A small glint of bronze light hit Tommy's eye. The teenager squinted and shifted his head to the left, causing his white earphones to slip. He groaned at the slight absence of sound on his left, but he still dutifully carried the cardboard box up to his new room.
Every time he looked around the room he could envision more and more of his future room, the posters that would soon dot the walls, the friends and others he could bring around. He pushed back the errant earphone into its rightful place.
"Tom!", his father's deep voice reached over the melodious voice of Frank Ocean and jolted him out of his fantasy, "Get down here! We still have boxes to move!".
Tom's scuffed size nines leapt from wooden step to wooden step, his feet continuing to move along the pavement at the front of the house until he reached the back of the moving van. Mr Jackson greeting him with a handful of smooth, papery box - the barely dried marker leaving a sharp smell in the boy's nose, causing it to screw up in dissatisfaction. Stumbling slightly due to the offending smell, the adolescent set off on his journey slowly, this time to the Jackson's new garage. Again, a glimmer of light hit his eye - the young Jackson moved his head all around to catch the culprit, which was, unbeknownst to him, hiding in the weeds of his new front lawn. His head shifted once more, but skillfully enough to not displace his earphones. He quickened his pace slightly, annoyed by this bothering twinkle, to see his rottweiler sleeping in the new kitchen. Sprawled out like he had moved all the boxes, rhythmic breaths leaving his body revealing his furry underbelly to the world. Tom thought to himself - "I think I'll join you later Jet."
As the youth reached the garage, his mum stood in the doorway on the phone to the estate agent, holding a case which definitely didn't belong to them with a protruding golden lock staring outwards. It was a strange receptacle, Tommy wondered what the previous owners had done with it. Did it store money? Treasure? As the boy sat there pondering it previous use, he simply did not know what he would do with it.
(I can't find a way to start a new chapter, could someone help me lol sorry :/ but its only 3 chapters and they're all relatively short)
The Jacksons had finished their moving in for the day and Tommy's older twin brother and sister had come down from University to see the new family home. The teenager bet that they had only come down at this time to avoid moving in, but the joke was on them, because Mr Jackson had employed the help of Travis to set up the new wifi box, and Mrs Jackson had dragged Trinity into the kitchen to make a meal. That left the youngest Jackson alone with Jet. Now awake from his nap, the young rottweiler pawed at the front door urging his owner to take him on a walk in the new neighbourhood. Tommy knew that his power was limited here and almost simultaneously turned his head with the dog to look at his mum, puppy eyes in full effect. A quick shake of the head made her decision clear.
"Why don't you go look for the ball thrower?", Tommy's mum suggested, "I left it somewhere in the garage".
Swiftly, the boy ran to find the toy for his 4 legged friend, searching through the seemingly never ending pile of boxes labelled "Trinity's or Travis' stuff". In the rush, he knocked down the intricately detailed box. Jet sniffed around the mysterious thing, opting to lick it. Varnish coated his pink tongue causing a bitter, sharp taste to form. His head shook as to shake off the offensive tang. Tommy's head burst through the pile, right hand victorious, armed with a neon green tennis ball and a blue ball thrower in the left, he emerged from the pile, stepped over the cryptic box and led Jet outside. The companions threw the ball back and forth in the malnourished weeds of the garden, at times hitting the pear tree, sending another rotten fruit tumbling to the ground but the young Jackson didn't even notice.
All he could think of was that box.
Gold leaves furled on the sides, contrasting against the chipping purble-blue varnish. The dusty keyhole, waiting for its partner.
He continued to throw the ball unenthusiastically and thought back to this morning. Again, a glare hit the boy's eye. That glint, the bronze light. The more he thought about it, the brighter it seemed to get. He had to look for its source. Tom's enthusiasm or the lack thereof had rubbed onto Jet, who was now dropping the ball at his young owner feet and haughtily walking away, with his black nose high in the air. This didn't shake Tom instead, he threw the toy to the side and became more animated than he had ever been.
He tore away into the garage, checking underneath every cardboard box and wooden shelf - he had to find it. High and low the boy searched.
And then. It struck him.
The front garden, that's where the first glint hit him. His scuffed shoes flew once again, this time through the kitchen, prompting a scream from his sister and a "boy what do you think you're doing!" from his mother. The front door was flung open and like a madman, Tommy searched, frantically looking through the knotted tangles of grass. Finally, something shined out.
Finally, Tommy pulled out a key through the tangled mess of weeds and grass. He held it to the sun, forming an all too familiar glint. So, this was the culprit, what he had been looking for. "Tom, Dinner!" Mrs Jackson called, he slipped the key in his pocket, to be used later.
The teenager walked into the house, scents of savoury treats wafted at his nose, luring him in, waiting to be eaten. The seasoned Mac N Cheese winked seductively. Chicken, turkey and duck joining the high pitched harmonies, a serenade to draw Tom in, a melodious orchestra of flavours. Mr Jackson's handy knife carved through the turkey, his intricate cuttings slicing off a piece of white meat here, trimming off a gelatinous forming of fat there. Soon, each member of the family ended up with a generous serving of turkey, gravy, macaroni, green beans and potatoes. Jet also served with a chunk of turkey, on which he wasted no time in devouring. Jet's vigorous eating added to the easy chatter generated by the Jacksons, the students updating their parents on the latest news - conveniently "forgetting" to mention the lectures missed. The boy continued to shove his food in his mouth, whilst flavourful, it lacked taste. Dull. He longed to see what was in the box, causing his thoughts to waver through the soundwaves of the others.
Mr Jackson was the first to witness Tommy's unusual silence, he watched as his son spear into a green bean and shove it quickly in his mouth. "Tommy." the father boomed "You're being awfully quiet, what have you been doing in the house so far?".
Startled, the teenager started to explain his quiet demeanour - "I..I was playing with Jet and I found this box. It was locked. Do you guy-"
"Oh, I should probably call the last owner about that" Mr Jackson interrupted.
"Yeah, the estate agents were no help, just saying that they'll collect the item and charge the old houseowners a fee" Mrs Jackson scoffed, "What I look like a snitch? Or what's that word you guys use for uppity white women?"
"Karen!" Travis blurted out, spraying food all over Trinity, who punched the brother almost instantaneously in retaliation.
"That still doesn't describe your weird behaviour" The father pressed
"Maybe it's his girlfriend" his sister added.
An "ooo" was interjected by Mrs Jackson and Travis.
"Oh yeah, umm Laura or Lauren, something like that?" Travis shouted once more with a full mouth of starch, eliciting a disgusted look from everyone on the table, even forcing Jet to wince.
"NOT my girlfriend!" Tommy clarified "and before I was interrupted, I was asking if you guys thought the box could hold magical powers?"
The Jacksons paused for a moment and stared at the youngest son. 2 seconds passed before the family burst into raucous laughter.
The writer would really appreciate some feedback. Anything is welcome, no matter how small - You will get feathers for every bit of feedback!
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