I'm a bit new to this, so I've no idea if this is any good. Apologies in advance because this may be a long, and slow, one. Hope you enjoy and as always let me know how I'm doing!
*****
Mara
The starting point, the point of no return, he would tell himself, was that fateful storm. A cold blustery Autumn night, the ground caked in as much melting snow as rain soaked amber leaves. The wind howled and screamed as it passed through the old cottage located solitarily on the winding hills.
He told himself it was that storm that made him susceptible, weak to the little mannerisms and subtle flirts. In reality it was simply her smile.
Ezra had been head over heels since they were both much younger, caught up in the way she would tuck her hair behind her small pointed ears before grinning at him mischievously. The way her nose scrunched up as she did smile, freckles dotting her cheeks like stars on a clear night. Or how her smooth glossy black hair curled and tousled after being caught in the icy rains.
There was a never ending list he would revise daily as a new aspect of his sister Mara caught his attention and drove him mad. Maybe he was mad for the feelings he'd been harbouring since they were younger. He never dreamed he'd get the chance to act upon it.
Chapter 1:
A welcome distraction.
Ezra wasn't much of a people person, an introvert some called him, 'crazy man of the hills' others. In reality he relished the fresh soul cleansing peace of his solitude deep in the hills.
Far away from any nearby towns as to not be disturbed by regular traffic or unwanted visitors but not too far as to deprive himself of his much needed deliveries. Ezra was a mechanic, painter and designer. He never could choose between just one.
He loved the meticulous planning of a designer down to each minute aspect of a diagram, each contoured leaf of a tree sculpture or elegant curve of a water fountain. He loved the thrill of sculpting new and wild ideas while blasting the latest music. Finally, he relished the intricacy of the machine and how millions of tiny parts collectively can create wonders.
Many would think of his as an 'old soul', his parents had told him many times in the past that he had wisdom beyond his years, nothing, he thought, compared to Mara. At only 19 she had been scouted as an exceptional mind. Drawn to physics at an early age, and with a natural burning curiosity of the cosmos, she landed herself a prestigious apprenticeship at a leading European engineering firm based in Switzerland.
It was like losing a limb the day she left. But he could never of said no when she'd asked to go, not after that damned smile. Even at 18, at the time, an adult in his eyes, she'd still asked for his opinion. That was how much they meant to each other. They were inseparable when together. Now a year has gone by with little contact. Her work keeping her busy.
Ezra sat musing on his front porch listening to the soft patter of rainfall on the slated roof. The cottage itself was a humble single storied building with one main bedroom, a smaller guest bedroom which was little more than a large closet, a living room focused around a fire, a bathroom adjoining that and finally a small kitchen. Perfect for just him, crowded if there was anybody else.
Attached to the cottage was a wooden workshop split into two sections: an enclosed roofed section where anything that couldn't get wet was located and an open space that had a slanted tile roof but no walls. A space for both indoor and outdoor projects.
He was musing on his little slice of paradise when he was disturbed by a distant chugging noise. An old petrol engine carrying an over burdened carriage, the only regularity around here except him. He waited several minutes until the truck pulled up outside his house next to his own car, a small compact electric city model. It was recharged by a series of solar panels and a small wind turbine.
Stumbling out of the hot cab interior was his long time friend Gregor, who had emigrated here over 30 years ago. He had known Gregor since he was a baby, a lifelong friend of his late father's. Sharing a handshake and a heartfelt hug, Gregor smiled and slapped the wagon attached to his truck.
"Got some good salvage this time!' He began, giving his signature big toothy grin.
Ezra mounted the wagon, lifting the soaked rain cover to find a heap of old metal, wood and even porcelain items. Ezra whistled as he scanned what would look to anybody else like wreckage. He immediately spotted some chipped porcelain statues, a pair, depicting some grieving maiden.
He scooped them up and gently passed them to Gregor. As light began to fade, having selected a veritable stash of items for reuse his foot struck something large and metallic. Covered by a large twisted section of tarpaulin was a huge vintage arcade machine half buried under some rusted iron railing. Immediately his heart raced.
'You could have told me about this!' He shouted waving his arms at the machine while shoving the railings off with considerable effort.
'And robbed you of that shit eating grin on your face?' Came a chuckled reply. Ezra rolled his eyes and smirked.
An hour had passed by the time the machine was standing proudly inside his enclosed workshop. After some more small talk and an exchange of a fistful of cash, Gregor departed and left Ezra alone with his greatest piece yet.
For what was several weeks, but felt like several hours to Ezra, he worked tirelessly on the new machine. Peeling back the rusted body panels and sanding down the original artwork that had become corroded and flecked with stubborn dirt.
Most of the mechanisms inside were surprisingly still intact but the electronics were unsalvageable, too much salty coastal rain. He was sprawled underneath the main compartment of the machine, tinkering with a delicate little switchboard when he heard a gentle thud from outside. It reminded Ezra of a car door but he wasn't expecting visitors and hardly anybody ventured this far out from the main seaside resorts into the surrounding hills.
He had dismissed the noise, completely oblivious to the polite knocking on his front door or the persistent presses of a door bell which no longer worked. He had no idea how long it had been until he heard the soft padding of feet approach the workshop, followed by the whine of the shutter door opening from the outside.
"Shit!" he breathed quietly, panic rising inside his chest. He expected to see the booted feet of some low-life criminal from under the frame but instead padded the obviously feminine feet clad in socks and sandal.
Bloody socks and sandals!
There was only one person who would wear that in the middle of an exceptionally wet Autumn.
With exceptional difficulty he untangled himself from the maze of wiring and shimmied himself out, the bare stone floor cool against his bare torso. As he regained his feet he was greeted by an angel, or close enough. His beautiful sister stood beaming before him. Dressed in a floral orange sundress, thin black cropped cardigan that lay unfastened and a pair of white sandals and socks.
She was absolutely stunning. Framed by the lazy orange sun her already amber skin shone with an alluring light. Her straight black hair was cut short to just below her ears, tucking what she could behind them but inevitably some strands broke free. Still without uttering a word he stepped closer to her.
