simon cresswell {three} fin

simon cresswell {three} fin Mar 19, 2017 19:45:30 GMT -5

Quote

Post by solo on Mar 19, 2017 19:45:30 GMT -5

The Cresswells have always seemed like a nice family to you. A lovely couple, both in their late thirties, both who work at the same factory as you in the same room. They work hard, but they make it easier with the light talk that goes on between the them. You've heard them mention their children on multiple occasions. The couple, Maria and Thomas, started working at the factory about ten years ago now. You pause a moment, surprised by how long it's been. It's still fresh in your mind, the day they started working with you, picking away at the machinery with tired eyes and warm smiles. You've never actually been to their house, but you could probably tell their entire story if anyone asked, because they talk so much at the factory.

They're daughter, Anna, had been born about two years ago when they joined you. At first, it was just Thomas who came to the factory. But after a while, when the children were old enough to go to school for the day, Maria came along as well. It's not hard to guess that they needed the extra money. With two growing children, it would've been important to keep them well fed.

Simon was the eldest child's name. You know without thinking that he turned thirteen a few months ago. His mother talks about each and every one of his birthdays, explaining her plans beforehand, then telling you with a smile how it went afterwards. They were small events, perhaps they would buy him an orange and some chocolate, and of course some of the leftover machinery they'd collected over the year. Thomas always told you about how much the boy loved inventing things, how he could pull something apart, figure out how it worked, and put it back together in a matter of hours, occasionally with improvements. Maria calls him an inventor, mostly because he insists she do so. She says he's always going on about how one day he will invent a time machine and visit any point in history he wishes.

When he was seven, the boy broke his leg. You know because Maria stayed at home for a few days. From Thomas, you heard that Simon had climbed a tree down the street, and fallen in the middle of testing his hand-made wings. They told you Anna had been there at the time, that she was the one who ran to get help when her brother wouldn't stop crying. Maria told you later that he never cried. He always held it in, always kept himself together, because what was the point in crying? You recall her saying he believed it was a waste of time and energy, a pointless reaction that just took up a chunk of his day. He only ever cried when he was hurt.

On the day Anna turned eight, Thomas told you that her brother brought home a kitten for her. His parents weren't all too sure where he got it from, and they were skeptical when they saw the scrawny thing sitting inside its cardboard box, bones poking out under its grey fur. But of course, they didn't have the heart to tell Anna she couldn't keep it. So they let it stick around, feeding it once a day, doing their best to wash out the dirt from its pelt and pick out the fleas. They tell you it's still not the healthiest-looking creature. But it's stuck around for the past four years, and Simon gave it the name Bartholomew. Odd, considering it was Anna's cat, but his parents tell you that's just the way Simon is.

You've enjoyed hearing stories about the two children and their family, but you've never actually met them until today. Maria and Thomas invited you to come for dinner that night. The three of you head down the street, the sun dipping low in the sky behind you. It takes a moment for you to spot their house, but the two of them turn to the left, and you catch sight of a squat little thing tucked between two larger buildings. The roof is a little crooked, and the grass on the front lawn is yellow from the heat and lack of sunlight. When you get closer to the door, you can see dried-out flowers, planted in neat little rows beneath the window sills. A few weeks ago, they might have been violets.

Thomas goes to open the door, but just as he reaches out, it swings out in front of him, and he's forced to jump back. It takes you a moment to register that it's a young boy and girl who come racing down the steps. They whip past you, and you turn turn to get a better look. The boy is short, perhaps five feet tall, but the girl stands another couple inches beneath him. He's wearing brown shorts and a yellow-striped t-shirt, a woolen blue scarf flying behind him, despite the fact that it's the middle of summer. The boots on his feet look far too big for him, and after a moment of thought, you decide they probably belong to Thomas.

"Get back here, you twat!" the girl shrieks, but you can hear laughter in her voice. If you look closely, you can see a hand made, wooden airplane held high above the boy's head.

"Simon! Anna!" Thomas calls, cupping his sturdy hands around his mouth, "Come say hello."

The boy, presumably Simon, skids to a halt and turns around. The girl has to turn sharply to avoid running into him. Even from here, you can tell that they're both breathing heavily, and grinning from ear to ear.

By this point, they're halfway down the street, and they head back to the house at a steady jog. As the two of them turn into the yard, you can see Simon pushing up a pair of goggles he'd been wearing, mussing his blond hair as he does so. Upon closer inspection, you realize they're the goggles worn by the pilots of old planes. The two have the same face: small eyes, ears a little too big for their heads, rosy cheeks and snub noses. Simon's eyes are blue while Anna's are green. And of course, they share identical, toothy smiles.

The boy sticks out his hand and looks up at you, still panting. "Hello there, sir! You've interrupted our flight test, but we don't mind. I suppose we can see you for a bit. This is my sister Anna, and I'm Simon. Sure is nice to meet you!"

Word Count: 1089