The Book of Fresh Blood

A Little Family Problem

Slouching back on the sofa I had just pulled in, I take a good glance around the room, it seems to be filled with dust, bugs, spiderwebs, and much more. "Esme, get the hell up." Storming through the room is my father, very frustrated and stressed "Look at this place! You have no right to slouch around." He looks as if he would smack me any second. "Take it easy." My mother walks in while grabbing my hand and stands me up. "Jeez Es, you're filled with dust." Mother pats my back and down my leg, swatching the dust off of me. "Father needs help carrying some more things in." She leans in. "Go now, I don't want to see him too angry" she pats my shoulder and walks into the next room. I smile awkwardly and walk down the hall to the entrance where my father is standing, holding the door open for me.

I grab hold of the first 2 boxes I see, they were decently sized. As I was walking toward the house, I stumbled on a slight stone. Falling face forward, My first instinct was to put my arms out to catch myself. The boxes tumbled on the floor, bursting open. A couple of books and papers flew out. "Goddamnit Esme!" My father walked passed me. "Do something right for once!" I sit up and dust my scabbed knees off. I look around devastated and disappointed in myself.

I could hear Father's voice faintly getting quieter as he's walking into the house towards mother. The papers were muddy and full of rocks and dust. I try to dust them off as I stack them in a pile, setting them back in the box. I pick up the scattered books and put them in a stack, but one stands out to me. It was just a plain black journal, nothing written in it but a star with a line through it. Of course, I don't think anything of it and set it in the box.

The sun was starting to set, and we had brought almost everything in but just a couple of boxes. We had dusted everything, and it was time to organize my room and get it suitable to be able to sleep in tonight. As I walked into the room I got a small whiff of burning wood, swatching the air I look over towards the window. A yellow and orange light gleams through the window from the sunset. I set down a couple of boxes and start making a bed with pillows and blankets on the floor, it'll have to do for tonight. I plug in an old lamp I had packed by accident and set it next to my bed. It flickered on and off slowly, but aggressively getting faster and then going slow again.

I look around the room, shuffling through everything I could find. From the two closets, one on the left of the room, and the other on the right. There were some dents in the walls and holes. There was this massive hole that you could see through, when you looked through it you could see the wood planks that were used to build the house. In the front of the room was the entrance door, it was old and chipped. It creaked when it opened and closed, there was also a dent in the wall from when the door would slam open and hit the wall.

Nighttime was creeping by, the sun was fully hidden now. My room was pitch black, the lamp decided to give out and stop working after about 10 minutes. My parents had laid down, so my house was silent. The wind outside was wooshing by, and a twig kept hitting my window. It felt like a witch's hand tapping my window, trying to tell me to get out of this house. But we all know, that's just childhood fears. I struggled to sleep this night. I could hear the mice making small movements in the walls, at any moment they could jump out and eat me alive is what I had thought throughout that whole night.

Sun was rising before I knew it. I fell asleep around 4 am that morning. My back was aching from the hard wooden floor that was stabbing into my back. As my eyes were adjusting all I saw was my dad standing over me, His eyes were puffy and tears were dripping from his sore eyes. It seemed as if he had been crying all night or something. "She's dead" He stared at me not even blinking once. I sat up confused and adjusted my eyes to the light. "What do you mean dead?" He didn't say anything. "Father? Who's dead?" He blinked softly as a tear fell from his eye. "Mother." He said faintly. My eyes looked shocked. My hands were trembling and I couldn't focus on anything. I dashed out of the room, slightly wobbling and losing balance. "It's your fucking fault, Esme." Dad said faintly as I got farther from my room. I bashed through the door where father and mother had slept that night. There laying on the bed was mother, not moving or breathing. I knelt on her and tried shaking her. "Mother?!" I gasp as I hold her pale cheeks. "Mother?!" Tears were falling down my cheeks landing on her pale skin. "Who did this to you?" I clench my fists from anger and lay next to her, huddling her cold body. She's been dead for a while.