This is where the craziness starts. :)

REVIEW REPLIES:

-Maltara101
Thank you so much! :D

-Things in Ink
Just wait until you meet the rest of the family. ;) Thank you for reading and reviewing!

I am in a bit of a hurry today, so I can't say much. I just want to thank everyone for reading this story, adding me as a favorite author, and so much more.

I did post some original stories on fiction press last night, and maybe you got the notification. Those are just my Creative Writing assignments and if you like a good horror story, then you'll like The Huntress. If you like nonsense poetry, you'll like Ode to the Apocalypse. I will also be posting a much...Nicer story soon. It's the one I've been working on since the end of sixth grade all the way until now. I've only written the first big story (which took up around 200 pages.) And I'm hoping on creating a sequel sometime.

The Huntress will be updated every so often. Possibly every two weeks. (I know, it's a long wait, but that's when every published assignment is due.)

In two weeks, I'll start posting Dragon's Apprentice (the story I'm working on) if you want to check that out. It's completely original. :)

That's it for today! Thank you again! :D

I'll post some Fable of Death tomorrow and maybe more Family Relations on Sunday!

Please enjoy!


Fallon Family Dinner; an event that rarely happened because my dad was ALWAYS working late hours, up until recently. Most of the time, it's just the kids and my mom sitting in the living room with a microwavable feast enjoying a nice television program.

Ferrell Family Dinner; an event that occurs daily, no matter what's going on. Mr. Ferrell is always punctual for the meal that Mrs. Ferrell cooks. The rambunctious younger twins dash into the dining room, fighting about who put glue on whose head. The middle child quietly sulks in, followed by Kira. They say a quick prayer and continue to eat, using their best table manners and making sure guests felt like they had their share.

As you can see, Ferrell Family Dinners are much different that Fallon Family Dinners.

Mrs. Ferrell dumped shovel-loads of home-made delicacies onto my small plate, humming a tune as she did so. Mr. Ferrell, a broad-shouldered man who resembles Keith, aside from the fiery-red hair, very well, sits at the far end of a rectangular table, his wife on his right hand, and youngest twin on his left. He quietly skims a newspaper, occasionally taking a bite of food.

The younger twins, Kevin and Kyle, punch, bite, and insult each other as they reach for their dinner. They have their father's hair, and their mother's gleaming eyes. They are slender, like their father, probably from working in the field.

Ky, the middle child, quietly eats. His messy, blonde hair shades his light green eyes. He, too, is also slender. His hands are calloused and dirty, as well as his clothes. He looks close to my age; maybe seventeen. One of the twins, Kevin or Kyle, I can tell, accidentally punches him. This causes him to drop his dinner onto the ground, a signal for a large mastiff to come clomping in. The younger twins laugh at their pet and drop another piece on the ground; only to be stopped seconds later by an upset father.

Kira sits next to her mother, smiling and making conversation with her as she politely eats her food. She laughs, nods, and shakes her head, diving into each sentence. She seems like a people pleaser. Mrs. Ferrell enjoys her daughter's presence very much, and laughs heartily whenever she talks about a man named, 'Austin'.

Keith sits next to her and myself. He keeps quiet, seeing as his family isn't interested in him as much. I reach under the table to grab his hand and he smiles towards me, squeezing back as if in code.

Look at you, Kenna. You're profiling...Just like Mom.

I shake the thought away just as Mr. Ferrell clears his throat. The family silences almost immediately. All eyes fall upon him.

"Well," Mr. Ferrell begins, "we are grateful our son has returned." He says this was an edge around his voice; as if he doesn't want Keith to be here. "And with a friend as well. Tell me, boy, is she worthy to work on a farm?"

"Actually, Sir," I begin, "I live in San Francisco."

Mr. Ferrell seems disappointed in my action. "San Francisco?" he asks, raising an eyebrow. "I heard you have a little serial killer problem, there."

"It's not like San Francisco is the only place where serial killers live...Dad," Keith growls, letting go of my hand and clenching his fists. "The reason Kenna and I are here is because of a serial killer problem in Dell City. Last time I checked, Dell City isn't San Francisco."

Mr. Ferrell scoffs. "You will not use that attitude around me, Son. After all, I'm letting you and your soft-spoken partner take refuge in my house until you can find this killer." Unlike his family, Mr. Ferrell's accent was very light. His voice was deep, one of a scholar's. You could tell he was a smart man, probably had a few extra school years to share, but you could also sense his pride in the land.

"Be kind to your father, Keith," Mrs. Ferrell scolded. "He is right, ya know. We are giving you our home for your base of studies or whatever. Ya should at least keep a kind attitude; especially towards your father."

"He started it," Keith complained, slamming his hands on the table. "You even heard him, Mom!"

"I was simply stating that San Francisco ad a serial killer problem," Mr. Ferrell responded, still looking over his newspaper. "I didn't say anything about serial killers only living in San Francisco. What have those city-folk been teaching you, Son?"

"And we still don't know who this chick is," Kira interrupted. She pointed her fork at me. "You're definitely not just Keith's work partner. I sense romantic tension between y'all."

I cleared my throat lightly. "Well...I...Uh..."

"She's my girlfriend, yes," Keith stepped in.

