Christening The House

TOMBSTONE.....

A/N: It is an supernatural story.
And I don't want to reveal anything about the plot in advance........
So please read and find out.......

🌞🌜🌞🌜🌞🌜🌞🌛🌞🌛🌞🌛🌞

Oregon......

A beautiful....old....and tiny Town near Pacific ocean with only a population around 2000 people.

Me and my Dad, we shifted here, just few months ago, after my Mom's death in an unfateful car accident.

My dad was completely heartbroken after loosing his soulmate....

Forgetting his suffering son all along.

He never took any heed to consider my pain, I have lost my mother...she was the most important part of my world also. But he couldn't see past his own loss. The noise of his breaking heart was so loud and deafening that the painful whimpers of my greiving heart couldn't reach his ears. And in all this chaos.....I lost my Dad too, along with my mom.

This small town doesn't feel like home, but neither does Bangkok, not anymore..... after mom, that place that house has become the most horrible place for us, me and Dad both. And I know why my dad has choosen this town, this is my mom's birth place...though she never lived here, after she left this town with my grandparents when she was only a year old. There is nothing that could remind of her to dad but I know, here.... he feels connected with her, where.... She opened her eyes for the first time.....this place which brought her into this world..... And she met him and love him.... Marry him and had a family with him. So he left that place where she took her last breath to came here.....where she took her first one.

I started my college's freshman year, just a month ago. Our house is a walking distance away from my college so I always walk to the college in every morning, trying to get more familiar with this new place.

I walk straight to college from my house in the mornings but on my way back home I take a different way, every day. I memorize each house and yard on the neighborhood. By the end of the month, I have covered every possible route, twisting left and right, through the grid of narrow streets till grand villa's. The wind here is a little damp and cold flowing in from the ocean, smell....a mixture of seaweed, mud and pine trees.

I stop at an intersection. My home, is off to the right. Just two blocks away.

It's still bright, So I turn left.

My feet takes me past an abandoned orchard. Lichen and fungus clamber like coral... up the trunks and branches, thriving in the waterlogged habitat. I tuck my dripping hair back under my hood and walk on.

The fence around there was covered in rusty metal, falling prey to decades of neglect, just like everything else here, in this small old town.

Curious and bored, I enter the abandoned cemetery, behind the orchard.

I stopped short on my steps.

Something calls to me. It hummms inside of me.

A heat. A vibration. A longing.....

I pick my way between the stones, reading names, long forgotten.

William Jackson....

Maria Romanoff...

Jennifer...... something beginning with a 'T', her last name erased by time and the elements.

The feeling, the knot of energy beneath my ribs, guides me further back, further in. Near the southernmost edge of the fenced lot, close to an ancient tree. Its limbs hang tired and heavy. From between its dark green branches, a glimpse of white catches my eye.