I'm just gonna speak at you

I feel like that the Hide and Seek story took forever to post, so I feel like I'm just going to speak at you this rainy Thursday. I recently had a paper due for my Critical Approaches to Language Studies class... I have never ever worked as hard as I worked on this paper. And not to sound like the generic college student, but seriously, this teacher HATES me. I swear to you I am not exaggerating. Even the cutie patootie guy sitting next to me asked what I did to the professor to make him hate me so much. This professor even made me cry in the middle of my speech in front of the class! And I tell you, I am soooo not a crier!

Anyhoozles on this paper I worked my boot-ay off on, I recieved the extremely lovely grade of a C-!!! Can you believe it? An English major got a C- on a paper!? Well, I couldn't believe it either! And what was his main reason for such  low grade... well, it was cause I didn't have enough evidence... BUT more than that, he said it wasn't academic writing.

And I ask you, please define academic writing for me. Is it words that no one can understand? Jargon? Technical language? No personality?

Well academic world... Shit is about to go DOWN!

Why can't I put my personality into my pape? Where is the line between academic and personal writing? I feel like I should be able to put a part of myself into everything I write... be it academic writing or personal writing. I can still make my point (and can probably make it even better) by adding a touch of Dallas to it. Professors are always preaching about the style of writing, and that each writer has a different technique to writing. Well, if you are going to smush my style, personality traits, and passion for writing how am I ever supposed to become the giant famous writer I have always dreamed of becoming.

Well, I am going to stick it to the man! I am going to resubmit this paper, with my personality dripping off the page (and also have more evidence to support my thesis tee hee)

Final Part of Hide and Seek

“These people have shit.” A blond man came into view near the hole, as he searched for things to look through.

            “I know, you’d think in this neighborhood they could afford a necklace or something.” The other man had black hair with a bristly beard enveloping his chin.

            “Look in that dresser.” the man pointed to the set of drawers right next to the hiding hole. The man with blond hair stalked over to the set of drawers, pulling one drawer at a time. He stuck his hand in each drawer, feeling the top, sides, and bottoms, so as not to miss any hidden valuables. My breathing had quickened, and my eye was so close to the crack of the hole that my eyelashes touched the dry wall when I blinked. I sat back, trying to get as far away from the entrance to the hole.

            “Nothing.”

            “Well, they said the papers would be in the house somewhere.”

            “Jesus. They have rats.”

            “Rats? I fucking hate rats!” The blond man said shrilly. I would hardly call them rats, they were more like mice, not big enough to be called rats. I had seen a rat in science class, he was our class pet. And the mice in our house, were nothing compared to the size of the rat in science class. The blond man was so close to the hole, I could see every pore on his face, as well as his receding hair line, and beady eyes. His eyes seemed to dart back and forth so quickly they blurred with each movement. His voice was high pitched, and he seemed to have trouble getting his words out, he had to shovel them out like snow on a driveway, heavy and wet.

            “It’s going into the wall. I bet they are everywhere, just begging to come out and run across your feet.” The bearded man mocked the blonde.

            “Shut the fuck up. I hate rats.” the man said looking at the floor, his eyes darting back and forth looking for any sign of rats. His hand slid into the front pocket of his coat,

            “It’s just a rat, man, calm down.” The other man warned.

            “I fucking hate rats.” He said, as he pulled a sleek black gun from his pocket. “They are filled with diseases, and their fucking rat tails are disgusting.” He pointed the tool at the ground, waiting for any type of movement. The hand holding the gun seemed to vibrate with twitches and jerks. He turned in a circle, keeping the tool pointed at the cement floor.

            “Keep looking, dumb ass. We don’t have a lot of time.” The bearded man urged. A rat darted from the wall that I was hiding behind, just as he finished his sentence. The man with the gun shot wildly at the rat, missing it completely with each shot, sending chunks of cement into the air. 

