The Girls of Grimmwood Hollow

Chapter 1

I walk through the door of our brand new house. (Well, not brand brand new, but new to my family and I. This thing must be at least a billion years old.) I immediately am hit by the stench of rust, rain, and granny. The smell is unbearable. I cover my nose with my shirt, grip my suitcase with the other, and officially claim the first step inside. At least I get to be the first, with all the other bad stuff happening lately. Like moving into this house.

My sister, who was already practically walking on top of me before, shoves her way inside and dramatically yells, "I'm the first one in!" Gosh, she can be such a child sometimes. Who would even make that a big deal, anyways? 

I take in all of the creaky, dusty old house and frown. Mom would absolutely love it. I can already image what she's going to say later on. Things like, "Oh, this house is so darling!" and "Oh I love this house so much!" and "Oh, suits our style perfectly well!" My mom just loves antique things. Anything wooden? We've got it. From the antique shop? We've got it also. Anything from great-aunt Sue's yard sale? You can already assume we have it. Her love of old things and my dad being working in a museum, well, you can imagine the tragedy our house went through as it had a "remodel" by my mom. Oh, so lucky for us, she doesn't have to remodel this one. 

Lacy tapestries cover the windows. Dusty stacks of books litter the little rustic tables strewn across the large room. An 1800s bookcase holds massive volumes of books. The ceilings are high, with beams runnings across it and an antique chandelier hanging from it. Oldschool candle sticks sit on top the little tables. I sigh. This was only the foyer. I can't bear to image a whole house distressed with this style. At least my parents picked the biggest house in town. At least we don't live in a cottage.

Not bothering to check out the other rooms, I march right up the creaky, wooden staircase to the upstairs hall. I open the first door. A bathroom. The second. A bedroom, yet the size of my shoe. I keep going. The fourth door. Another bedroom. Kirby can have this one. I try the next door. Huh. It's locked. I twist the knob and push on it hard, but it won't budge. That's so weird. I  move to the next one, still wondering what was behind the last door, and check the room out.

 It's the nicest one so far. It's large, with a canopy bed, a bay window, plus a bathroom. I hover there, my hand on the knob, pondering my choices. This bedroom is definitely the best by far, but there might be a better bedroom just down the hall. Kirby's a few doors down, and if I go, she might take this bedroom and there won't be a better one. I yell, "I call this room!" Run inside, and slam and lock the door so my sister can't get in. I sigh and flop on the large bed, but then suddenly start to cough violently as layers of dust spring from the mattress and wrap around my lungs. I immediately stand up. 

This is going to be a very, very long summer.