Prologue

The unseen spirit emanated from a dilapidated dust covered old sofa trying to remember anything at all beyond this empty place.

 

Chapter 1:

The Dare

     Lana would have been your average teenage girl; that is if she had possessed enough confidence. Her time in school was virtually drowned in isolation, even amongst so many students, as she passed quickly from one class to another trying to avoid quite a few specific people, most notably the head cheerleader Brianna. Despite the inevitable cruelty she would endure if caught, Lana would sometimes pause to admire Brianna for her gorgeously slender figure and her impeccable fashion sense; but she never lingered long. She desperately longed to be so thin and beautiful, especially since she couldn’t remember ever being so.

     Her mother had also always been … large. Intellectually, Lana knew that obese was probably a much more accurate description. For all the sense for which she prided herself of having, however, she couldn’t bring herself to openly admit this about her mother for fear of shattering whatever remained of her own self image. Though she loved her mother dearly, she frequently wished that she hadn’t inherited the “fat gene”, as she often called it.

     This particular day started like most other days, lying in bed trying to muster the conviction that this day would somehow be better than normal. After her self-negotiations had clearly failed, she dismally rolled out of bed, barely able to will herself to move toward the bathroom. There always seemed to be way too much to do in the morning but she had long accepted that it was all necessary. Of all of her morning routine, however, she liked the shower the best. She loved just relaxing under the cascades of hot water quietly with closed eyes imagining any number of altered realities. Of course, in the back of her mind, she still dreaded many of the remaining preparations that awaited her.

     After retrieving her glasses from the nightstand, she glanced at herself in the slightly steamed-up mirror and reflected that she could actually be kind of pretty if she could just lose some weight. She suddenly raised her hands to her mouth and gasped, realizing that today was the day for the school pictures. Her motivation dropped significantly as she frantically searched through her wardrobe. She hated picture days because the bullying and harassment were always much more abusive.

    She quickly settled for a black ankle length knit dress with long sleeves. To avoid the perception, and thus the taunts, about going to a funeral, she included a two-tone gold necklace tiered to different lengths and a wide gold bracelet in the ensemble before putting on her Hello Kitty watch. She knew that she was probably a little old for Hello Kitty but she thought the character was just so cute. She also threw on a gold chain-link belt that sort-of matched the bracelet and necklace after considering her appearance in the mirror.

     Lana usually took her time to eat breakfast but she normally completed her morning routine a little more quickly. She ended up skipping breakfast even though she knew that decision would haunt her later. Running left her out of breath as she rounded the corner to find the bus pulling away. She was thankful that the bus driver stopped for her, though she wondered if she would have been more thankful if he hadn’t. As she got on the bus, she heard some boy whispering about the struts almost breaking but she was able to ignore him because she had no idea what he was talking about.

     As usual, she was the last person off the bus because everyone pushed in front of her, denying her the opportunity to stand. Trying to avoid pretty much everyone, she hurried to her locker. Brianna was already there and loudly voiced her ritual taunt “make way, wide load!” She forced herself to ignore the girl as she rummaged through her locker.

    As she closed her locker, a girl bumped into her making her drop her books and then grasped Brianna’s hand conspiratorially as she walked past. A teacher standing across the hall turned his head away, in pretence of ignorance. Once she gathered all her books, she looked imploringly at the teacher who simply told her to hurry so she wouldn’t late for class. As angry as she was, she felt the steely talons of depression digging into her.

     She walked into class just before the bell rang and of course someone had taken her seat in the back forcing her to sit in front. She scarcely allowed herself a glimmer of hope that perhaps sitting in the front might take her out of the spotlight that somehow seemed to always attract the teacher’s questions to her when she sat in the back. Quietly she walked over and squeezed onto the seat of the seat/desk combination.   She stifled her reaction as she heard the boy behind her whisper “ugh” near her ear. Seeing the teacher look away, she knew that the boy’s act of cruelty had been witnessed and wondered if there were any decent human beings left in this world. She already knew that there were but most of them were victims of bullies just like she was.

