. . .

..

The lawn is long overdue for a haircut, the blades of grass nearly as tall

rhododendron.

the bright yellows and oranges in the petals a beautiful contrast against the

black siding.

And in autumn, sunflowers would be crawling up the sides of the house,

flowers during the spring season. Hyacinths, primroses, violas, and

as me, and the three acres of clearing bursting with weeds. I bet plenty of

snakes have settled in nicely since it’s last been mowed.

Nana used to offset the manor’s dark shade with blooms of colorful

I can plant a garden around the front of the house again when the season

calls for it. This time, I’ll plant strawberries, lettuce, and herbs as well.

I’m deep in my musings when my eyes snag on movement from above.

Last time I checked, there’s no central air up there. Nothing should be

I love that.

a shit what anyone else thinks about it.

Fuck what my mother says. I’m living here. I’m a successful writer and

have the freedom to live anywhere. So, what if I decide to live in a place

that means a lot to me? That doesn’t make me a lowlife for staying in my

in a house won’t change that. I know what the fuck I want, and I don’t give

The attic.

able to move those curtains, but yet I don’t doubt what I saw.

Curtains flutter in the lone window at the very top of the house.

I can’t explain why, but I do.

Coupled with the looming storm in the background, Parsons Manor

looks like a scene out of a horror film. I suck my bottom lip between my

teeth, unable to stop the smile from forming on my face.

hometown. I travel enough with book tours and conferences; settling down

Especially mommy dearest.

The clouds yawn, and rain spills from their mouths. I grab my purse and

like a wet dog.

fall.

I slide the key into the lock and turn it. But it’s stuck, refusing to give

porch steps, flinging drops of water off my arms and shaking my body out

mechanism finally turns and I’m able to unlock the door.

I love storms—I just don’t like to be in them. I’d prefer to cuddle up

me even a millimeter. I jimmy the key, wrestling with it until the

sprinkle to a torrential downpour in a matter of seconds. I bolt up the front

step out of my car, inhaling the scent of fresh rain. It turns from a light

under the blankets with a mug of tea and a book while listening to the rain

Guess I’m gonna have to fix that soon, too.

A chilling draft welcomes me as I open the door. I shiver from the

mixture of freezing rain still wet on my skin and the cold, stale air. The

I feel as if I should start my story with “it was a dark stormy night...”

interior of the house is cast in shadows. Dim light shines through the

I look up and smile when I see the black ribbed ceiling, made up of

windows, gradually fading as the sun disappears behind gray storm clouds.

hundreds of thin, long pieces of wood. A grand chandelier is hanging over my head, golden steel warped in an intricate design with crystals dangling

The black and white checkered floors lead directly to the black grand

staircase—large enough to fit a piano through sideways—and flow off into

from the tips. It’s always been Nana’s most prized possession.

the living room. My boots squeak against the tiles as I venture further

inside.

...🥀🥀

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