            “Well, now we know where they are coming from.” The man smiled, and raised the gun at the wall that had become my refuge. He started on the left side, scattering the bullets into the wall. The noise was deafening, I covered my ears with my clammy hands, and clenched my eyes shut. I felt the first bullet below my rib cage on the right side. I didn’t know it was a bullet at first, at the time I couldn’t pay attention to anything but the noise coming from the tool. The second bullet hit my right thigh, it hit more slowly than the first. I could feel it hit my skin, rip straight through it, and move onto the muscle behind it. It traced my femur as it exited my right leg and entered my left leg’s knee cap. The bone stopped it. It sat under my skin, creating a bulge like a large tic.

            I stared at the intruder under my skin, my eyes dry from lack of blinking. The intruders of the house had left, their pockets and guns empty. I still hadn’t taken my eyes off the tic near my knee cap, when I started to feel the pain in my side. I turned my head to see a puddle of my blood leaking from under my rib cage, it didn’t hurt like I thought getting shot would. Not that I ever thought I would be shot. It felt like a shot at the doctors office, except the needle was filled with some sort of hot liquid. It spread out from the hole slowly. Through my belly, up to my chest, in my neck, to my face. I felt very hot at first, but then the second needle in my knee produced a cold liquid that traveled faster than the first needle. It covered me like a blanket of ice.

            I wanted to lay down because I felt dizzy, but there was no room to lie down. I wanted to get out of the hiding place, I wanted to crawl out into the house and call for help. But, I was so tired, and my limbs felt like they weighed more than they had ever weighed before. My arms were at my sides, my right hand in the puddle of my blood pooling in the blanket, my head leaned against the wall. My eyes were so heavy, it was taking ever ounce of energy I had to keep them open, I just had to wait for my parents to get home, I would knock on the wall, and they would find me. They would know what to do.

*   *   *

            My cheeks, once plump, are beginning to dull, my hands begin to decay. My blue dress with white flowers fades, but stays in place, even with the rats pawing at my finger nails. The police search our house, but after awhile they give up on finding any leads or me. Eventually, I start to fade into the walls, and a stench leaks into the house from the ventilation system I hide in. Dad can’t quite seem to pinpoint the source of the smell, he searches to appease my mothers plea, but can’t see me.

            Ben is probably the most devastated of my siblings, he is the closest in age to me. And even though he always picks on me, I think he misses me. He is always in the basement talking to me, he doesn’t know I am here, but he talks to me like he knows I am. Sometimes, I talk back to him, to try and draw him to me, to show him the bullet behind the wooden armoire. To help him see me.

            John graduated high school, he had his graduation party in the basement, while my parents were out of town. I watched all the boys and girls sway back in forth with the essence of alcohol lingering in their veins. Ruth made the volleyball team her freshman year, she was always good at sports and things like that. Her friends practice their moves in basement, and check their makeup in the mirror I hide behind. I pretend I am them, tracing their lips with the scarlet wax, lining their eyes with black pencils, and straightening their tight fitting shirts, sucking in their bellies. Ben got his first girlfriend this year. They steal kisses on the couch in the basement, his hands search her body for something, but he can never seem to find it. She is pretty, her face blushes and she releases a giggle when he kisses her neck.

*   *   *

            On moving day, my parents pack my things. They carry my bed outside to the moving van, with my dresser, and mirror, and all my toys and books. Ben and John are older now and can help my dad lift the heavier things. My dad and John lift the armoire from the basement and prepare to carry it up the stairs to the living room, when Ben eyes something gold in the corner. He allows John and Dad to remove the armoire, and waits for their eyes to be somewhere else before examining the gold piece in the corner.

            He bends down to eye level with me, and picks up the tiny gold bullet. His eyes grow wider as he realizes what it is. I tell him to go show Dad, and tell him where he found it. But, Ben drops the gold into his pocket and calls up for John to come down.

            “What?” John asks hurriedly, ready to get everything out of the house and on their way. Ben’s eyes begin to well up with sadness in liquid form as he pulls the bullet from his pocket.

            “I found this behind the armoire.” His bottom lip quivers as he hands it to John. John looks down at the tiny gold bullet in his hand, and sucks in his breathe as he realizes what it is.

            “Do you think…” John couldn’t finish his sentence. Dad hops down the stairs, a large smile on his face.

