If the eighteen different alarms, set by the three different women in this house, and snoozed at five minute intervals, had not awoken me, it certainly would’ve been the angry, howling December wind that lashed out against the four walls holding up our roof. The days of the sun being up bright and early like the rest of the people in this house have been long gone, so it is still dark outside when I finally sit up against the green-brown satin couch in the living room. I can hear the tap running upstairs and some murmuring; Mother and my oldest sister, Percy (Persephone but she hates the link between herself and the Queen of the Underworld, my fickle, stubborn sister, insists) are talking to each other, though the words are inaudible and drowned out by the screeching wind.
Still groggy, I turn on the television, rubbing my eyes to wake up. The seven-o-clock morning news tells me nothing that I don’t already know; meteorologists say that heavy winds are coming in from an arctic storm that originated in Newfoundland, Canada, but had quickly swept through the States and ended up, at last, on the border of the Pacific in Southern California. Expect rain and possibly thunder.
‘They said the same thing yesterday,’ Percy says, walking down the stairs and plopping Continue reading December 3rd