     She found it hard to concentrate sitting in the front as she imagined that all of the students behind her were staring at her and silently mocking her. Receiving congratulations for the perfect score on yesterday’s test really didn’t help either. She wished that the teacher would just keep quiet about the tests’ results, especially since all the kids already seemed to hate her so much already. Still, academics were pretty much all that she had in life at the moment so she attempted to force her attention back to the teacher.

    Despite the little daydreams that kept diverting her attention, she correctly answered all of the teacher’s questions, knowing that she wasn’t doing herself any favors. She once tried answering all the questions wrong to avoid the ridicule of being an “over achiever” but the bullies just called here stupid and lame-brain that day instead of brainiac and book-eater. She immediately went back to answering the questions correctly. She still hated being picked on so badly but at least they were calling her smart, sort-of.

     Near the end of the class, the teacher actually called on the girl beside her. “I don’t suppose SHE knows the answer but maybe you should ask her,” whispered the boy loudly enough for everyone to hear as he pointed at Lana in an exaggerated gesture. Lana was sure that she saw the flicker of a smile cross the teacher’s face and the girl snickered but avoided eye contact. “Well Lana?” asked the teacher, “What is the answer?” Lana couldn’t believe what she was hearing and really wished that the class were over but she answered the question while the other students roared with laughter.

     With only 10 minutes remaining, the class erupted with protests about the pop-quiz being passed out. She kept one, passing the rest of the stack to the boy behind her. She allowed herself a glimmer of satisfaction for the stunned look of the boy behind her before glancing over the paper on her desk. The quiz was almost verbatim the content of the chapter of the text book she had read the previous night so she had absolutely no problem completing it.

    While waiting for the bell to ring, Lana noticed that the girl sitting next to her was struggling with the last question so she discreetly held up two fingers indicating the second multiple choice answer. Lana could see the look of relief signifying that the girl understood her message. Though she never directly expressed appreciation, Lana did notice that that girl didn’t participate in the exit taunts consisting of the rest of the class chanted “smarty pants, smarty pants”. She knew that this was not meant as a compliment but she was sure that worse embarrassment awaited her tomorrow when the results of the pop quiz were presented.

     Finally, just before lunch, it was time to go get the pictures taken. As she expected, almost as if it came right out of a 60’s sitcom, someone instructed her not to break the camera. Because this one was so cliché, she almost thought it comical despite the mean intent. When it was her turn, seemingly all too quickly, she occupied her mind in deep concentration by reviewing the lesson of her last class thus allowing her to ignore everyone around her. Against the encouragement of the photographer, she really couldn’t find anything worthy of a smile. Finally, thankful for the conclusion of the dreaded school picture, she headed reluctantly toward the cafeteria.

     Lunch was probably her least favorite time of day because the other kids always seemed to have much greater latitude and evidently more time to be mean. Seemingly another little ritual was that someone, usually one of the jocks, would mock her with feigned pity that the school doesn’t have larger trays. Still burying herself in thought, she took her usual seat in the back corner away from everyone else. After eating as quickly as she could, another habit that served as material for vicious taunts, she left early, retreating to the bathroom by the wood shop which was pretty much the only place she could find any reprieve from her school life. When the bell indicated the end of her lunch period, she hurried to class and settled into a seat in the back of the room.

     Lana managed to avoid any serious confrontations until she arrived at 4th period. Brianna walked up behind her and shoved her hard on the back sending her sprawling; and then walked away. All of the students around her were gawking and laughing. Not a single one of them offered to help. She glared after Brianna thinking, not for the first time, that she was truly the evil one and resolved that she would plead with her mother again tonight about how she desperately needed to change schools.

     She had barely gotten herself up on her knees when Brianna arrived with a teacher. Brianna pointed at her and declared in exaggerated volume and clarity “Lana is the one that ran into me and it was on purpose!” The teacher helped Lana to her feet but, thanks to Brianna, quite unexpectedly escorted her to the principal’s office. Lana was sardonically amused that someone like her had to get into serious trouble to get anyone to help her with anything at all.

