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The Browns
Topic Started: Feb 2 2010, 03:00 PM (88 Views)
Wayne
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Ok, this is a story I'm working on. It was inspired by studying character in my Creative Writing classes, and Krissy's stories too. It's called The Browns, and is based on a bizarre dream I had. It's a work in progress, and I will carry it on when I have time :)

The Browns

“What are you doing here?”
“Oh, I’m sorry. My name’s Percy Horn, I work for the social services.”
“I asked what you’re doing here, not your life story.”
“May I come in to discuss this? It’s kind of a private matter.”
“No, you can say what you have to say here, it’s just as good.”
The man refused to budge from the doorway. Upon first appearance he seemed a little dim, with his shrewd eyes set wide apart, and his scant peppery hair dancing in the light wind. His head was a soft golden colour and shiney, like a tobacco-stained peanut. His teeth were yellow. He held a checked tea towel - damp, and twisted between his hairy fists.
“Sir, I’m not here to cause a scene…”
“Then you can very well bugger off and leave me and my family alone.” He turned to close the door.
“Mr Brown, if you don’t let me in now, I shall return with the police who will be forced to take action.”
“The poe-leese? The poe-leese!” The man gripped the towel tighter in his fists as his face turned a a scarlet colour, his lips pulled back in a snarl to reveal just how sharp those yellow teeth were. He looked like a shaved lion. “Fine! I’ll let you in, but only for a bit mind you. The missus is asleep, and the kids are due back soon. I have to get their dinners ready.”
“Thank you Mr Brown, I assure you I’m not going to take action today. I’m just going to make some observations.”
“Well, la-dee-bloody-dar, you in your suit, waving those useless degrees in my face. I was in the army, son, I fought to keep you free. Now look how I’m repaid, “observed” by a nancy in a suit. Some country this is…”
Mr Brown continued to ramble as he waddled into the kitchen. I stood in the hallway, noticing my surroundings. The passage was barely decorated, save for a few paintings of castles and woodland scenes, mostly foggy and eerie, which had been hung on the right-hand wall. No family pictures though. The carpet was threadbare, and it hadn’t even been fitted properly. No underlay had been put beneath it, so the stone cold floor was revealed in the patches that had been worn out of the carpet. On the left-hand side of the passage was the staircase that led to the second floor. A shoe rack stood at the foot of the stairs, so I placed my polished boots upon it, careful not to get dirt on the carpet. A door to the right of me led into the living room, and the door opposite, where Mr Brown had vanished through, presumably led into the kitchen. I approached that door and walked through.
“…kids are tearing up the streets, while mine are treated properly and never even…”
He was still ranting, and I hated to disturb him. I could tell this was something that had brewed up for a while, and he needed someone to vent at.
“…even I’m not sure what’s what anymore, and I know…”
The kitchen was in a better state than the passageway, no piles of washing up left in the sink or cutlery left on the sides to go mouldy. The table, with six chairs placed around it, was wiped clean and a bowl of fresh fruit placed in the middle – apples, pears, bananas and a few green grapes. They looked so fresh, I was tempted to take a grape while Mr Brown’s back was turned. A flicker of movement caught my eye, towards the door that led into the living room. Someone else was in. It was no good asking Mr Brown who it was as he was still in full-on rage mode, so I approached the doorway. It had been left open, and in the living room I could see the rich brown leather sofa and mahogany bookcase jammed with leather-bound books. No televison set or stereo, or modern luxuries of any kind. The curtains were drawn and the light was off, so the room was blanketed in darkness, but I could see a shadow on the sofa. The figure was small, and had a slight boyish shape about it, though I couldn’t tell for sure. The figure raised his hand and waved at me, not saying a word. I was about to greet him when I jumped in surprise – Mr Brown tapped me on the shoulder.
“Tea?”
“I’m sorry?”
“What you sorry for, lad?”
“I’m not. I meant…what did you…yes, I’ll have tea, please.”
Mr Brown looked up at me, his small eyes scrunched, as though he was either going blind or scrutinising my every facial movement.
“One sugar?” he asked. “Or two?”
“One, please.”
“And you’ll be taking milk of course?”
“If you don’t mind?”
“I do mind, I hate visitors coming here, invading, especially those from the poe-leese, I never know what to do with them.” He turned to head back to the where the kettle was, and I followed, sitting at the table. At least he wasn’t ranting anymore. I was about to inform him that I wasn’t actually from the police, but decided against it. “What do you mean, ‘what to do with them’?” I asked.
“What’s that, young ‘un?” replied Mr Brown, as he stirred the tea. He had made three cups.
“You said you never knew what to do with visitors, I just wondered what you meant by that.”
“You are a nosy pup, aren’t you? Do you do this with every person you meet? Ask them stupid questions? I wonder how many stupid answers you get in return. No wonder you’re not married.”
I’m glad he hadn’t given me my tea then, otherwise I would have spat it back out in surprise. “How did you know I wasn’t married?” Granted I’m only thirty-three, youthful still in today’s society, but how the hell did he know I wasn’t married?
