Her Castle, Prompt #4, OC - by Nebula

[authoressnebula.livejournal.com]

Title: Her Castle
Fandom: OC
Prompt: #4 - Hovel
Warnings: None.
Rating: G
Summary: It used to be her favorite place to be.

Wordcount: 1419

Again, concrit is really appreciated. I can't begin to tell you guys how much my writing has improved. Thank you thank you thank you!

It used to be her favorite place to be.

When they'd bought the house, she'd immediately investigated every nook and cranny that was available. The inside had been first, because she'd been trying to claim her room at the same time. Her brother couldn't have had the bigger room, obviously: she was the older sister, after all. She'd deserved the bigger bedroom.

Once the inside had been scouted out, the upstairs completely explored and the downstairs had started to feel familiar, she'd headed outside. The yard hadn't been much, but the treasure in the back had instantly caught her attention and held it.

It was in the back left corner, hidden by the branches of the trees in the other yard. The silver metal fence had obviously been installed after the little shack: it curved out and away from the structure to meet up with the other fences that closed in the neighbor's yards. The structure looked tiny to her now.

Back then, she'd been only eight, and a little girl in a new city. She'd had no friends yet, hadn't even known what her new school would look like, but this place...it would be her private mansion, her playhouse, her home for adventures and an imagination that was bigger than those four walls. It had been huge and decadent, and she'd immediately piled all of her outdoor toys in there. She'd gone looking for markers to write on the door with, but her mother had told her that paint would be better. Her father had even offered to help write out the letters for her.

Once her parents had seen her new treasure, however, they hadn't been as ready to help as they had previously. “It's a hovel,” her father had announced, before he'd turned and walked inside. “We'll get you a plastic house from the toy store.”

When she'd found out from her mother just what a hovel was, she'd been even more determined to make it a place for royalty. It had been her discovery, her priceless find, and nobody had been able to talk her out of it. Her father had insisted on her not going in there, and her mother had simply sighed and told her whatever she did, she'd better be careful.

It didn't look so grand, anymore. She stepped around the fence, closing the latch behind her. It clanged against the metal, sounding loud in the quiet of the afternoon. She supposed that she might be trespassing, but this had once been her house. It was being sold, again, by the most recent owners. No one was around. The driveway looked horrible, with weeds coming through several cracks she didn't remember having ever been there before. Time had certainly passed.

The shack was directly in front of her now. Slowly she stepped through the grass, feeling it tickle her bare calves. It hadn't been mowed for some time, that much was obvious. The home and property had seen better days.

She remembered being able to slide through the door with ease. She wasn't sure she could get through if she crouched now. Had she really grown that much? She thought she was short now; it would take a very small person to get through that doorway.

Cautiously she pulled back the rickety door. It squealed and creaked on its now single hinge. The second hinge was missing its pin, and the door leaned precariously towards the right. One pull too many, and it would simply break off.

Inside, it wasn't the grand room she recalled it once having been. She must've had a really good imagination; her father had been right all along. It was a hovel. A very dirty, cluttered, messy hovel that should've been taken down years ago. She had to remain in a hunched over position to save her head from the roof above her.

She could see through the cracks in the wall, straight out into the yard and the surrounding yards. As she moved from wall to wall, leaves crackled beneath her feet, some still crisp, some too covered in mud and dirt to make a sound anymore. She was going to be wiping her boots for hours, but she'd wanted to see this place one last time. She'd had it so built up in her mind, and when she'd seen the house for sale the other day...

The roof was still disjointed; no one had bothered to fix it. She'd tried once, and had nearly fallen off the roof. She remembered several splinters in her legs and arms, and she hadn't really cared. She'd still been too upset about not righting her roof.

No one else had tried to help her fix it up. Through the years, she'd brought home friends again and again, each time wanting them to see her little house in the back. No one had ever dared go inside with her: they'd opted instead to play in the yard itself, or just head upstairs to her room to play dolls. They'd been afraid of bugs. That had been the most well used excuse she'd heard. They'd simply been afraid of it.