   After a few minutes of sitting in the outer office reflecting how insane and obtuse everyone in this God forsaken school always seemed to be, she was summoned by the principal. She walked into the office with an extreme bitterness reflected in every feature of her face. She refused to even look at him as she silently sat down in front of his desk.

     “Do you know why you are here …” he glances at a paper on his desk “uh, Lana?” he asked.

     “Because everyone in this school is cruel, blind or obtuse … or all of the above,” whispered Lana almost inaudibly before trailing off at the principal’s sharp glare and looking down at her feet.

     “Please look at me when I’m talking to you young lady!” the principal more demanded than requested.

     Lana looked up at him and saw the same condemnation held by everyone else in the look that he obviously meant to be stern but comforting. He regarded her for a moment, real sternness replacing the façade. When he finally spoke, it was with the same scorn to which she had become so accustom.

     “You have a serious problem with your attitude, Lana,” he scolded.

     Lana had simply had enough of this. She was tired of being cast down for the deviant behavior of everyone else, especially on a day when she had endured so much humiliation already. She sat forward and glared at the principal with something that closely resembled hatred.

     “No!” she countered bitterly. “I have a problem with my weight. You and your teachers … and most of the stup ..., um, students here have a problem with attitude. Now you just go ahead and blindly do whatever your prejudice mandates but don’t tell me that I’m the problem when I was the one sprawled out on the floor!” Lana was screaming by the time she finished. At the look of surprise that crossed the principal’s face she added, “OH? YOUR WRETCHED TEACHERS DIDN’T TELL YOU? WHAT A SHOCK!” Without a look back, she stormed out of the office and resumed her former seat.

     After a few moments, the principal came out looking more than a little chagrined and advised Lana that she should go home for the day and calm down. Lana didn’t wait for him to finish. She walked out into the hallway toward the exit refusing to acknowledge anything else the principal might have been saying. Her fury was fading by the time she reached her locker. As she turns to vacate the building, she saw Brianna standing outside the bathroom motioning in her direction. Since the hall was empty, she was obviously the recipient but after everything else today there was simply no trust left in her heart. Disbanding her curiosity, she hardened her face into a bitter frown and huffed past her tormentor.

     Lana lived only a couple of miles from the school so she decided that there was no need to drag her mom out of work because the walk would do her good anyway. On her way home, she saw a gigantic black snake sunning itself on the road. She cringed and stifled a shiver as she skirted around the horrifying creature, watching it closely to ensure against any sudden attacks. She let out a sigh of relief when she was past the beast. She would have left it at that if she hadn’t heard her neighbor’s ancient truck rattling down the road. The old man was blind as a bat. Lana giggled as she wondered if bats were known killing snakes.

     Biting her lip and wishing there had been anyone else around at this moment, she quickly looked for something she could use to prod the snake off the road; a stick or something (like a tree branch … or better yet the whole tree). Not finding anything useful, she considered just leaving the snake to its fate. Though she was sure that that would be her own ill fortune, she brashly threw her backpack at the snake in a desperate gambit to save the monster. The snake hissed in protest but slithered quickly away just before the old rusty truck reached the place where it had lain. Lana was thankful that the truck had also completely missed her book bag. Wary that the snake was lying in wait for her, she cautiously retrieved her bag and quickly fled the scene.

     By the time she got home, aside from being really tired, Lana was really depressed. She looked in the kitchen for a snack that she hoped would help cheer her up but not even her favorite, rocky road ice cream, was alluring enough to restore her spirits. As usual, especially after days like today, she just couldn’t understand how people could be so cruel. With her bedroom door closed and locked securely behind her, she lay down on her bed and finally allowed herself to cry.

     She was easily able to categorize this particular day definitively as the single worst day or her entire life. Most days she only has to endure some of this torment as she hurried quietly from class to class avoiding the worst offenders. Still, she always tried her best to help others whenever possible. Unfortunately, experience has conditioned her to not expect reciprocal consideration for her own needs or feelings.

