Adeline grew up not knowing much about her Nana other than the fact that she's loony. But is she really? What are the odds that her loony Nana is actually very much sane?
If you saw a key on your doorstep, would you pick it up? Adeline did just th...
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𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝟐 — 𝐢𝐭 𝐰𝐚𝐬𝐧'𝐭 𝐚𝐬 𝐛𝐚𝐝 𝐚𝐬 𝐈 𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐮𝐠𝐡𝐭 𝐢𝐭 𝐰𝐚𝐬
At first glance, just looking at this house gives me the creeps. The thought of how much murder vibe I got from it makes me shudder. Do you suppose it's normal to think there's any crime that ever happens in this small town?
There's a broken-down playground in the yard. The grass was left unattended. Vines and mosses grew around the house. It's basically the perfect scenario for a horror film. It's like I've been sucked into one.
I've been watching too many horror films lately. Usually in those films, a family moves into a new house and finds out at later moments that the house that they lived in was haunted and that they weren't alone in the house.
I looked around the house again and shook my head. Basically, it's just a normal house. Just a normal big old house that needs renovating in some areas.
I decided to shake my earlier thoughts away and ran up to the porch. The house is still sturdy. I step on the wooden board and it still holds me. The house might need a bit of retouching, but it's still as sturdy as any other house.
I ran my hand on the dusty old boards. The boards felt thin and veined, as if they had been frozen by a hundred winters, and baked by a hundred summers. They have a strong odour of dust and age.
On either side of the door, there are two benches placed neatly on the porch. There's also a vase with a plant growing in it. The vase was surrounded by a mess of fallen brown leaves.
I ran back down and let my eyes wander around the house. It's a big house, the kind that most American kids fantasise about growing up in. It had turrets, gables, dormers, balconies, a screened-in front porch, and formal gardens. It was also beautifully tucked away among the trees.
The house is vacant because grandma has been in the sanatorium for the last twenty years, ever since the day mum turns eighteen. People said that she went mad and delusional these days. They said she even tell them that she was talking to a bunch of fairies and that she was apparently the queen of fae.
I don't remember Nana much. Mum rarely talks about her and we rarely visit her. But one thing is for sure, she's clearly a troubled seventy-five years old lady.
Mum left home the moment she married dad, wanting nothing to do with Nana.
"So, this is grandma's house?" I asked.
"Yes, honey," she answered shortly, almost in an uninterested voice.
"I like it. It's a pretty place to call home."
"It's not really that bad moving here, isn't it?"
I didn't answer that question. I want to forget yesterday's argument, but it's quite hard since my mother never laid her hand on me before. I turned to look at her. The moment my eyes dropped on her, a frown found its way to my face as I saw her working hard, juggling all our suitcases and bags in her arms. I walked up to her and took my bags and cases off of her.
