Moving | Short Story

Lizzie kicked over a small pinecone that was laying in her path. Her hands were shoved into her pockets; her eyes were glaring angrily down at the ground, as if that would solve anything. She glanced up momentarily, her curly orange hair falling in front of her eyes, before she turned her gaze back to the ground. Lizzie didn’t want to look at her new house as it felt like admitting that she had really abandoned her old life. 

Admitting that was something she didn’t ever want to do, but she’d have to do it eventually. Probably. “Ugh,” she muttered to herself bitterly after risking yet another glance up at the house. 

“Lizzie?”                                                                                        

“...Yeah?” her tone was begrudging. She didn’t really want to talk right now, but her mother had that prim, expectant tone that demanded to be responded to. 

Her mother was now right next to her, hands folded behind her back. “What do you think of the new house?” 

“It’s big. Congrats,” Lizzie’s tone was dripping with sarcasm, but it was true. The house stood tall and proud, its dark blue paint glaring against the white trim, as if declaring in a final way that this was now where Lizzie lived. 

She knew her mother was pursing her lips with that strained, I’m-losing-patience look on her face. Lizzie didn’t care about that at this point, which frankly would end up aggravating her mother more. 

“Look, I know you’re not pleased about the move, but it’s…” her voice faded away as Lizzie turned to face her mother, her face defiant in a way that her mother had always disliked.

“I don’t WANT to be here! And I know that this’ll ‘be better’ or whatever, and it’s not my decision to make for the family, but I really wish we’d stayed back home!” Her words poured out of her with ease, and Lizzie could’ve kept going forever, but why waste her words when she was stuck here? She didn’t stay to see what her mother would say to her outburst, and she scrambled away, dodging past her father. She was through the front door quickly, slamming it behind her, and took a moment to breathe, glancing around. 

The house was… big. Much bigger than her old one. It should’ve been impressive, really, but all Lizzie could think was That’s a lot of empty space. And If my room is this big, I want a pool in it. Mostly the former, though. At the moment, nothing, she was sure, could fill this space, and so it would be like this for the rest of her life: depressingly big and empty. Reminding her that her old house had been crammed with knickknacks and other things, sentimental nonsense in every cranny, but in a good way. And that she was no longer the girl who lived in that old house. She was the girl who lived in this unfilled wasteland of a house. 

Lizzie turned to the stairs and walked up hastily to the next floor, glancing down the long hallway. There was a pristine white door with a piece of paper taped to it. After further inspection, it read Lizzie’s room. She opened the door slowly, not sure exactly what she’d find but certain that it held empty space as well. 

It did. Lots of empty space. But at least some of her favorite notebooks and books and such were there, placed on a desk, and her bed held her blue-and-purple bed sheets. Lizzie hesitated, as if this room was not her own and she needed permission, then collapsed onto the bed. The large windows let in a lot of natural light, she noted. That was… nice. 

She glanced out one of the windows, out at the other houses and streets with people walking their dogs. A bird flapped in the air, landing on a tree branch where Lizzie could still see it, gasping with shock though she was. This bird… she could’ve sworn it was perched near her house right before she left to drive to her new life. The bird bore the exact same bright-blue markings and yellow specks at the tips of its wing. This bird was the same bird. This bird had… traveled with her?

A silly thought popped into Lizzie’s mind before she could stop it. The bird had come with her on this journey. At least I can remember that I’m not completely alone in this new world where I have somehow ended up.