    She wished she had someone to talk to sometimes, even longing for the comfort and support of her mother, but she never said anything about her troubles because she knew that her mom had trouble enough for both of them. Part of her silence though was the fear that her mom would be disappointed in the way she handled the situation. Worse, she knew that her mom would charge into battle and she worried that her mom would get in trouble for taking the time off work. No matter how she thought about it, she always concluded that she just had to take responsibility for herself.

     Two days after her worst day ever, everything was more or less back to status-quo until lunchtime. She had paused to admire Brianna again. The memory of Brianna in the Herve Leger gown she wore at the last dance surfaced unbidden, a vision much embellished by her exceptionally vivid imagination. How often she wondered how nice it must be to be as rich as Brianna’s family. She had considered more than once the possibility that she had a crush on Brianna but she always maintained that she was straight and pushed the consideration aside. She thought it more likely that the fascination was purely how Brianna simply always looked so beautiful wearing fashions from her favorite designers.

   Before she could move along unnoticed, however, she saw Brianna motioning again … apparently to her. Lana’s first instinct was to move on as fast as her feet would carry her given the normal outcome of such interaction but she hesitated though she couldn’t think of even a single reason why she should. Curiosity getting the better of her, despite her trepidation, she approached Brianna. Her mind was racing trying to read the quirky smile that greeted her. She simply couldn’t grasp why her tormentor was suddenly so eager for her audience.

     “Lana, right?” she started hiding all evidence of disdain. Without waiting for Lana to respond, Brianna continued, “yeah, well, I know that I have sometimes been really mean to you but I was wondering if you would like to have some fun tonight.”

     Lana’s suspicion was in hyper drive but curiosity was still in control. More than that, though, was that she direly longed for acceptance and this may be the chance of a lifetime. She looked down and was nearly pulled back into reality by the baggy outfit she knew didn’t adequately hide her grandeur. She managed to stammer out “Um, sure,” though she wasn’t sure if she was really telling the truth.

     “That’s awesome,” responded a red haired girl on her right. “So, like, meet us at the old Milton place at like about 7:00 sharp tonight … if you’re not too chicken.” Her taunt was cut short as Brianna’s elbow struck her ribcage rather hard. With tears welling in her eyes, she managed to finish her thought. “So, like, see you there,” she challenged. Again, without waiting for a response, the cheerleaders turned and walked away.

     Lana hurried to her next class, nearly torn asunder by mixed emotions. She wanted so badly to believe that such a miracle was actually possible but she somehow always got hurt when she trusted anyone. The rest of the day was lost to the overwhelming conflict washing back and forth through her mind. She desperately hoped that there wouldn’t be a pop-quiz the following day. Even dinner that night, which was usually the highlight of her day, seemed so distant and surreal as she hurriedly attempted to steal herself against the probability of heartache she wished would not come.

     She barely touched her food that night. After dinner, her request to go “study” with some girls from school was answered with an ecstatic and resounding yes. She really felt bad about lying to her mom, something she had previously expressly avoided, but her certainty of the inevitable denial likely coupled with an extremely long winded lecture left her little other choice. Simultaneously eager and nervous, she went to her room hoping to find an outfit that didn’t make her look like a hippopotamus.

     The Milton house looked as ominous as ever. She had read some years ago that the house had been condemned and couldn’t understand why it hadn’t been torn down yet. The rumor, which seemed much too cliché to take seriously, was that the house was haunted by the ghost of a girl who was murdered there 40 years ago. Lana didn’t believe in ghosts and fully knew how quickly such rumors took on a life of their own but she couldn’t suppress a shiver as she beheld the ill-maintained property that did indeed look exceptionally spooky. She wasn’t sure if she was relieved or not when she saw her hosts sauntering toward her. That all-too-familiar pang of jealousy regarding such stunning grace and beauty stole over her as she watched them.

     “So?” inquired Lana.

     “Ok. So there is supposed to be a diary in the house …” said the strawberry blonde girl trailed off nervously as she looked around and caught sight of the house.

     “We like totally want to be the first to like really know what actually happened in there,” continued the same red haired girl from earlier that day.

     “Tina!” admonished Briana silencing her. “Look, find us that diary and you can even hang out with us sometimes,” she finished looking hard at Lana.