            “I think that’s everything!” He says as he descends, “Oh come on guys. Don’t cry, we are all men now, and besides its just a house.” He laughs.

            “Dad,” John turns to him, “we found this in the corner, where the armoire was.” Mom was next to come down the stairs with a smile on her face, it quickly leaves as my Dad explains the situation. I want so badly to hug her, as she falls into my fathers arms. The sobs that come from her soul shaking, as she realizes her daughter is dead, and there is something to prove it.

            Ruth calls the police.

            I smile as the wall is torn down, and my mother, my father, and siblings finally see me. They see me.

More Hide and Seek? Gosh! I know! It's almost over!

I was sitting in the living room alone. My parents had taken Ruth to the grocery store, and the boys were no where to be found, which was a usual occurrence when my parents went to the grocery store. My feet hung over the top of the couch, and my head hung off the seat, turning the room upside down. I was wearing the blue dress Ruth had gotten me for my birthday a few months ago. Before she had left for the grocery store, she had used me as her own personal life size doll. She styled my hair with ribbons and bobby pins, and painted my face with red lipstick and  blue eye shadow. She told me I looked like a princess, but after looking in the mirror, I begged to differ.

            The window was creating a breeze that forced me to hold down my dress, so it wouldn’t fly over my head. I was thinking about how my parents always took Ruth to the store to help with the grocery shopping, but they never took me. I was old enough now, why wouldn’t they take me as well? I could see Ruth walking up and down the laminate halls picking out the family cereal for the week. I narrowed my eyes, trying to block out the unfair image.

            The boys were across the street at the park, most likely vandalizing something. I sat up to try to find them, when I noticed a pair of teenagers in front of the house. A boy and a girl. The looked to be about high school age, the girl had on a short greens skirt, with a button up white top. The boy wore a green polo with a black tie. The must have been from the catholic school in town. The girl clung to the boys arm as she stared up at the house, looking frightened. He seemed to enjoy this, he squeezed her tighter and pointed to the upstairs windows, most likely telling a story similar to my brothers. I decided to have a bit of fun, because, as my mother told me, there were no such things as ghosts and no one was murdered in the house.

             I sprinted up to my bedroom, pulled a pile of blankets out of my closet, and threw them over my head. Taking a deep breath, I pounded with all my might on the window, and let out a blood curdling scream like one never heard before. The girls face turned to horror, and she took off across the park leaving her male companion behind, staring terrified at the window I stood behind. I started to laugh hysterically, and even fell on the ground below the window to save my energy for more laughing. My eyes were watering I was laughing so hard, when I heard John and Ben open the front door downstairs.

            “Did you see her? Guess what I did?” I laughed as I trotted down the stairs to greet my brothers. But, they weren’t there. The front door was open, but my brothers weren’t in the doorway.

            “Where are you?” I said as I walked to the piano room. “Come on guys, don’t scare me. I really want to tell you what just happened. You will think its really funny!” I coaxed. There was no answer. “John?” I walked to the front door to see where my brothers had hidden, and that’s when I saw them. They were across the street, waiting for a car to pass to cross.

            I didn’t tell them about the girl. Instead I went downstairs to my hiding hole. I piled the blankets on the cement floor to make it a bit more comfortable for myself when we played another game of hide and seek. I sat in the hole for a little over an hour, reading a book I had brought with me to keep me company.

*   *   *

            That night my parents went out on their second date for the week. Ruth had gone to a friends house. Without permission. Ben was at the park with John. Without permission. And I was stuck sitting on the couch. Alone. Again.

            The doorbell rang

            I sat up straight. I wasn’t supposed to answer the door when no one else was home, I slid to my knees and crawled my way to the window seal. I slowly inched my head to the window, until just my eyes and forehead were able to see what was outside. Two men stood outside the door, talking between themselves. They were both wearing jeans, with black work boots. The larger of the men had a jean jacket, while the smaller had a black zip up coat. I couldn’t see their faces, they were blocked my the low-hanging rain gutter. The large man knocked again, louder this time. It startled me, even though I saw his hand move towards the door before the knock. I slowly backed away from the window, and made my way to the kitchen. An even more fierce knock came from the front room, it startled me all the more. As I turned towards the basement, I could feel my hands start to shake in search for the light switch, it was taking an irregularly long amount of time to find.