It didn't look very sturdy, like all it would take would be a huff and a puff and it would blow the house down. She clambered out of the house, closing the door carefully behind her before stepping back and gazing at the whole thing.

It looked horrible. No one in their right mind would've played in such a structure. It smelled off, like the wood was rotting, and it sort of leaned to the right a little. The foundation was rocky on it. The wood was dark and full of scratches and holes, and if a building could look miserable, she figured this would be what it looked like. It needed serious help, possibly in the form of a sledgehammer.

It had been her castle once, though. And she wasn't leaving until she made it known.

She pulled out a small jar from her pocket, and a brush from her other pocket. She knelt in front of the door, making sure it was firmly shut before she opened the jar. Carefully she dipped her brush in the paint. She wiped off the excess on the rim of the jar, then leaned forward and began to paint. It took a few strokes to get the green color to show up on the door, but once it did, it was obvious what letter it was.

She continued this way for some time. The muscles in her legs tightened, and her feet fell asleep. Still she continued painting, stroke after stroke, gently sweeping the brush over the door until she was finished. She sat back then and admired her work.

In bright green letters on the door, her name was written, followed closely by the word 'castle'. She smiled and rose to her feet, wincing and shaking out her legs once she was straight. She wasn't as young as she'd once been.

She wiped the rest of the paint off on one side of the house, then wrapped the brush in the cloth she'd brought. Both the closed jar and the brush went back into her pocket, and she headed for the gate. She wished she'd brought her camera on the trip: it would've been fun to bring home. She didn't think she had time to go buy a disposable camera before her flight. Her family was meeting her at the airport tonight, so a later flight was out of the question.

Besides, she was looking forward to going home. These business trips of hers were always boring. She wanted to be home in her own yard, feeling the grass her husband had just cut under her feet. She wanted to see her baby boy again: he was two going on twenty, it seemed, and ready to take on the world. She wanted to swing her daughter around in her arms and share with her the adventure she'd had on this trip. Barely seven, but already her daughter had a big smile and an even bigger imagination.

She'd tell her the story of a little girl who had once lived in a wooden house, a castle, a fortress, a mansion, anything she'd wanted it to be. Then she'd talk with her husband about making a 'hovel' of their own. They'd put it in the back corner of their yard, where the fences met.

Her daughter was going to want one, too.

A/N - This was actually a bit of something that happened in my life. When I moved into a new house at the age of six, I found an old abandoned swingset in the back. It was made of wood, and it made for the perfect adventure as a magic carpet, a fortress if I swung it upside down...I loved that thing.

~Nebula

Comments

[texanfan.livejournal.com]

I like the trash as treasure theme and the signs of the passage of time. Resonates well.

[authoressnebula.livejournal.com]

Thank you sweetie; really glad it was enjoyed. I had fun with this one, when I figured out the direction I wanted to take it.

~Nebula

[umbralillium.livejournal.com]

Beautiful, love. The whole time I was reading it, it was you as the little girl. *hugs*

[authoressnebula.livejournal.com]

Awww, thank you sweetie! I'm really glad I conveyed that and got that through. (I actually did try to fix the top of my swing once, and ended up falling off. I was fine, but sorely pissed that I hadn't gotten it to work when I knew what an easy fix it was. ~_^)

*hugs back*

~Nebula

[umbralillium.livejournal.com]

Awwwwww! *wishes she could go back in time and help Little Nebbie* *pets*

[authoressnebula.livejournal.com]

Aww, don't cry! *hands you a tissue* I go back to that house now, and it makes me so upset. They cut down my pine tree that I loved, but the swing is still in the backyard, looking fairly messy these days.