"I thought dating your partner was illegal," Kira asked and Keith rolled his eyes.

"She's just a temporary worker. She does occasionally work at the station, but not as a detective."

"Than who is she?" Keith's mother demanded. "Where does she work? I want to know who my son is dating!"

"You actually care?" Keith grumbled. "I've never heard that one before..."

"Keith..." I began warily, but he shrugged me off.

"You always get on my case about the women I date. First it was Talia, then is was Alaina, and now you're bugging me about Kenna?"

"Well," Mr. Ferrell said with a shake of his head. "We don't want our son dating any serial killers...Or even your boss's daughter. That's kissing up and we, in the Ferrell family, do not kiss up to our superiors."

Without warning, Keith stormed out of the room. I stood up to follow, but I was stopped by a tugging thought. Leave him alone. This is his problem, not yours. Don't get involved.

There I stood, awkwardly in front of my boyfriend's family, wanting to chase after him, but also wanting to stay put.

Mr. Ferrell folded up his newspaper and shook his head solemnly. "I give the boy two days before he completely snaps."

Kira smiled and leaned over to her mom. "Or before Kenna leaves him," she whispered.

Have you ever had a run in with those popular girls who whisper secrets to each other about someone and they're so loud, you know who they're talking about? Then you feel bad for that person, and feel even worse when they're talking about you. That's how it was my whole junior high/high school experience. I've learned to cope with it, but something Kira said just bothered me.

I was not the type of person to just dump guys. I mean seriously, I had one boyfriend before Keith and I was dumped so bad, (we went to a dance together and I found him with some other girl, grinding all over the dance floor), I never wanted to be the one giving that out.

-C.O.D-

Keith and I were separated during the nights. He slept in his old room while I shared with Kira. She had the attic to herself, which was nice, I guess. Her room was country-themed, (surprise, surprise!) and she had several pictures of her and her family spread across the wall. I looked around for Keith and the only picture I could find of him was a single portrait of Kira and Keith by Kira's bed.

I set my bags on the floor as Kira strolled in, smiling. "So how did you meet my brother?" she asked, pulling out a bed from underneath hers.

"My brother," I began, sitting on my suitcase, too lazy to seek out a chair, "and Keith met at the police academy. They both got jobs at the SFPD and they've been best friends since. Occasionally, Keith would come over to hang out with Daniel, my brother, but we didn't officially get together until I started working as a temporary detective in my brother's place."

"Temporary detective in your brother's place?" she asked and laughed loudly. "Was he a serial killer or somethin'?"

I blushed and looked at my feet. Okay, Daniel wasn't a killer, but he was involved with one and he went completely insane.

"Or something," I replied silently. I stood up quickly. "Hey, do you know where Keith might be?"

"If he's still sulking away, he's probably in the barn. Why? You miss him already? You Californian Chicks are so interesting."

I resisted the urge to slap her.

"Thank you," I muttered before exiting the room, and soon, the house. I made my way to the massive barn and crawled through an open door. There, surrounded by chickens, sheep, and a grey horse, was Keith.

His hands were clasped together, as if in prayer, and he was looking up at the ceiling. He sat on a floor made entirely of straw, and leaned against a bale of hay.

"Keith?" I asked and his eyes met mine. Instantly, a smile appeared.

"Kenna!" he said quietly and moved to the side, creating some space for me to sit. The chickens clucked at him for disturbing the straw, but quickly settled back into a more comfortable position. Being one for animals, I was quick to join Keith and a little lamb nudged my side. I picked it up and placed it in my lap. Keith grinned and scratched behind the lamb's ears.

"You were so lucky you got to live with animals in your childhood," I said and looked around. "I only had dogs."

Keith shrugged and looked up again. "I wasn't much of a farmer, though," he admitted. "I was too busy admiring the police department to actually care about tending crops and whatnot."

"Is that why your family is so harsh towards you?" I asked and he nodded slightly.

"Sometimes it's for that, and other times it's because of my career choice. They try to control my life." He picked up some straw and threw it across the barn. "If I date a girl and they don't like her, they'll try to get rid of her. If I had some city-friends who didn't practice farming as if it were a religion, then my dad would banish them from our household because they were 'unclean'. He had planned out my whole life; grow up a farmer, marry a farming woman, have some children, teach them the arts of farming, and then die as a farmer.

"I felt trapped all of the time, living the same routine; tend the fields until five at night. The only time it got interesting was when we found a fox nibbling away at the corn or whatever. As a cop, new things happen every day."

"It is your choice, you know," I said, "I mean, you know about my dad and how strict he is on police work; he is your boss, after all. When I said I didn't want to work for the police force and I wanted to work with dogs, he got upset. I talked with him though and we settled our differences. Maybe we need to reason things out with your father."

"We could," Keith confirmed. "But I don't want to. Not yet, at least." He pulled himself to his feet and stretched, offering his free hand down to me. I gladly took it and he hoisted me up. "We have work tomorrow morning," he continued. "We might as well fit in some sleep while we still can." He led me out of the barn, hand-in-hand.

With Keith by my side, I forgot all about the current troubles we were facing.

With Keith, I'm sure I'll make it through this trip alive...