            A large crash came from the front room, and I sprinted down the flight of stairs, giving up on the light switch. I knew exactly where I was headed, and it didn’t take me more than fifteen seconds to reach it. I peeled back the thin dry wall piece from the wall, climbed behind it, and placed the dry wall back in the right place all in record time. My dress was caught in one of the cracks, I pulled at it. It must have been caught on something outside the haven of my hiding place. I continued tugging at it, refusing to open up the wall until upstairs was completely silent, and I could hear my fathers voice calling for me. The noise upstairs was extremely loud, whoever it was was making no attempt at being subtle, I could hear the kitchen table being moved around, all the cabinets were being opened and closed, furniture was being moved, loud stomping. It sounded like a herd of elephants had wandered into the house, and were kindly making their way out through the brick walls.

            The bricks against my back were cool, but had no affect on the sweat that was beginning to flow from every pore on my skin. I would have given anything to be at the park with my brothers, rather than being stuck in my basement while the house was being ransacked by burglars. And where were John and Ben? They told me they were going to be at the park across the street, they must have seen the men come into the house. I was going to give them a good smack across the back of the head when I saw them. The banging around upstairs seemed to quiet down, and now I could only hear their footsteps walking across the linoleum floor, back and forth. Muffled voices floated down the air vent. It was definitely two men’s voices, they were arguing about something, probably the lack of valuables in our house.

            The voices grew louder. And louder. And soon I realized the voices weren’t coming from the vent it was coming from the entrance to my hole. The men were at the top of stairs, debating whether or not the valuables could be hidden in the basement. Their footsteps descended down the wooden stairs, and the light came on. The light was seeping through the square shaped black entrance to the hidden hole. I backed up, curling my knees into my chest, and resting my chin on them. There was no way they could find this hole no one in my family could ever find me, how would two ignorant burglars? They had reached the bottom of the stairs, and were rummaging through closets, and boxes underneath the staircase. The small cracks surrounding the entrance to my hiding place allowed me to see their movements.

Hide and Seek Part 3

As the babysitter entered through the front door, we couldn’t help but notice a little friend she had located on neck. I think she noticed us staring as she immediately sent me to bed rather than waiting an hour, to put me to bed on my actual time like my parents gave her directions.

            In my bedroom, as she told me about the details of why children should get more sleep, I couldn’t help but stare at the rather large mole located on her neck. It seemed to pulsate with every heart beat that sent blood flowing through her veins. My eyes seemed to suddenly gain a magical binocular power, I felt as if I was so closed to the brown skin tag, I could have touched it with my nose. A single hair grew from its center, the hair was a color darker than the floorboards. I wondered if all old people got moles. I would certainly have it removed, if it had taken residence on my neck. It was obviously very eye catching, every conversation this woman must have must revolve around the person’s lack of eye contact. Could she not see it? Did she not own any mirrors? Surely she couldn’t be married. So many questions I had for this woman, and yet I was stuck in bed, her second head staring me in the face.

            After she finished her speech, and had returned to the living to watch the television, there was a knock on my door. Not just any knock, but the secret family knock. I jumped out of bed and tip toed to the door. It was Ben.

            “Come to our room, we don’t want you falling asleep and ruining the entire plan.” He said putting his arm around my shoulders, and guiding me to his and John’s room. I lay down on the floor in front of the dresser and waited for my shining moment, it came quickly. I had already fallen asleep, when the time came that Ruth shook my shoulders to wake me.

            “Alright it’s time.” John said looking at the watch on his wrist. “I’ll go get in place, Ruth you take her down stairs to the mole, and Ben you stay in here until you hear it.” John stood up, and went to my room. Ruth led me down the stairs to the living room, and quickly sprinted back up as soon as I had reached the mark. I shuffled over to the babysitter, rubbing my eyes for added effect.

            “I’m scared.” I whispered.

            “Scared of what? There ain’t nothing to be scared of. Except maybe this house.” She snapped. Her white curly hair shook with every consonant she spat at me, along with her extra chin.

