Haunted | Daryl Dixon

1. Darlina

There was nothing commemorable about the old, beat up '67, bright red pickup truck. Nothing ceremonious about the way it rolled onto Dart Street on that scorching summer day in the middle of July the summer of 1981.

Any of the residents of the small neighborhood- those that bothered to look up, that is- would not have a single clue that the occupant of the passenger seat would change the cul-de-sac for years to come.

Specifically, for a little, faded gray house that the red truck was just pulling past the driveway of.

The gray house was home to three people. One man and his two sons, one of which had just turned eight, and the other nearing eighteen. The youngest of the trio would be the most impacted by the red pickup truck. For better or for worse.

A brown mop of hair could be seen as a young girl laid her arm on the sill of the window and gently rested her head upon it, eyes sweeping back and forth as she took in her surroundings. There was a sort of boredness on her face that would make any onlooker believe that she had been staring at this street for her whole life. And in some ways, she had.

In her eight years on earth, she had moved a total of twelve times in that old, red pickup truck. And each time, the new house they moved to was in a similarly rundown, beat up neighborhood such as the one she was currently rolling through. Even though the towns changed, that much stayed the same.

Just like all the years prior, all of her worldly possessions were shoved into boxes in the back of the truck, swaying from side to side slightly due to the gravel that had immediately replaced the pavement as soon as they got off the highway.

She let out a small huff of air, effectively blowing away a stray piece of hair that had fallen in front of her eyes as she did so.

From beside her, her father glanced at her and grunted, "This place is gonna be different, girl." He said in that gruff voice of his that made it hard to tell whether or not he was annoyed all the time.

The girl didn't bother to respond, continuing to lazily look out the window while trying not to roll her eyes. He always said that, but in the end, it didn't matter. It never did.

When the vehicle finally came to a stop, it was in an uneven driveway in front of a small, red house. The girl hopped out of the truck as soon as it came to a halt and examined her newly established living residence.

The shutters that had probably been white once upon a time, seemed one minor storm away from falling off. The paint of the siding was chipped, but overall, it wasn't terrible.

Momentarily, her eyes strayed away when a blue bird flew from her roof. She allowed her vision to follow it as it made its way down a few houses before coming to a stop on another roof, that of which belonged to a gray house. Underneath where the bird landed was a boy, about her age, sitting on the front steps of his porch, stick in hand, seemingly drawing shapes in the dirt by his feet.

As if being able to sense her gaze, the boys head turned up, looking slightly taken aback when his eyes met hers.

"Well?" Her fathers voice made her drag her eyes away from the boy as he came to stand proudly beside her, "What do you think?"

"I wish it were blue." She mumbled sarcastically. As if her opinion on the house would matter anyway.

"Hey," The smack he gave her upside the head wasn't enough to hurt, but it was firm, "Don't sass me, girl."

She scowled, crossing her arms, but choosing to remain silent.

He grunted, nudging her towards the car, "Come on, grab a box and get to unloading."