H A U N T E D

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o n e

I restlessly drum my fingers against my thigh as we exit the main highway that runs through Homer, Alaska and turn into the last street of the town, where the houses are a few miles away from each other and there's a bit more privacy than at the center of the town.

I stare at the trees that pass me in a blur and the drizzle that falls down the back window of the Uber I rented. The driver hums along to an old country song that I faintly recognize, and I act as if I don't notice the short looks he passes at me through the rear-view window.

I notice how the air seems to have a blueish tint to it and how fog rolls out from the woods that surround us. I anxiously wonder if I have enough warm clothes for the cold weather, glancing down to take in my long peach ankle-length dress with my short ruffled sleeves. I only took a white cardigan as my carry-on on the plane and a copy of The Secret Garden.

I glance at the car's digital clock and notice just in time as the red numbers change to 11:11. A sigh of relief escapes my lips as I feel a sense of comfort move through me. Is this my mother's way of telling me I'm on the right path, that good things are coming my way? I turn my eyes to take in my surroundings but notice no one peering at me.

"Here you go, kid."

We stop in front of a two-story limestone house at the end of the road, with a few flowers blooming in the garden and a broken-down swing-set that's rusted around the corners of the structure. An old blue Ford truck stands on the gravel of the driveway and a fleeting thought of mine finds this strange, as it's parked in front of a closed garage area.

I hand the driver two twenty-dollar bills, thanking him for the ride before exiting the car. I retrieve my suitcase and carry-on bag from the boot of the car, throwing my bag over my shoulder and pulling the suitcase behind me. Small rocks of gravel shoot out from under the wheels of the suitcase as I walk up to the main entrance of the house, climbing the three creaking steps that lead to the porch. An old rocking chair with two plush pillows on it, sits in the corner of the porch, with a small round glass coffee table next to it.

I look at the view from the porch, where only a forest of trees meets me, disappearing in rolling hills. I have never felt more connected, yet distant, to modern civilization.

I knock carefully on the front door, giving two quick taps with my knuckle against the threshold. No sound comes from within the house and I silently wonder to myself whether if anyone is home, and even cared to remember my arrival today. I jump back when a sudden sound of metal screeching spooks me from my train of thought, and I recognize it as a loud lock being opened. The door swings open, revealing the enormous figure of a man who sends a chill of terror down my spine.

His eyes are hardened and heavy with mystery, staring down at me and holding me in place. Creases of years fold in his skin, like a map of where he's been in his years. His stark-white hair is neatly trimmed and combed to the side, while his matching beard is short and trimmed as well. He towers over me - which surprises me as I am quite tall for a girl my age - and his mouth is set in a determined line.

"Ophelia", he grumbles lowly and takes me in. My tone matches his as I hive one sharp nod of my head.

"Grandfather."

He takes a deep breath, maybe emotionally motivating himself, maybe cursing himself for accepting my request to come live with him. Despite whatever he's thinking, he moves out of the doorway and gestured for me to come in. I give a nod of thanks and step into his house, taking in my surroundings.

The living room is exactly as I expected it to be, with lots of brown, white and red colors. The leather couches face the fireplace, while a small TV is mounted on top of the fireplace. Pictures of my Grandmother hangs on the walls, with a few baby shots of my mother playing in the garden, bathing or cuddling in bed, scattered around the room. On the bookcase, large hard-covered books with Latin titles are neatly stacked, with few wooden ornaments on the shelves.

My grandfather - or Finn, as my mother called him, the few occasions when she willingly talked about him - closes the door behind him and stands straight with his hands behind his back. His eyes look around passively at me, probably analyzing how I'm in taking his house.

"Did you make most of the furniture in here?", I ask curiously, dropping my bag and suitcase and moving to a marble statue of a wolf howling. My fingers graze the surface of the art piece, feeling the smooth texture travel beneath my fingers.

Finn only grumbles in response and walks to the dining room, gesturing to an area out of sight.

"This is the kitchen. You have free space to do just what you want, but we'll take turns making meals every night", he informs me and opens the fridge to show me its contents.

"You will be responsible for your own breakfast and lunch. I won't be babying you."

I never expected anything less.

"Okay", I respond, and he closes the fridge once again. Finn walks to the south wall of the house, where a large sliding door showcases what I assume to be the backyard of the property. He slides the door open and walks outside. I eagerly follow suite, hearing the soft running of water nearby.

"This is the backyard. That shed over there-", he points to a medium-sized shed in the corner of the property.

"-is where I build. Try to stay out of it, if you can. The rest of the backyard is yours. I do believe your mother mentioning that you like to garden."

I take on the large backyard, with a willow tree in the opposite corner of the shed. A large white picket fence barricades the backyard from the wilderness behind the house. I snort at the sight of the picket fence until I realize why Finn just said.

"Wait, you and my mom talked about me?"

Finn seems to ignore me as he walks back into his house, waiting for me to re-enter and sliding the door shut. My mother mentioned that her father wasn't the best of socialites, that he found words to be useless and time-wasting. I didn't realize how serious she was up until now.

Finn gestures for me to follow him up the stairs to the second floor, where he shows me the bathroom and a closed door.

"This is your room. Your grandmother used to say that a guest room should be white so that the guest could decorate it", he pushes the door open. I try not to dwell on the fact that he called me a 'guest' and enter the room. I try not to gasp out loud at the beauty of the room once I'm in it.

The room faces the backyard, showing off the mountains in the distance and the trees that seem to go on forever. I realize the soft running of water I heard earlier is the source of a brook running past the property. I can see the brook now, clear and mighty as it rolls down the hills.

The wallpaper is off-white with a green and pink floral design on it, entwining into vines. There's an antique Victorian closet between the two windows of the room, a white wooden color that seems a bit washed-out. A double-sized bed with white bedding waits to be slept in, with a floating shelf above it. I turn around to give Finn an enormous smile, feeling absolute giddy at the thought of decorating the room.

"I love it! Thank you so much", I grin and drop my luggage at the foot of the bed. Finn rubs the back of his neck, awkward and taken off-guard before he mumbles a 'you're welcome. He turns to walk away but pauses in thought and points to a door in the corner of the room I didn't notice before.

"That's your bathroom."

He then leaves.

I close the door after Finn exits and look around the room, taking it all in. This will be my home for the next year, at least until I graduated from Homer High School. I can make it my own, I think. I start to re-decorate the room in my head, placing everything where it ought to be, and wonder if there's a chance I could go to a thrift shop to buy some accessories and if I would be able to go to a spiritual shop in the next town over. I doubt Homer would have any shops like that.

I go to lay down on my bed, feeling my tense back muscles relax and the stress behind my eyelids fall away. My mind flits back to the clock earlier, and the time it showed.

Somehow, I have a feeling everything will be alright.

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a/n - it's been brought to my attention that some chapters may be cut off - please let me know if you do see any weird formats in the chapters.