Hey guys, so I'm going to be trying writing again. If you guys like it and it goes well, this will be a blog series with an indefinite amount of parts with each blog being one part. If you think parts are getting too long or short, let me know. Anyways, I haven't wrote anything in a long time, so any feedback you have whether positive or negative would be greatly appreciated.

Disclaimer: the main character of this story is very very similar to me but do not interpret his thoughts or actions as my own. He and I think on slightly different wavelengths and I would not be represented by him.

That being said, enjoy.

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Rundstic, Washington was your average country city. Not too large of course, but big enough to get lost in if you weren't careful. A few tall buildings were found in the central downtown area. Otherwise, the only large structures were cathedrals and the court house. Of which the tallest was about the same height as the other buildings. It had a certain beauty in its simplicity, as if it was cut off from the pain of the world. Of course, this was far from the truth, but it seemed brighter and more cheerful than other cities.

"But what's with all these pine trees?"

16 year-old Zachary Scott sat in the back of a completely stuffed minivan. His family had just bought a piece of land here in Rundstic and it was a formidable drive from his childhood home in Los Angeles. Why his family had chosen to drive all the way there instead of flying was a matter of money but in Zachary's mind it was worth the expense. He had been cramped and squished for the last 6 hours, just having stopped for rest breaks periodically. They couldn't even book a hotel. Sleeping while sitting in a leather seat had everyone's legs aching and everyone was just trying to take their mind off the pain since they were almost there. For Zachary, that meant staring out the windows and comparing it to the only other place he had lived in.

With a disappointed sigh, he rested his head back on the headrest and closed his eyes. Sure, he used to hate LA, but he never wanted to leave it. He had come to accept the gangs and bullies and constant sirens, and he loved all the bright trees and bushes there. Maybe this would be a better, fresh start?

The thought popped in his head and surprised him. Better, fresh start? Sounded like his mom always telling him this would be best for everyone or something stupid like that. He knew better than to call it stupid but what could he do? He missed home too badly. Turning his head back towards the window so no one would see his pained expression, he studied the landscape again.

More trees. More boring pine trees. All the same shade of dark green. Only difference was how tall they were and they were all about the same size anyways. He felt like one of those trees. A dime a dozen average guy. No real skills and always invisible to everyone. Sure, his family was special. He knew that. They were a bit crazy, but everyone had their own gifts. His dad was a contractor and could fix practically anything or knew someone who could. His mom was out of a job, but he knew she loved being a vet and had a way with animals. Rebecca, his younger sister, was amazing at art and even at the age of fourteen had sold some paintings for a decent amount of cash. Elizabeth, or Lizzy, was his older sister and could sing like no one else he knew. She was in a band back home and not only did she star in vocals, but she also could play the keys beautifully.

"If I could just have one of those talents, I'd fit right in with no problem. But all I can do is write poetry. Not a skill I can do anything with though. Doesn't help being the only boy either..."

He sat back again, sighed, and closed his eyes.

***

They arrived at the house after about fifteen minutes. They only brought a few bags out, just wanting to get inside before their legs started failing. It was a large white house on a little ranch. There were a few cows and chickens but not much else. The house sat on a hill so maybe sledding would be an opportunity here?

Before long, everyone was sitting on the couch after arguing over rooms and throwing their bags in. The couch was facing a huge window overlooking the bottom of the hill. It was deep enough to be called a valley and another large hill shot up where it ended, allowing them to see for at least a mile or two.

Dad finally spoke up, "I think this house will be perfect for us. I mean, look at this view. If nothing else, that right there is enough reason to love this place. It'll be a good home."

Zachary looked. And felt his fists tighten. He saw trees. Hundreds and hundreds of the same dark green pine trees. This wasn't home. It was nothing like home. It was a great view...but no. It could never be home. There were no friends, no neighbors, no palm trees, no bright bushes, no tall shining buildings, and nothing familiar whatsoever. How dare he call it a good home!

He stood up and marched to his room in anger. He yelled behind him, "This will never be home! I had a home and you ruined everything!"

He slammed his door and heard the foreign-sounding echo of the noise throughout the house. Bitter and mournful, he sat on top of his suitcase and buried his head in his hands.