Hunting the Fairy Tale

Chapter 11 - The Problematic Beach

Willow

I'm trying to settle into a new routine. I've decided that I'll come home after school, and walk the dog if nobody else had. Then I'll do my current homework and when Aunt Beth starts making dinner preparations, I'll give her a hand. Before dinner, I'll allow myself some time to relax and do whatever I feel like doing. Once I've helped to clean up the kitchen after dinner, I'll spend an hour doing some of the prescribed catch-up schoolwork according to the schedule the school gave me. After giving Uncle Ryan his coffee and snacks in his study, I'll have a chat with my mother and go to bed.

Perfect! 

And also perfectly boring! Well, I have to start somewhere to shape my life and find some form of stability. I am used to strict routines after all. Not having one is making me feel at loose ends. I've also decided to try my best to stay out of Hunter's way as much as possible when we're both at home. I want to give him a break from feeling responsible for me and also lots of personal space.

It's now my self-prescribed leisure time before dinner. I'm sitting on my bed, sorting through the various doll clothing designs I've sketched during the months I'd been unable to attend school. Aunt Beth gave me a bag filled with fabric scraps that I can use to make them. Some of them are pieces of old clothing that got ripped beyond repair. Most of it is cuttings she'd been kind enough to collect from friends when she'd found out about my hobby. I'm very excited about this huge donation. I have some pending orders that I'll finally be able to make and send off now. My regular clients have been very understanding when I informed them that due to circumstances beyond my control, I might be slow in delivering their orders and unable to update my blog for a while. You never know, though, they could've lost patience by now and moved on.

My dolls are sitting all over my bed, trying out various poses best suited to show off the last outfits I'd been able to make before my supply of material ran out. I'm more or less satisfied with the detailed photographs I've taken. I haven't uploaded any to my blog for ages. I've been having loads of problems trying to use my outdated cell phone to do so. The old phone isn't really meant for this kind of thing. Its camera is fine enough, but its other functions leave a lot to be desired. Especially the ones relying on the internet.

To survive, my mother and I had to sell everything of value we owned, including our state-of-the-art smartphones and laptops. Our second-hand phones were bought out of necessity and are rife with problems. I'd considered selling my dolls, but they've always been the source of my pocket money. They were my only link to at least some measure of independence and I had a hard time collecting them. Now that we have nothing, I need them more than ever.

I look up in surprise when Hunter enters my room after briefly knocking on the partially open bathroom door. I haven't seen him since he came home a while ago. On arrival, he'd gone virtually straight to his room, barely greeting his mother who was preparing dinner with me. He doesn't look at me, he just charges past my bed towards the windows, which he throws open.

"Fumes!" he shouts at me. "I'm painting!"

He's wearing his earphones, clearly not aware of the volume he's using to communicate with me. I nod my head and give him a thumbs up. It's kind of him to think of my health. I've started to catch the faintest whiff of turpentine and oil paint and guessed that he must be up to something in his room. It's not bad yet, but probably would be soon. He might've approached the situation in a more civilized manner rather than by just barging in, opening my windows, and shouting at me. He wouldn't be Hunter if he had, though. His way of doing things is usually quite amusing.

He's almost out the door again when he pauses and turns back to have a second look at whatever it is that caught his attention. He tilts his head, trying to make sense of the unexpected scene he's looking at. It must seem strange. I'm sitting on my bed with a bunch of papers in my hands and a variety of dolls all around me. They are all the more or less 30 cm fashion-model kind of dolls. Some of them are even male.