Recently I've been experimenting with some new ideas and prompts for stories. This idea stuck out the most to me. I hope you all like the first chapter. I look forward to any comments or critique for this story, enjoy!

The ride had been interminable, filled with the incessant blaring of this year's chart topping songs from her car radio. At first Amelia had sang along to them, her tone varying between childish and dramatic depending on the song. By the time an hour had gone by, it felt as if her brain was pounding up against her skull in sync with the beat of the songs. She ended up turning the volume down to one of the lowest settings, still loud enough to be heard. Despite what her head felt, silence was the type of pain she dreaded the most.

Why she was moving to an isolated house in the middle of a forest was beyond everyone else. Most people's dreams involved high paying jobs, loving families or even fame. Amelia's dream, however, was simple. All she wanted was a house. Not just any house, though. There was only one place that would ever fulfill her desire.

Amelia could tell she was beginning to get close to it and it wasn't just because the GPS told her that. The roads were becoming increasing rugged with every mile. The open fields that had surrounded her quickly turned into a compact forest, blocking her view on everything but the road laid out in front of her.

Amelia blinked at the sound of a gradual buzzing noise coming from within the car. At first she had thought that the speakers were at fault seeing as they weren't in the best of conditions. A quick glance towards her phone told her otherwise. Without taking her eyes off the road, her right hand reached down towards the console. Her fingers shifted through the various cosmetics and change before wrapping around the ends of the buzzing blue tooth headset.

"Aha!" She grinned triumphantly, placing the headset against in her ear and pressing the accept button. "Hey, Amelia Jones speaking. Who's this?"

"Your Mother." Amelia suppressed the urge to giggle at the stern tone. "Where are you?"

The girl took a quick look over the screen of the GPS. "About," She stretched out the word for a few seconds. "Ten minutes away, why?"

"You were supposed to call me once you crossed into Massachusetts."

Hesitating to reply, she chuckled nervously. For a few seconds she forget that she was a grown adult, moving to her own house where she could make her own rules and curfews. Her parents were states away, unable to do or saying anything that wasn't over the phone. "Sorry mom, I kind of-sort of forgot to. I've been driving on and off for hours so you can't really blame me for forgetting. I mean I'm talking to you now, right? That's gotta count for something."

Even though she couldn't see her, Amelia could tell that she was rubbing at her temple. The soft sigh she heard from the other line was proof enough. "Can you at least try to remember to call me before you go to bed tonight?"

"Yessss, mooom." She said in a deliberately grating voice.

"Sweetheart I just want to make sure you're okay."

"You know this ain't the first time I've been on my own."

Her mother shook her head from the other end of the line. "I know Amy, but sharing a college dorm room with another person is different from living all alone in a house that's several miles away from anywhere."

"You shouldn't worry so much, I'll be fine." It was relieving to hear the faint chuckle that came from her mother.

"Honey, I'm your mother. Worrying is a part of my job description." Pausing for a second, she finally said. "Listen, I've got to go. Just remember to call me later tonight and if the house is in worse condition than you thought, please check into a hotel for a few nights. Oh and don't forget to buy some groceries tomorrow and-"

"Love you mom, bye."

"Amel-" the call ended before her mother could continue. For a few minutes she feared that her mother would call again, scolding her for hanging up. However, it became evident that her mother wasn't going to bother to call her again.

Her red Ford Escort began to bobble up and down as it slid down the gravel road, mentally groaning that she would have to take this road every day from now on. She pushed the thought to the back of her head, reminding herself that it was worth it.

At least it was until she finally set her eyes on the house after more than ten years. The incisive bouncing of her car upon the coarse road ceased once it pulled up a little bit farther than twenty feet away from the porch steps (There seemed to be no driveway or garage for her to park anywhere else). "Lovely," she stated bitterly. Amelia had told herself over and over again that it would be in pretty bad shape, worse than when she had last seen it. Apparently she hadn't said it enough for she was in no way prepared for . . . this.

There was no denying that Amelia was a colorful girl. The type of girl who, when she was little, enjoyed painting everything but the paper, much to her parent's dismay. To her, dancing was any type of erratic and energetic movements done while listening to music, regardless as to whether it was in beat with the rhythm. The type of singing that people kept hidden away in their showers was proudly bellowed out whenever the mood was right in her eyes.

The only color this house had was from the green weeds that had gradually climbed its way up the walls. The paint was white, or at least was white. The shade reminded Amelia of the filthy looking snow you saw on the edge of sidewalks. The type that still lingered around once the grass had come up again and wasn't quite snow but more of a slushy.

She squinted her eyes to detect the next problem. The wooden columns that held up the porch seemed to lean in an odd angle. It wasn't critically dangerous at the moment but without proper help it would soon get that way. The only plus was that the windows were still intact. She couldn't say the same thing for the porch steps though. She would have to fix that first seeing as she was likely to forget about it during the night and trip on them on her way out in the morning.

Amelia doubted that she would be able to afford it had it been in a better condition. The house itself was in a Victorian style, much different than the colonial homes she grew up in as a child. The list of reasons why this particular house was a wreck could go on forever in her head. Instead of dwelling on them she chose to reverse the scowl on her lips. Character, she thought, this house has character. Although saying something had character didn't necessarily make it good.

Without much thought, her hand reached out to open the car door. She kept her eyes trained on her new home as she slid out of her seat to stand on the grubby, overgrown grass. In her head, she twisted the scene in front of her. Now before her stood the type of place her family could spend their Christmas's at. It was like one of the homes on HGTV. Modern aspects were incorporated into it in a way that didn't diminish its old world style. Instead of unsightly white paint, it adorned the brightest of blues. Flowers of all different shades hugged the sides of the house, instead of green and brown weeds. Above all, there was no signs of structural damage anywhere.

A hum of content passed her lips as she imagined her 'finished' house. "What are you smiling at?" The unexpected statement had her perfect image disappear.

Her teeth clenched down on the side of her mouth, suppressing a yelp of surprise. She had meant to turn around to face the unknown person but the sharp twist had her falling flat on her butt. "Huh," she blinked, looking up towards the strange man "who are you?"

The man before her was unfamiliar, he couldn't be one of her friends who 'promised' to visit sometime. Not like she had any British friends anyway. From this angle it seemed as if he was towering over her but if she stood up, she would see that he was only an inch taller than herself. His attire could be considered casual but to her seemed to stuffy for her tastes. The trimmed look he had didn't seem to match his blonde, disheveled hair.

She was a bit taken aback when he reached his hand out towards her, instead of replying to her question. Hesitating, she gradually brought her hand up to his. Her fingers ghosted over his palm, reluctant to accept this stranger's help. Shaking off the feeling, she grabbed his hand and let him help her up. Their grip on each other lingered for a few seconds even though she was back on her feet. His hand wasn't cold or warm, actually, it was like holding an inanimate object.

His thumb briefly brushed over the edge of her knuckles before he pulled his hand away altogether. "Oh forgive me, I forgot to answer your question." A brief, almost tired looking smile appeared on his lips as he paused before continuing his answer. "I'm Arthur Kirkland," he smiled at the young women "and you must be my new neighbor."