Chapter 11 - Welcome Home?
Ralph took a seat in the back of a new black car silently. As his parents got in the car, he stared out the window with a blank expression- his gaze transfixed on nothing in particular. During the entire trip to his house, a word was not spoken; Ralph's parents had a silent sympathy for him.
After a car ride that seemed to be too short to have covered the distance, Ralph opened the car door, and stepped onto the pathway leading up to his house. He stared at the towering building before him with a mild confusion.
"Welcome home," his father said quietly, stepping to Ralph's side.
"This isn't my home," Ralph mumbled under his breath.
"What's that?" asked his mother, as she approached Ralph.
"Nothing," Ralph shrugged.
His parents gave him a stare of concern, but they did not linger on the moment. Rather, they lead the way up the narrow cobblestone path slowly. Thoughts began rushing through Ralph's head as he made that silent journey. He was not leading the procession this time; his leadership qualities that he had developed back on the island were no longer in use. He was a child here, even though he had grown up more than others would ever recognize.
Ralph entered the house, and gazed around at the dwelling. He remembered the sights quickly; images of playing upon the soft red rug in front of the crackling fireplace came back to him, but the fire transformed the scene into a memory of the island- of Jack and his tribe dancing around the fire- of Simon- of Piggy. Ralph quickly shook his head, and gazed around the rest of the house.
"Your room is up the stairs, down to the end of the hall, and then to the left-- it's the last door," Ralph's mother said softly- almost in a reluctant manner to her son.
Ralph glared at her.
"I know," he mumbled.
Ralph made his way up the staircase, its polished chestnut wood reflecting the light from the windows around the staircase. On his way up, he heard some faint mumbling.
"He's changed, dear, and he'll need to get used to being home once again," he heard his father say quietly.
Ralph sighed as he continued to climb the stairs, letting his father's words sink in for the moment. Ralph reached the top of the stairs, and he made his way down the narrow hallway- which was noticeably gathering dust in the corners. He reached the last door on the left of the hallway; he stood before the door for a moment, and took a deep breath, and finally grasped the cold, metal doorknob, and opened it. He stepped inside the room, which was cleaned, unlike what he had gotten used to. His bed was made up neatly, the other furniture was polished, and the wooden floorboards beneath his feet were not cluttered with various objects. It had been so long.
He quickly backed out of the room, and slammed the door behind him. He charged his way down the stairs, and just as he had leapt from the last stair down to the floor, there were a few knocks at the door. Ralph shuffled forward, and opened the door, revealing a boy about his age, holding and gazing over a piece of paper.
"Jack," he gasped.