     “Um, I don’t know …” Lana almost whispered. She knew that she was blowing her chance but it seemed wrong and dangerous and probably even illegal.

     “Come on, girls,” commanded Brianna as she turned to leave. “I knew that she was too much of a chicken.”

     “Wait!” cried Lana with only a little hesitation, panicked by the thought of what might be slipping through her fingers. She paused with a nervous glance at the house. “I’ll find the diary if it really exists,” she acquiesced in surrender. She agreed to provide the coveted book to Brianna at school on Monday and watched the cheerleaders swagger away with an arrogant walk that seemed more like a victory dance. Despite the promise of companionship, she really wished that she had the courage to just stand up to them.

Chapter 2:

 

The Old Milton House

     Lana stood for an extra long moment after the other girls were out of sight. Her gut told her to just go home. This inclination was especially prevalent considering the source of her charge. The biggest hurdle in her internal debate was the certainty that Brianna’s promises were likely as empty as the house into which she was about to trespass. She glanced apprehensively at the ominous house, reminding herself that she didn’t really believe in ghosts and seriously questioning her sanity.

     With a furtive look to be sure that nobody was around to witness her transgression, she pushed the gate further open to allow her passage. She couldn’t help but notice that all of the houses along this section of the street looked as just as empty. The cobble stone walkway leading up to the house, which had probably been very inviting once upon a time, was almost impassable for the overgrowth of weeds. Unfortunately, a sweeping inspection of the yard yielded no alternate points of entry. Summoning her resolve, she stepped forward wishing that this foolish expedition she found herself undertaking would somehow already be successfully completed and rewarded.

     Even before her first step had touched down, she felt a tickling feeling on her ankle and pulled her foot back. She considered briefly that Capris may not have been the best selection. She looked down expecting that she had brushed her leg against a weed, already starting to feel foolish. Chagrin transformed to squeal of terror at the sight of the spider crawling away from her. She was sure that the spider was as large as her hand though she had absolutely no intention of putting her hand anywhere near it to prove the point. Despite her racing heart and fear of the trouble she was surely going to be in, she took a moment to make sure the spider hadn’t bitten her before continuing her approach.

     She tried fruitlessly to pull the cuffs of her pants down so that more of her legs would be covered. When that failed, she just squinted and grimaced as she forged through the overgrowth. Every time something brushed her calves or ankles, she envisioned an even larger spider crawling on her or a humungous tick burrowing into her skin. By the time she reached the safety of the porch, her imagination had escalated to a snake that was wrapped around her ankle and slithering up her leg. Suddenly realizing that she was past the weeds, she opened her eyes wide and anxiously inspected herself. Her terror subsided with a sigh of relief when all she found was a leaf sticking out from her sneaker.

     Ascending the stairs, she would have felt relieved by her victory if the wood didn’t creak so much under her weight. After the second straining stair, she surmounted the next couple by gingerly stepping on the outer edge. Her heart was racing again and she desperately wished she could just page to the part of the book where the diary was already in her hands. She managed the rest of her climb without falling through only to find herself facing the daunting challenge of a 4 foot dash across the porch.

     With great trepidation, she slowly and very carefully placed one foot in front of the other. Her heart was pounding so hard that the thu-thumps felt almost like sonic booms. She feared that the vibrations of her heartbeat alone might be enough to collapse the porch. Another step followed by yet another and then another still. It felt as if the porch must be a mile wide.

    She was even afraid to turn around, certain that the police had already arrived and were sitting in their cars laughing at her lack of coordination. The kind of mockery she imagined would have been far worse for her than simply being arrested. She finally reached the far side of the porch without any problems but she was a little alarmed that the doorknob was missing and the door was ajar.

     Glancing over her shoulder revealed just an empty street. She wondered again why it was that all the other houses around all seemed so dark and empty. It seemed particularly odd that nobody had seen here yet or even peeked nosily out from behind drawn blinds. As if in answer to her question, a police car turned onto the street at the end of the block forcing her to quickly duck inside to hide behind the door. The motion of the door conspired with her hasty steps to send swirling into the air some of the thick layer of dust on the floor. She waited for a minute for some of the dust to settle a little before moving again.

