Cleaning House

“Ready?”  I nodded over to Thomas, who held his wand tightly in his hand.  His dark eyes shifted to the rattling door. I gulped. “On three.”

“One,” we both paused, hearing more intense rattling, “two…three.”

SLAM!  One flick of our wrists and the lock turned.  The door burst open, slamming open against the wall.  Pages upon pages flew out of the attic, causing both of us to hold our hands up.  Books toppled to the hallway floor from the stairs, reaching our toes and growing into a large pile.

Breaking Curfew

Later, we all retreated to the dormitory.  After spending just a few days there, the hallway of beds had become somewhere of a new home to us.  I had left clothes all over the floor, like Mom hated for me to do. The twins had manifested posters of their favorites bands and plastered them to the walls, much to their parents’ dismay, whom had left on another operation right after dinner.  Thomas, beside me, had changed the white coloring of the old bed sheets to an evergreen, while his sister opted for a light purple color. This was all fine and dandy, as Grandma had told us, as long as we reversed them before we returned home.