Glad I could give you that walk down the lane sweetie. I'm an eldest, too, so I definitely had to put that in. That was the biggest thing I always had to emphasize with my brother. ~_^

Thank you sweetie,

~Nebula

[lilithbint.livejournal.com]

Lovely story, very emotinally resonant,

Either she'd had a really good imagination, or her father had been right all along: it was a hovel.
this doesn't really make sense, the sentence seems to be contradicting itself. The good imagination would confirm her father's belief rather than being an either/or.

[authoressnebula.livejournal.com]

Thank you so much! Really glad it got the emotions out there.

It really does, doesn't it? I wonder how that slipped past my radar. Thankfully, it didn't slip past yours! Thanks hun; I'll go through it and see how to fix it. ^_^

~Nebula

[frk-werewolf.livejournal.com]

*fangirls likewhoa*

I loved this, Nebula! It was teh awesomeness. It was a perfect story of growing up and rememberance.

[authoressnebula.livejournal.com]

*squees under fangirling*

Thank you darlin'! Very glad you enjoyed this. I had fun writing it...once I knew what I was doing. LOL

~Nebula

[jitkajaylor.livejournal.com]

Hee! I used to sneak across the street to the neighbor's yard and play in their pine trees. There were five of them in a rough circle, and a crick (drainage ditch) ran alongside it. Man, so many adventures! *sniffs* The new people cut down most of the trees. But the crick is still as fascinating as ever - which seems really dangerous now that I'm older. And, speaking as the youngest, "But I want a big room!" Of course, as the only girl, I ended up getting the biggest room later on because I have more stuff, so nyah! *giggles* Absolutely wonderful! *wanders off down memory lane*

~JJ~

[authoressnebula.livejournal.com]

*giggles* I had a pine tree too, in my front yard. When it snowed, and I mean really snowed, you could watch the limbs come down to touch the ground. It made the greatest fort. ^_^ Mine got cut down too, though. (*grins* I've done so many things that now seem too dangerous...we kids were invincible, weren't we? ~_^)

Oh, lucky you! I always had to fight my brother for the biggest room. It'd be a mad dash into the house to try and find the biggest one first, then claim it. ~_^

Glad you enjoyed, and glad I could give you that walk down the lane. Thanks muches!

~Nebula

[smwright.livejournal.com]

From an adult-child nomad, this really struck a chord of melancholy bittersweetness. I especially loved, "...and an imagination that was bigger than those four walls."

Well done. :)

[authoressnebula.livejournal.com]

Wow, thank you so much! I'm really glad it hit that chord; it was a walk down my memory lane, too. And squee for a quote! That always makes my night.

Thank you again!

~Nebula

[lit-gal.livejournal.com]

Oh, this is lovely... a moment that I think everyone can relate to no matter what their childhood treasure was. And the sensory details you use (the grass on the calves and the tilting roof) made me feel like I was inside the story. This is just beautiful.

[authoressnebula.livejournal.com]

Thank you sweetie; I'm really glad I was able to put you there in that moment. Those sensory details have to be the thing I can feel the most when I think back on my childhood. The grass was always too long, whether it had been chopped or not. (I was a short person. Well, I still am, but...~_^)

~Nebula

[sunnyd-lite.livejournal.com]

like all it would take would be a huff and a puff and it would blow the house down I really like the tieing in of childhood imagery with this line. Love that she went back to 'claim' her castles.

Great details from the oft used excuse of bugs to the sore legs.

[authoressnebula.livejournal.com]

Squee for quotage! I really love it when people think a particular line was special. ^_^

So glad you enjoyed this; thank you so so much. Also very glad I hit the mark with those details. I was hoping to share my experience with you guys, so I'm always extremely happy when I learn that I have.

~Nebula

[strickens-girl.livejournal.com]

This was beautiful. Touching and meaningful. I could so totally see this happening. Lovely job!

[authoressnebula.livejournal.com]

Thank you so much! I'm really glad you enjoyed it, and that it really touched you. I don't normally write tons of OC, but I really had fun with this one. ^_^

~Nebula