     As the visibility improved, she could see that there was a hallway that led to the back of the house. She looked hard but couldn’t discern what that room might be. As she moved to stand, her hand pushed through a large cobweb covering a large portion of the corner that held a huge bug. Suppressing a yelp, she snatched her hand back and waited in horror for the spider.

     The spider never came. With morbid curiosity, she examined the web more carefully and discovered that that bug was actually the biggest spider she had ever seen and thankfully it was dead. She couldn’t imagine what could kill such a huge spider, let alone kill it so quickly that it got stuck in its own web. She briefly considered but quickly dismissed that the house may actually be haunted.

     Once her fear had passed, she proceeded cautiously, but without the exaggerated care exercised on the porch, down the hall. She had only managed a couple steps before she was forced to stop again; this time covering her face with her handkerchief. Dust was swirling and floating all around her making it extremely difficult to breath and stealing away any trace of visibility. It was an easy decision to return in the morning with more adequately preparations. She thought that a better course of action for tonight would be a trip to the library to research the circumstances surrounding the Milton family so she could have a better idea what she had gotten into.

     She retraced her steps back to the sidewalk with considerably more confidence. It was an easy walk since the library was only a few blocks away. When she arrived, she still had 15 minutes left before closing. Being no stranger here, she was able to find a few articles about the numerous incidents and mysteries surrounding the Milton house. With her study material in-hand, she made her way back home. After all the excitement, she was actually looking forward to a quiet evening of reading.

     The most interesting article, dated September 20, 1973, was about the murder of Melanie Milton. Melanie’s father, Thomas Milton, was suspected of the murder based on the testimony Melanie’s boyfriend, Alex Purnell, who said he had been studying with Melanie when the father reportedly went berserk; killing Melanie and chasing the boyfriend out of the house. He told officers “I barely escaped with my life”. The case was ruled a homicide. Tomas Milton was reportedly still at large and Melanie’s mother, Sally Milton was presumed missing. The body of Melanie Milton was not found. Police reported that Thomas Milton should be considered armed and dangerous and are asking for any tips relating to the whereabouts of the suspect. A statement from the chief of police, Walter Purnell, indicates that it is still early in the investigation but that every effort was being dedicated to bringing this criminal to justice. A swift close of this case would most certainly ensure the police chief a favorable lead in his bid for mayor in the coming election.

     Another article, dated September 28, 1973 described the discovery of two bodies found in a car that police say had crashed during a high speed chase on the road leading to the town quarry. The car had reportedly been rented the week before by Thomas Milton. The deceased were believed to be Thomas and Sally Milton. Sally Milton was allegedly killed by a single shot to the forehead, execution style, and was found in the trunk of the car. The body of the driver was found near the tree into which the car collided. Though the body couldn’t be conclusively identified, it is believed to be Thomas Milton. The case, which was being considered a murder/suicide, has been closed according to Walter Purnell. The bodies were scheduled for cremation early this week.

     A third article, dated April 1, 1975, told of the resignation of the Mayor, Walter Purnell, amidst a scandal pertaining to accepting bribes related to the preservation of Harlington Heights. Sources have indicated that the Mayor himself lived in the Harlington Heights residential community, the sanctity of which was reportedly under fire due to new zoning regulations to expand the town. Opponents of this new zoning which had been initiated Sally Milton, tragically killed by her estranged husband, said that the integration of Harlington Heights into the town proper would undermine the cultural heritage of this community. The mayor was overheard making comments about “keeping the riff-raff out”.

   Amidst calls for Purnell’s resignation, there had been a rise in the support for the new zoning due to a whole block of empty houses surrounding the infamous Milton Manor, described by residents as the neighborhood’s haunted house. Apparently, some of the residents in adjacent houses had died of mysterious causes. Following these unsolved deaths, hysteria had caused many other families living near the Milton house to leave. The hopes for the plan were to re-establishing residency in the community. The more affluent and influential residents of the community had threatened to vacate should the expansion succeed.

