amidst their endless chatter. You shook your head.

You managed to hold it in for a little longer. Hopefully.

Discovering the stairs was easy, you climbed the darker wooden surface, a hand stroking the simple designs on the smoothe railing while the other touched the gritty wall for support. The second floor held nothing for the eyes to rest on; only plain doors, dull doorknobs, and a long round edged hallway with a single mirror attached to the end wall, giving the illusion of an expansive second floor to how Ma would've loved. 

You opened every door, squeaks giving way with every gentle turn of a doorknob. You peeped into each room, enough for a quick examination in the dim lighting before shutting the door. when finally with great relief, you obtained the bathroom for business and as if a boulder had left your body, you left the second floor feeling refreshed but with a still bearable cold in your body.

You descend the stairs with a steady bounce, "Ma! Pa! I found our rooms." You say loudly once on the ground–level, your words echoed for a moment as though announcing the best news ever told in history and it was, as a part of you felt jitters from the thought of having your very own room no one could barge into at their whims.  

Walking in the living room, it seemed cleaner than when you walked pass it earlier, free of the suitcases that laid in disarray and wet splotches all over the floor. You came into view of your parents laying feet out on the beige couch, their opened mouths gasping for air like how your old fishes blubber once out of water. Your father leaned his head back in your direction and bellowed out a warm laugh, "good job, cupcake!" 

With his charcoal disshelved hair set with a bright eyed smile mirroring yours, you felt like looking into a mirror of who you'd grow into in the future. "Ah— why don't you go wash up while your momma and I cook up something for dinner. We have a special surprise for you later so take your time!"  

"Okay, Pa." You replied in a heartbeat.

Hearing Pa's words, immediately your ears perked and smile widened an inch. Mama never helps papa in the kitchen unless he has a plan... Which has only happened a few times and each time your ma always intervened scolding him for something probably trivial. But this time was different, it had to be, you know it. After all, today IS your birthday. A special day that only arrived once every year. 

You then heard a sharp tongue clicking and Ma raised her long arm from around Pa's shoulder, pointing a half painted nail to the storage door behind you. "Go take your luggage to your room! Don't waste time, you need to look presentable Holly." Your Pa nodded agreeing, "for a special day, you should look special too, Cupcake." 

You bopped your head automatically, unconsciously twiddling the hem of your wet clothes. "Yes yes Ma," you say, a reassuring tone on your tongue. 

And off you continued your way to the storage, struggling to pull your luggage up the stairs and unpacking your home–load into your new bedroom that smelt of old leaves and harsh morning winds flowing in through the dark silky curtained window that looked in need of a cleaning. Everything didn't feel so different from your previous home as it should've, of course it is no surprise that from every careful step you took and with every short breath, you couldn't help the feeling of being misplaced. 

Imaging yourself floating above the room, you watched as your body worked to put away your belongings on auto pilot, showing no sign of noticing the pale yellow light stretching from the window and reaching the feet of your small form until the orangey glow swallowed up the entirety of space with you in it. You didn't know what's the time or where your parents kept the clocks, but suspected it's the beginning of afternoon from the brilliant light, meaning you had to hurry or else.

"There you go," you muttered, placing down the last stuff animal to join the discoloured rest. You patted their fluffy heads goodbye for good measure and withdrew from the bed, anyone who is anyone could tell from one glance that the toys were very well loved as they formed an eyesore on the head of the large bed. You stopped in your track as another chill ran across your body at an alarming rate, you ran to shower.

If you had gone to shower any later, you'd be freezing, you sped up in the bathroom, towel–dried your hair and then changed. There weren't many options as you'd like when sifting through the closet, so you shrugged, shimmying into the easiest dress you owned; a long off–shoulder white floral print dress, laced in frills bunched at the hems and pinned in the shape of carnations left unnoticed and flattened from the ridiculous amount of times worn and washed and repeat.     

You spun infront of the mirror, the princess–like motion swirled your dried short black hair and creamy dress effortlessly around you before dropping in place like floppy wings by your sides. As you walked down the stairs, you paused, smelling spice and an oniony sweetness wave through the air, and picking up your pace, you practically jumped to the living room as your stomach commands.  

Along the way, you finally took a second glance around and concluded that it wasn't so bad, at least that's what you could conclude so far for today. The entire house had a consistent palate of cooling greys and ivory that coated every textured wall which matched the furnishing as well as decor, carrying an aura of a dignified haunting from a look at the outside and in. The circular ceiling lights shone a white brighter than the lightbulbs back in the old house, and there was enough space to run about wildly without losing momentum, even the bedrooms were spacious enough without the seperate bathrooms. 