            “There is something in my closet.” I sniffled. She rolled her eyes, and groaned as she stood and pushed me towards my bedroom. I smiled when she could no longer see my face. Once at my bedroom, I stood in the doorway pointing to the closet at the end of my bed. When the mole turned to open the door and show me that there was nothing in my closet, I backed up and allowed Ben and Ruth to do their job. It all happened so fast. First, the mole opened the door, and inside John, wearing a Davey Crockett hat, through up his arms and began growling. Ben and Ruth shut the door, holding it shut, as screams erupted from inside my bedroom. All of us were laughing so hard in the hallway that we had no idea that we had a man down inside the room. The mole began banging on the door and shouting for us to let her out. We could no longer hear John growling, and jumping.

            I shoved through Ben and Ruth and turned the door handle, the mole sprinted out of the room, down the hall, and out the front door. She wasn’t coming back. Inside my room, John was in the fetal position on the floor.

            “John? Are you okay?” Ben asked. John ripped the ski mask from his face.

            “She punched me in the eye!” He said laughing. “She actually punched me in the eye!” He laughed even harder.

            My parents were not laughing when they arrived home but by then we had changed our expressions to that of extreme shame. John looked even more pitiful then the rest of us, with a bag of peas stuck to his eye. When they first arrived home we were all in our separate hiding places, trying to escape the punishment that we were sure would be coming soon enough. Ruth was the first to submit to their calls for us, she came from underneath the stairs, unaware of my secret hiding hole, and slowly walked to our parents with her head bowed. I could hear them asking their questions, gritting their teeth at yet another disgruntled babysitter. They eventually called us all out, promising our punishment would be less severe if we were to show ourselves now. I, of course, wanted to avoid as much punishment as possible so I ran quickly up the stairs.

            “Don’t think this is getting you out of any punishment, because there will be punishment.” My father shook his finger in front of our faces. “But, your mother and I were talking at dinner, and we decided that we feel that you are old enough to watch yourselves now. But, Sydney cannot be left alone.” Ruth squeezed my shoulders in excitement that her status as a woman was coming into play. “We will be going to the out again tomorrow evening, and this will be the trial run for this no babysitter business. We will see how it goes then.”

            John removed the peas from his eyes to share a high five of excitement with Ben.

            “Now, back to the punishment…” My father repeated, getting back to the point.

Hide and Seek Part 2

I know you have been waiting all week to read part two of Hide and Seek. So, finally it is here. For you. And your loved ones. And your hated ones really. Pretty much anyone you wish to share this with... which I hope is a lot of people. Because that would make me happy. And when I'm happy I write more. And I think you would like that. To the story!

I was the best hide-and-seek player in my entire family, no one could ever find me. And that’s because none of them knew of my secret hiding place. My older brothers and sister would look and look, but never find me until they hollered “Ollie Ollie Oxen Free,” and I would magically appear. None of them could see the crack in the wall in the basement bathroom behind the wooden armoire. They were all too tall, but I was seven and the perfect height to see the boxed hole in in the wall.

            The basement of our new house was known as the kids room, it was my siblings and my place to jump around, play, and have fun. We could do whatever we wanted down there, the walls were already littered with holes from our rough housing, but that didn’t stop us from creating more holes with hockey games and baseball. The taupe carpet was stained a dark color from our muddy feet and soda drinks, even after countless scrubbings the stains seemed to hold their ground. My father recently insulated the walls, because the basement seemed to retain the cold better than a freezer could. 

            The first time I discovered the hole was an accident, I had been using the foot stool to look in the mirror above the amoire. I must have stepped on the stool at an awkward angle because it slid out from under me, sending me into the wall, and the stool into the wall. When I gained my bearings again, I saw there was a perfect square shaped hole in the wall, and the wall itself that was removed lay unharmed on the floor below it. I stuck my head inside the hole, it seemed to have been made for me, the perfect size for just me to fit in. The perfect hide and seek hiding place. The walls were a sleek silver material, with black charcoal coating them. It must have been used as a coal bin once upon a time. I put the dry wall back in place and ran up the stairs to where my family was.