“Just because I’m getting on in years doesn’t mean I ain’t as observant as you, fella. I bet I’d even do a grander job than you, when it boils down to it. Observing, pah! Another word for being nebby, that’s what that is. Eyes stuck in every pie, wanting to know exactly what’s going on. No privacy these days.”
“It was a simple question, Mr Brown,” I said, trying to stop another rant.
“Your suit is creased, I can smell bad microwave dinners on your breath and your hair is as long as my bloody arm! That’s how I can tell, young ‘un. Oh, and no wedding band. A good woman would sort you out, no need for nosing into other people’s private affairs.”
Microwave meals? And my hair wasn’t THAT long. But still, this guy was seriously sending creeps down my spine. He was right, he could probably do a better job than me. Still, he may have me beat when it came to noticing things, but I still had the ability to catch people out.
“Where’s Mrs Brown?” I asked.
Mr Brown stopped, mid-stir, his back turned to me. I couldn’t see his expression, but I knew what was going through his head. He resumed stirring.
“Clarissa, is it?”
With a clatter, the teaspoon went flying into the nearby sink. Mr Brown swivelled to face me, and I was almost expecting a punch, but instead he slammed the cup of tea down in front of me and fixed me with a look so full of rage I could feel the heat blasting out of him. “Drink!” he ordered. “Then get out.”
I drank.
It tasted sour, but not altogether awful. I managed to take a few sips, not without wincing. Mr Brown had resumed his position in front of the sink, his back turned to me.
“Mr Horn?”
I looked up from examining the dark brown liquid in my cup. “Mr Brown?”
“What did you see?”
Damnit. Once again, he’d shocked me. “Nothing. What do you mean? I didn’t…” Too quick, too rambling, he knew I was lying.
“I served in the army for twenty years, Mr Horn. I interrogated prisoners. I know when they lie, even without looking at them. What did you see in my living room?”
Good question. What had I seen? “I didn’t see any…”
“You did!” Once again, I was staring into Mr Brown’s deep eyes, his face scarlet, his fist bunched up on the table, as he shoved his face into mine. “Tell me!”
What was going on here? “I saw…”
“Yes? Spit it out, suit-boy.”
“I saw, I think I saw a shadow. On your sofa.”
“What kind of shadow?”
“I don’t know, it was a boy’s, I think. He waved at me.”
“He waved? Are you sure?”
“Yes.”
“Definitely a boy?”
I nodded. Mr Brown dropped his eyes to the table, then slowly stood back. He breathed and turned back to the sink. In the silence I could once again smell that tea. I swallowed air. “Who is he, Mr Brown?”
The man ignored me.
“Is he one of your children?”
“Feel free to make your observations Mr Horn,” said the defeated looking man. “But I assure you, you will find nothing untoward. I keep a perfect house here. My children are good, kind hearted souls, and my wife is kind and loving. You can tell your poe-leese you found nothing.” He turned to face me. “Stay as long as you like. More tea?”

Mr Brown expanded a little more on what I already knew about him and his family. He had indeed served for twenty years in the army, having fought in two wars. The circumstances of his leaving were unexplained, but shortly after returning home he met his current wife, Mrs Brown, and they quickly married after a four month relationship. When I entered their lives, they had been married 17 years. The house was Mr Brown’s, and his wife moved in with him shortly before having their first child – a boy named Manfred. Manfred Brown, now 17, went to the local sixth form.
“He should be due in any minute now, actually,” said Mr Brown. He looked at the clock on the kitchen wall – half past three. The smell of cooking meat filled the kitchen, and my mouth watered. Beef stew and dumplings. Despite my professionalism, I accepted my host’s offer of dinner. I hadn’t had a proper home cooked meal in a long time, so the offer was welcome. It even smelled like how my Mam used to cook.
“Another cup of tea, Mr Horn?” I’d already had my fifth, but before I could answer there was a rattling at the front door. Someone had unlocked it. I heard it open, then click shut, and a pair of feet shuffling off shoes before aproaching the kitchen. Instead of the teenage Manfred I expected to see though, there stood a young girl, hardly more than ten years old. This was surprising as I knew of only two children in the Brown household. I knew of Manfred, and I assumed the shadowy boy I saw in the room was the second. I had no clue about a girl though.
“Hi Daddy,” she said, her voice pouring into his ears like honeyed dewdrops. Her round eyes were the colour of emeralds, and she stood upright – a good posture, very rare in children these day.
“Hi Kat,” said Mr Brown. “Good day at school?”
“Fair,” she replied, simply.
“The other kids giving you grief?”
“They were fine. Once I’d explained to them how to do fractions. They have no clue.”
“Well, at least you know, eh?”
“Of course.” She put her schoolbag down on the floor, then suddenly turned to me. “Who’s the suit?” she asked her father.
“This is Mr Horn, he’s come to…get to know our wonderful family.”
She stared for a while at me and, strange as it seems, I could see the tiny ten-year old cogs working inside her head. She approached me and held out her hand. I took it, and we shook. “I’m Katalina Brown,” she said with a small curtsy.
“Percy Horn,” I replied. She released my hand, then gave me that steady gaze of hers again.