You couldn't tell if you liked it or not, it was just another means to tolerate for your parents. But it was all too much, too affordable, too generous for a family of three. You couldn't believe it, your parents would never choose such a dreary place for us to live in, have their taste really changed? Ma's possibly but never pa's.  

"Holly! Sit yourself well– and no fidgeting please."

At the call of Ma, you brushed aside the cluttering thoughts and with a skip in your feet, headed to the lengthy black dining table accompanying 6 ladderback chairs, and pulled yourself a seat. No doubt Ma is watching as you rested your hands on your lap, back pushed up comfortably against the hard wood that spared no excuse to not straighten your posture and waited.  

You spotted Pa in the kitchen, his back facing you as he hummed a forgotten tune, his appearence much tidier and fitted in a shirt and pants that didn't sag. It was a surprise, not a first but still a surprise for your father to be dressed up inside, you'd usually see him wearing his reading glasses with hair clipped back and clothes hanging off his body.

Before you could ask him, your stomach rumbled again. How long was it going to take for dinner to arrive, the thought of delay starved at the moisture that long been collected in your mouth. Ma wouldn't like the trouble of you asking, so you stayed quiet and stared at the empty space on the table until a firm knocking came from the front–door. 

Knock. Knock.

"Pa! Ma—"

"Coming!" Ma's voice bursted from the top of the stairs drowning yours out, lively and enriched in colour as her attire, an ombre full–skirt dress with a flare of fabric at the top and bottom and her velvet hair curled into a flowery bun on her head. The knocking rang a second time. "Coming!" She said again, this time taking a–hold of the doorknob and answering, and upon taking a step back, beckoned inside two equally flamboyant dressed women whose pale smiles nearly blinded you.

You panicked, flicking your gaze downwards, your fingernails burrowing into meaty thighs. You let go of a sigh, relieved that Ma didn't catch your wandering eyes this time. No punishments today, you promised yourself.

"Mrs Baker, at last, what a pleasure for us to meet," a deep feminine voice said, a buttery smoothness tailing her every syllable. "Oh no, it's my pleasure, believe me!" Ma's sugary pitch jumped, you hear a distinct smile as she speaks, "please, come on in. You are both perfectly on time to join me and my husband for dinner."

"Lovely," came the deep reply, sounding very pleased. Then followed up by a soft tinkering voice like fresh air, "good timing, indeed!"

You stilled in your seat as cheery laughter, chitchat and collective footsteps grew closer to the table. The scrapping drag of the chairs provided no disruption in cutting off their continual conversation as your Ma, poised and graceful, sat herself on your right as the two women chose to sit directly across from you, still bearing big smiles so contagious you couldn't resist greeting them with one in polite return. Quickly, of course, since Ma is right beside you.

"My, what good manners the little one has. How old are you, child?" the airy voiced woman asked. You slightly opened your mouth to answer when you felt a warning pat on your hand. 

"14," Ma said, her olive cheeks brightening, "my daughter has just turned 14 recently."

"How nice! Christine and I have a son her age as well—" 

"Amazing!—" And the chatter continued.

A frantic movement in the corner of your eye brought your mind to the happenings in the kitchen, the recognizable bumbling of large hands using a hand–towel to dry, no doubt Pa is itching to talk.

"I've never been more glad I made enough for a feast," Pa says heartedly and brings over to the dinning table a large steel pot, his ovenmit hands releasing the shiny handles once the bottom met with the woody ground surface.

You excitedly raised your head upon breathing in strong whiffs of whatever deliciousness was in store, watching with keen eyes as Pa removes the steel lid, revealed rolls and rolls of savory smoke that rose and gathered in the room. He skillfully ladled big portions of steaming hot noodles with soup, and poured into everyone's porcelain bowls without letting a single droplet fall.

He took his seat at the end of the table on your left, with opened arms dramatically, "dinner is served!" Everyone, excluding you, gave a small cheer, then you joined the adults when beginning to dig into the food.

You chewed quietly and as fast as you could, ignoring even the burning numb of your tongue. The conversations were a bore. 

The blonde haired woman whose voice is as airy and high as a songbirds, applauded lightly, "you outdid yourself once again! You must cook for my love and I one of these days now that we are neighbours, Marriot. It surely won't be too much trouble, we are right next to each other! And as always, of course, we'll pay very handsomely." She leaned her chin against her palm, copying a look you've seen on Ma rarely. 

Pa stuttered after swallowing hard a spoonful of soup, "that sounds amazing, Jemma. I would love to but I'll still need some time to get used to the new kitchen and..." 

"Ahem," the clearing of a throat from your Ma made Pa look over for a split second, then nodding with full vigor and face aflush.  

"... I can make some time in my shedule," Pa swallowed once again, his smile widening in extra assurance. 