            My older sister was sitting on the yellowed couch in the living room, her fingers fiddling with her green skirt. My brothers sat on the floor, their bellies against the taupe carpet,  they wore matching khaki pants and brown belts. The old black and white television was turned on to the cartoon channel. Mickey Mouse danced across the screen, on a boat, tapping his foot, and whistling a catchy tune.

            “Hey Syd. Want to watch the television with us?” my sister, Ruth, asked. I shook my head,

            “I want to play a game.” I said shuffling my muddy tennis shoes across the carpet towards my brothers. John looked up at me first, he knew what was coming, but Ben’s eyes remained captivated by the television. I leapt into the air, aiming myself towards their backs. My stomach hit first, I made a humph sound as I landed on the destination.

            “Sydney!” they both moaned, and rolled over, flipping me onto the ground near their heads.

            “Let’s play hide and go seek, please!” I pleaded.

            “We played two hours ago.”

            “Please!”

            “No.”

            “Please.”

            “No.”

            “Please.”

            “Fine!” Ruth groaned, “Get up, guys. If we play now, we wont have to play later, because the baby will be in bed.”

            “I’m not a baby!” I shouted. She always called me that.

            “You got scared when we played hide and go seek last time, why do you want to play again? You are just gonna start crying and one of us is going to have to come find you.”

            “I won’t get scared this time.” I whispered.

            “You will if the ghosts come out to get you.” She poked her finger at me.

            “There is no such thing as ghosts. Mom said so.”

            “Then who are the people hiding in your bedroom at night?” She smiled.

            “Shut up, Ruth.” John sighed. He turned his back to the rest of us, and put his elbow over his eyes.

            “One… Two… Three…” He counted, Ruth moaned in protest as we all took off in separate directions trying to find the best hiding spot. I, of course, sprinted down to the basement to my new found hiding place. It was somewhat cramped, but it fit like a glove to a hand. I smiled as I sat back and waited to never be found.

“You are cheating!” Ruth accused me.

            “I am not! How can you cheat at hide and seek?” I replied back to her.

            “I don’t know. But, you are cheating! You have won every game we have played so far!”

            “You can’t cheat at hide and seek, Ruth.” John defended me once again.

            “Then how does she keep winning?” she said, putting her hands on her hips.

            “Because she is the tiniest of us all, she can squeeze into weird positions.” John crossed his arms. The two glared at each other, both holding their stances. Even though John had at least half a foot on Ruth, she knew how to hold her own in a house with older brothers.

            “Why don’t we play a different game?” Ben offered. But, both Ruth and John ignored the option and continued their staring contest.

            “We could play monopoly?” He attempted to make the offer more appealing, but in my mind a twelve hour game of monopoly did not sound appealing at all. However, I knew now was not the time to interject my own feelings. A pair of feet, wearing shiny leather shoes descended the stairs, they belonged to my father.

            “Ready for…” His sentence ran off as his eyes ran over the situation in the living room. Ruth and John caught in a death glare, while Ben and I were standing on either side of them, trying to diffuse the situation. My father hiked up his pants, and cleared his throat, but the scene didn’t move.

            “Is everyone ready for the babysitter?” He tried his question again. Ruth broke first, “Dad, I told you we didn’t need a babysitter this time! I’m old enough to take care of everyone, and John will be here to make sure I do everything right. You promised! Dad! It‘s 1971, we don‘t live in the 1800‘s!” She whined.

            “Honey, I told you I just wasn’t comfortable with you kids being home alone, yet. Your mother and I agreed on it already, so that is the last word on that subject. Do you understand?” He said using his stern voice. Ruth bowed her head. Dad turned and walked into the kitchen to greet Mom. Who looked gorgeous, wearing a red dress, with black heels, her hair styled in an up do. It was my parents date night, which happened once week, and so far we hadn’t had much luck with babysitters. We, somehow, always seemed to drive them away.

            The four of us turned, the prior fight forgotten, and sat down on the couches to discuss what the plan for the night was.

            “So, what’s the poison choice for the night?” Ben directed his question to John, the leader of the pack.