“He’s with social services isn’t he?” she asked her father. She walked over to him and took a dishtowel from the drawer. “The neighbours complained again. He seems lonely, he’s clearly not married. His suit needs ironing, microwave meal on his breath and no wedding band. He has a scar beneath his left ear, and his eyes are deep.”
Mr Brown chuckled slightly as I sat in awe. Just how smart was this girl? And offensive. She continued in that sweet voice of hers.
“He’s experienced something traumatic in his life, I think it was a car crash when he was very young, which is why he got into this job in the first place and why his bicycle is parked outside and not a car as you would expect. He wants to protect people from the harm that others cause. He’s a good person. I bet he’s even…”
“That’s enough now Kat,” said her Father. “You can speak to him later about it.”
“Yes, I think so. I will take a bath now, Daddy.”
“Of course dear, just don’t disturb Mummy will you?”
“As always.” She gave me one last glance, smiled and told me that it’s alright to cry, then she left the kitchen.
“Mr Brown?” He was back to his usual position, leaning over the sink.
“Mr Horn?”
“How come social services weren’t made aware of Katalina, your daughter?”
“There are lots of things the poe-leese aren’t aware of, Mr Horn.”
“You didn’t answer my question. Where did Katalina come from?”
“You really want me to explain the process, or shall I leave it to your imagination?”
“Err…that’s fine, I’m sure I can cope without the details. I just want to know why you haven’t let us know about Katalina.”
“She’s a special case, you wouldn’t understand.”
“Oh?”
“Oh?”
“What do you mean?” He turned and handed me another cup of tea. “Thank you. What do you mean special case?” The tea was beginning to grow on me, despite its sour taste. I took a gulp.
“She just is. She entered our lives one morning on a very special day for us, and we brought her home. She’s been a big help, for our whole family.”
“When was she born?”
“Well, seeing as she’s ten…” he trailed off, and grabbed a nearby tea-towel.
“I see. She’s smart isn’t she.”
“I had noticed.”
“How is she at school?”
“She’s the best, her teachers can’t get enough of her.”
“I would like to talk to her teachers one day.”
“If you must. Good tea?”
“Yes, lovely, thank you.
“Good. The stew is nearly ready now, and Manfred and the twins should be home soon.”
“Twins?” Again, this was news to me.
“Yes, the twins. Reese and Perkin. Both fourteen.”
“Mr Brown, I will have to speak about these unnaccounted children with you, at some penis.”
“Excuse me?” The man turned round to me, his eyes puzzled.
“At some point I’ll have to speak with you about these unnaccounted for children.” I said, not understanding his confusion.
“That’s not what you said.”
“Why? What did I say?”
“You just said…” he quietly mouthed something that I couldn’t understand.
“Again, excuse me?”
“You said..p..p..penis.”
“What? When?”
“Just now!” Mr Brown took a step towards me, the red and white checked tea towel twisted tightly in his fists. I was just about to question that tea towel when we both heard the front door open. There was a sudden stomping sound, and the door slammed shut. Gruff grunts followed, and boots were kicked off into the passage. A tall man entered the kitchen. His hair was long and black, shiny in the kitchen light. He was dressed in a maroon jacket and black trousers - the uniform of the sixth form school.
“Alright Dad,” said the teenager.
“Manny, how many times do I have to tell you, stop making noise when you come in. You know what your mother is like.”
“And Dad, I told you I don’t care really,” Manfred dropped down into the chair opposite me and took an apple from the fruitbowl. “She’ll only go back to sleep,” he continued, chomping into the apple. “She’s not as tyrannical as you make her out to be, you know.”
“What?!” Mr Brown flung the tea towel suddenly to one side and turned towards his eldest son. I got to see his anger from a different viewpoint this time, and it was just as terrifying witnessing it as it was being on the receiving end. “Don’t you dare speak about your mother like that,” the man spat. “She has taken care for you, provided you with everything you need, and what does she get? A mouthy, good for nothing son, that’s what!”
Manfred simply smiled, then looked at me. And to this day I still cannot explain why I thought what I did. As soon as the teenage lad locked eyes with mine, my mind suddenly swam with visions of giant penises. My brow began to sweat, and I obviously looked a little discomforted because Manfred smirked at me.
“This is Mr Horn,” explained the boy’s father. “He’s from social services, come to have a chat with us. I expect you’ll be staying after dinner, Mr Horn?”
The smell of stew and dumplings filled my nostrils. Manfred smirked again.
“Mr Horn?” repeated Mr Brown. “You gone deaf or what?”
“Penis,” I simply said.
Mr Brown’s cheeks swelled with scarlet, matching the colour of the tea-towel. Manfred could hardly contain his snickering.
“What was that?”
I struggled as hard as I could to tear my eyes from Manfred’s, but there seemed to be some kind of magnetic pull between us.
There was a sudden flick of red checks, and the spell suddenly broke. I blinked, and looked at Mr Brown.
“Just because you’re in a suit doesn’t mean you can ignore me. Are you staying after dinner?”
I took another slow sip of my tea. “Please,” I simply said.
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