     The next article of any real interest, dated June30, 1975, told the accounts of numerous construction crews commissioned to raze the Milton property which had long been deemed uninhabitable. Peculiar and unexplainable mechanical malfunctions and sightings, the causes of which were never identified, scared the city workers preventing any real progress as well as numerous residents living nearby that hadn’t already moved away. Further efforts to tear down the building were canceled.

     The remaining articles all amounted to speculation and superstition. A high school student claimed to have seen a glowing apparition walking by the window though the journalist pointed out that the window identified changed with every narration of the story. Another tale was an interview of the next door neighbors as they were moving away from the neighborhood and told about strange noises and screams coming from the house early in the morning. A member of the demolition crew told of watching the site foreman freeze seize and collapse before getting up and running out of the room where he reportedly feel to his death through a hole in the floor. A college bound teenage boy facing charges of trespassing insisted to interrogators that he was drawn into the house by an evil siren long after the highly incredible story ceased to be amusing. Lana believed none of this but read it all the same. A piece of one article about the foreman actually proved interesting because it included pictures that showed the layout of the house.

     Lana slept restlessly that night. Part of this was due to the reprimands of her conscience about lying to her mother. Part of her anxiety was thoughts of the promise of continued adventures coming the next day but mostly the distant hope of actual friends. The rest of her sleepless night, despite her disbelief of things like ghosts, came from dreams of spooky apparitions stalking her through a creepy old house. She laughed a little at the memory of the last of her nightmares but felt a little uneasy nonetheless. After a longer than usual shower, she donned an old sweat suit and waited for her mom to get into the shower.

     She snuck past the bathroom and went down to the basement. She found the plastic toolbox her that had belonged to her father. She really didn’t know why her mother kept the toolbox around since most of the tools had succumbed to the ill-fated destiny of a lifetime in a damp basement. Still, she was able to find a flashlight and made sure it worked before closing the toolbox and heading back upstairs. Almost as an afterthought, she also grabbed the pair of goggles and one of the painter’s masks from the shelf beside the washing machine. She took everything back to her room and put them in her backpack.

     After breakfast that morning, she asked to go to the library. Carefully skirting around her mom’s hopeful questions about meeting friends there, she hurried to her room to prepare. Despite a growing urge, she resisted telling her mom everything and asking for advice for fear of the consequences and disapproval for the previous night. More than that, however, she really wanted to be able to truthfully talk to her mother about her ‘real’ friends for once. She prayed that this would truly be a chance to break out of her social rut.

     As she approached and entered the old house, she couldn’t believe the horror she had experienced the previous evening. In the morning light, the house really didn’t look haunted at all but rather just a community eyesore. She remembered the black and white picture in the article and reflected again that this house must once have been quite lovely. It saddened her to think about the desecration time levies on all such beauty.

     Once inside the door and out of sight, having confirmed that the street was still empty, she put on the painters mask and the goggles. She knew that she must look ridiculous but she giggled to herself that the ghosts probably wouldn’t laugh too loudly. The house was gloomy and extremely dusty but the light from the windows was more than enough to allow her to see. Foregoing the flashlight, she pulled out the schematic of the house and got her bearings. She noticed a couch and a television in the room to her left but the room looked otherwise completely empty.   The room to her right had a very large hole in the middle of the floor so she decided to continue down the hallway first. Slowly and carefully she made her way down the hall to the dining room.

     There was a doorway on the right just before the dining room that led into a small bathroom containing only a toilet and a sink. Lana could see the outline on the wall where a mirror must have hung above the sink but there was no mirror to be found. She amused herself with the thought that the people that used to live her probably put the mirror in storage because they couldn’t use it anymore. Of course, she knew that it was much more likely that the mirror had been looted; and maybe not so long ago judging by the distinct contrast of the color of the wall once covered by the mirror.

     She looked around the gloomy dining room for anything of interest. The long oval table was broken in half with one of the legs missing. Several of the chairs were shattered while the two chairs that seemed to be intact lay toppled on the floor. There was one rather dirty window on each of the outer walls. Both had tattered paper blinds like those installed by contractors to help a new house feel homier. Sadly, the atmosphere now could not even be described as homely.