Jemma's eyes lit up like she won something. "Oh, please do!" And the dark haired woman next to her chuckled deeply, "pardon my wife, Mr Baker. She has turned into a food–fanatic these days, an unsurprising reaction for skills from a chef such as yourself." 

You see Ma's head nodding at her every word, arching her back in pride. You just wanted to get this dinner over with and fast, the soup had long lost its heat in your mouth. 

        . . . . Time flies, fluttered its wings without bringing notice to it and before you knew it, the clock's hand delicately lands on 4 in the evening light— its shadow burying the indicating number of minutes. . . .

A sharp clang came from across the table, a silver fork clanked as it fell onto the plate following the spoon that has dropped earlier from Jemma's loose grip, her arm frozen, her blunt stare unwavering from the tiking clock as she spoke sofrpt and slow. "Oh my, it's gotten so late—"  

"–Very late," comfirmed Christine, a deep disappointing sigh leaving her. "Mr and Mrs Baker, it has been a pleasant experience dinning with you two. And the little one too." You were noticed. 

Why, were you not silent enough? You needed more work on that for sure, you nodded to yourself internally. Ma didn't say anything so it must've not been a bad thing, for now.

You collected all the empty bowls and washed them at the kitchen sink as Ma and Pa steered the two women to the door, giving brief embraces and exchanging light kisses on the cheeks and sweet farewells. It wasn't unusual for you to see your parents being very affectionate with guests, but it did feel odd and warm inside of you whenever you peeked at the faint lipstick marks Mother left on their smiling faces and the sliding of Father's hands wondering down arching backs. 

Pa and Ma never shared that much intimacy with you, maybe it's a family thing you haven't been taught yet. You hoped for the day to come sooner, it looked alot of fun and sweet. Patting your hands dry after you set the clean dishes in the drawer, Ma initiated a conversation with Pa when a sudden sneeze erupted out of no where.

They stared. It was from you, standing with goosebumps, red nosed and forehead beading with sweat. Ma huffed, complaining about something as she made you change your clothes and take medicine while Pa tucked you into your bed, taking his time to brush your hair aside so it wouldn't stick to your skin. 

"Happy birthday, cupcake," he whispered and closed the bedroom lights on his way out. Things could've been worse, really.

You were grounded for the whole week, how sucky. Stuck to bed for the night with a fever cooling pad glued onto your forehead that Ma placed, nose sniffling every few minutes but thankfully Pa set a few tissue rolls on the night stand, feeling sore and heavy all over. 

That was how you caught a cold on your birthday. But the best gift you got was a bigger bedroom to be honest. Pulling the pillow against your chest, you tightly hugged it. Pushing your flushed face into it, you tried to extinguish the growing smile on your pursed lips as drops of pearls drip down your cheeks. Today it wasn't a perfect day but you'll adjust just fine, you encouraged yourself. 

The moonlight streaming in through your window like pale hands brushing along your form, almost soothing you to a much needed dreamless sleep.

Your 14th birthday ended just like that. No other choice but to rinse and repeat for the rest of the year in this mind numbing, boring town where nothing interesting ever happens as far as you saw through the windows. Only adults in petticoats, few young–looking people walking their pets, and the elderly strolling by. 

Though you couldn't find any other faults living here than the curious eyes of a gray haired boy. The more time you spend your days inside your bedroom, his occasional peering at you from the glass window became more of a routine. There were no exchange of words, his expression remained the same blank look you gave him.

You waved to him before once, in the middle of organizing your stuffed animals. There wasn't much else to do. He bolted, seeming startled and dashed off. Zipping close his windowsills white curtains. What a nosy neighbor's kid. 

Yet you waited and waited leaning against the curtains, the sun grown tired of waiting along and had long been gone. The stars lining up in the black sky brought your drowsy self to another thought, to wait for the boy another day. But as soon as you turned your back to the window, a mild thud from behind hit the floor and rolled. Looking down, laying at your heels is a small shiny pebble. How did that get in, the wind wasn't so strong. 

Then you reached down and grabbed it, the pebble light and warm in your palm. You neared the window and there the boy stood, staring, his room's lights appeared to give a soft halo around him. It was breezy at night, the cold winds whipping against your cheeks. The boy lifted a hand and held it there in the air, not a wave but it counted for something as you reflected his action. 

And he did something you never expected; reveal a full teeth smile. 

For the remainder of that night, you didnt toss and turn in bed and stared at the pebble held inbetween the stuffed paws of animals. 

The town isn't so bad after all, you concluded. You felt that growing loneliness simmer, and you knew why. You won't be the only one feeling this way, after you grounded yourself strictly to your bedroom. 

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