Things I've Never Seen Before

The Town

"This was a quiet town. The summers were warm, the food was moderately good, and the company was minimal. I couldn't understand why we weren't even on the map; we had a movie star living with us. She had been in a few pictures, but not enough to call a career. The name of the town I live in is called Old Apple, and tourists call it a ghost town. We have old buildings that used to be bullet-shaped diners, but now they're tattoo parlors. The movie theater still runs, but it isn't as big as it used to be; half of it is a shopping mall now, where people only go on the weekends. There used to be more people living here, but then something happened. My best friend's gramma said that it was the murders that drove everyone away. Some say it was a sickness. Others say it was the cemetery on the edge of town where some teenagers used to go and have midnight gatherings and howl at the moon. They thought that they used to talk to spirits until one of them was killed, and draped over a gravestone. No one knows who did it, whoever killed the innocents in Old Apple was a mystery. There was my mother who was killed at the young age of 27, my grandmother at 28 and my great-grandmother at 29. As you can tell, my family, the Dalys, have lived in this town for generations, in the same house on the same street that my great grandmother Wanda came to with her growing family years ago. I plan to find out who has ended my mothers before me. Whoever committed these crimes against my family, they were perfect murders."

I stopped at the end of the page and looked up at my audience, my schoolmates. They all looked up at me with solemn eyes and dry expressions.

"That was good, love. We all enjoyed that very much, thank you." My teacher told me, patting my shoulder. I walked back to my seat with heavy steps. I was being patronized again. I felt a nudge on my chair, and I turned my eyes beside me. Emma. She was grinning at me.

"No, it was really good, Este." She whispered, but I knew she was trying to make me feel better. I smiled back. I could always count on my best friend to support me, even if what I was doing was pointless.

"It's okay, nobody really pays attention to anything I write." I replied.

Outside of school, I was free. Free to roam and free to be by myself which was what I loved doing. I could be by myself in the library, in my room, in the field behind the Finnegan's barn, on the water tower. When I was by myself, I wrote, and I drew. I could draw very well, since my dad had shown me how to. I just couldn't get faces quite right. I kept them all in a little red notebook he had given me on my 14th birthday. A notebook was handy and I could carry it with me everywhere I went. I had a few friends: Noah, Fagan and Emma mostly. I liked being with them sometimes. We mostly listened to music, talked and laughed at Noah and Fagan as they tried to wrestle each other. 

Old Apple was boring but it was comfortable. I wasn't like the girls in the movies we had in theaters who ran off to follow their dreams, or meet someone hot and electric while having a gap year in New York. I was normal. I read books, I drew and I had some friends to keep me company and to tell me stories about their lives. Everyone who had ever lived in Old Apple was a stereotypical small town native and led a very normal life. They either sold trees, sold corn and handmade soap or were a part of a club. There were supper clubs, books clubs, writing clubs, quilting clubs, and fashion clubs. There were even wine clubs.

I never thought I was beautiful or anything, but my dad called me beautiful all the time and that was enough for me. I had dark hair and it was long until I cut it in '98 when everyone wanted to look like Winona Ryder. I didn't play in a band or go to parties or 'hook up' or do anything every other girl was doing those days in bigger cities. Emma would never do those things either, we didn't have that many boys in town and there was never a need to party. The only parties were birthday parties where the whole town came because there wasn't anything else to do.

Christmas of 1996 were when things got a little strange.

 I didn't know it until after everything happened. Dad's favorite holiday was Christmas and so he and I celebrated it in our special way. He bought my brother and I a turkey every year, glazed it with honey and stuffed it with spices. He also made really good fried onion and green bean casserole, a Daly tradition. I would make biscuits and Will, my little brother would grace us with his presence after playing outside all day.

After dinner, we opened the presents we gave each other. We drew names each year but that never worked, so we all got something from each other. Our tree wasn't magnificent like the tree in New York City but it glowed enough to see through the window of our house. I always enjoyed walking down our street and seeing the trees in the windows. Then we would huddle together on our one sofa in front of the tv and watch either Scrooged, Merry Christmas, Mr. Lawrence or The Christmas Story. Those were the only VCR tapes we owned that were Christmas themed. It was the Christmas I was sixteen, days away from seventeen when something happened.

 We had just finished the Christmas Story and credits rolled up the humming screen when there was a soft knock on the door.

 Will heard it first.