     Meticulously picking her path around the debris of broken furniture, she rubbed off some of the grime from the side window. The side yard, all the way to a fence that was falling apart, was as much of a jungle as the front yard. It was more difficult to clean the back window because the sun had baked the dirt onto the glass. The back window looked out over a garage and a small yard, also overgrown. A short driveway seemed to connect the garage to an alley but the gate that once protected the house was missing. Alas, the other thing that was missing was that coveted diary.

     From the window where she stood, she could see the television and sofa that she had seen from the hallway. On the remaining wall was a door to a pretty big kitchen. She couldn’t tell what kind of flooring it was for the layer of dust but she decided that it was still pertinent to tread lightly. She was sure that island in the middle was granite and had probably been gorgeous in its day. Unintentionally, she lost herself to a short daydream of how many parties such a grand kitchen must have hosted.

     She quickly reined in her thoughts and refocused on the game that was afoot. Though hardly worthy of the cognitive prowess of Sherlock Holmes, she decided that she should probably be careful when checking the cabinets and drawers. Most of the cabinets were very easy to search with the doors either open or missing. She was a little spooked to see more dead spiders hanging from their own webs.

    There was, however, a treasure to be won for her vigilance. A key, probably the spare key for the doors, had been taped to the back of one of the drawers. Her pride was tempered by the memory of the front door with its missing doorknob but she put the key in her pocket anyway. When she forced open the door of the refrigerator, which was already ajar, she nearly fainted.

     The smell from the refrigerator was nearly unbearable even though much of the content looked to be long past sustaining even mold. The source of her duress was the dead mice rotting on the bottom shelf. She backed quickly away from the refrigerator hurting her bum on the corner of the Island. Rubbing her tailbone, she quickly decided that if this mysterious diary was hidden in that ‘frig, it was welcome to remain lost forever. Somewhat panicked by the thought of all the nasty diseases she had read about that were attributed to mice, she pulled out the flashlight and scanned the floor. Her fears were realized when she spotted what were clearly mouse feces and footprints. As she navigated toward the door on the back wall, she really wished she had possessed the foresight to bring gloves.

     The door exiting the kitchen was a solid wooden door with a deadbolt that was locked from the inside. As she unlocked the door, she noticed movement from the corner of her eye. A mouse ran from its hiding place right in front of the door causing her to jump away, this time narrowly missing the corner of the island. She apprehensively returned and opened the door only after the mouse was clearly gone. On the other side of the door, stairs led down into a well-lit garage.

     She turned off the flashlight and put it back in her backpack before descending the stairs. She had noticed that the light was dimming a bit so she added new batteries to her mental list of supplemental accessories she needed to bring if she had to return tomorrow. As an afterthought, she turned and locked the door behind her. Every step made her evermore glad that these stairs were made of concrete. Half way down the stairs, she stopped and looked around. She could see some rusted tools in front of her on a shelf mounted high on the wall. She certainly didn’t see anything resembling a book but there were some bones at the end of the shelf that looked like they belonged to a cat. Below her was a door lying on the ground near the doorway and an open garage door.

     On the floor beside the outer door was a broken handle of some tool lying next to a battered door. Finishing her descent of the stairs, she noticed the frame of a car that rested on the cement floor. By the looks of it, there was nothing left to strip off of this vehicle. Beside the car was a broken sledge hammer, presumably the other half to the piece lying by the door. She quickly peeked out behind the garage at the empty alley and decided that this would be a much better and indeed more discreet avenue by which to leave.

     Turning away from the back yard, on the verge of returning to the kitchen, she observed another door on the far side of the car. It was another solid wooden door and it was of course locked. The key fit however and with a little effort, she managed to get the door open enough, even with the long rusted hinges, to gain entry. She wondered idly if her mom had any oil

Impressum

Verlag: BookRix GmbH & Co. KG

Tag der Veröffentlichung: 22.03.2015
ISBN: 978-3-7368-8494-6

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Copyright © 2015 T.W.Smith. All Rights Reserved.