            “It’s all planned out. She will send Sydney to bed about an hour after she gets here. Then another hour after that she will send the rest of us. Half an hour after Sydney is in bed we will…” John’s voice trailed off, the television was on and capturing my attention. American Band Stand was on, I didn’t know the band, but it had a very catchy tune. All the dancers were doing the jitter bug, in their skirts, and high heeled boots. I wondered how old I would have to be before my parents would let me have high heeled boots.

            “Sydney! Are you listening? You are a big part in this one.” John shoved my shoulder to get my attention. I shook my head that, no I had not been paying attention. He rolled his eyes, and continued to tell me what my part in the babysitter prank was going to be. Soon, the babysitter arrived.

          

Hide and Seek

Oh goodness, my friends you are in for a treat. Haha I have decided to post Hide and Seek in parts, be gentle! I can't quite remember where I got the idea for this story... I believe it was in a dream. That is usually where most of my ideas come from. I have strange dreams.

Hide and Seek

          I remember the first time I saw the house in South Dakota, it looked as if it were straight out of a horror film. It stood alone, different from all the other houses. The exterior was rundown, with white paint peeling away, revealing old moistened wood paneling. The lawn was overrun with weeds, children’s toys, and the occasional item of clothing: a shoe, a sock…etc. I told my mother that I didn’t want to live there, that it looked too scary for us to live into. My father explained that the house was perfect for us, what he called a “fixer upper”, and the cheap price swayed them all the more.

            My brothers snickered horror stories in my ears as I walked up the cracked cement walkway for the first time. Stories of murder, and torture taking place in this house, which explained why it came fully furnished. According to Ben and John, my older brothers, a man had gone crazy and killed his entire family in the upstairs of the home.

            “They couldn’t get all the blood out of the floors, so they put carpet in to cover it up.” John laughed.

            “I bet there is still chunks of brain between the floorboards.” Ben added. The front door of the home seemed to back up the stories of Ben and John. It hung off its hinges at an odd angle, causing whoever dared to enter to squeeze against the door frame and step over it. Even after my father had put the door upright, it was difficult to open. I would often throw my entire seven year old body into it, attempting to open it, and even then it wouldn’t budge.            

            My father was the first to enter the house, he threw up his arms and said,

            “Welcome to your new home family!” he spun in a circle in the large living area. The entire front of the house was open. To the right was a large room, with two French doors that were permanently held open. To the left was the mirror image of the room on the right except there was a rather large black piano in the middle, the only piece of furniture I had seen yet.

            “Where is all the furniture?” My older sister Ruth asked my mother. My mother did a quick look around of the piano room, and shrugged her shoulders.

            “Maybe the put it all in one room to make room for us and our things.” She guessed. As my sister and mother were speaking I left the room to further examine the house with my brothers. Even though they teased me and told me terrible stories, I always felt safe with them. John was eleven, the eldest of us. He always seemed like he knew what was coming up next, he never seemed to be afraid of anything, so I stuck at his side in scary situations. Ben was nine, but he acted like he was still my age. He could always make any situation fun with a joke or a funny face. Through the second door in the piano room was the kitchen. It was extremely bright, probably because of the stark white walls, and white laminate. It wreaked of bleach, which was a contradiction to the rest of the house which held at least an inch of dust on every surface. We continued walking.

            Through another door in the kitchen we came across the staircase. Piles of couches, kitchen chairs, the kitchen table, foot stools, paintings, bookshelves, desks were all piled in front of the stair case. All piled on top of each other, with legs, and cushions sticking out in erratic postures. There was more dust on this pile of furniture than anywhere else in the house. My brothers and I stood in a line, staring at the pile of furniture and wondering how it got there, and why it was there. It completely blockaded anything from passing into the upstairs. My mother came up behind us,

            “Well, that’s odd.” She said tilting her head to the side, and squinting her eyes.

            “Why is it like that?” Ruth asked, mimicking her mothers every move, eager to soon become a woman.

            “I don’t know.” She thought aloud. “Maybe they were afraid of water damage or something.” Ben leaned towards me,

            “They were trying to hide from the murderer.” He whispered.