Around the Corner (Discontinued)

Chapter 27

"It's hilarious! You'll laugh so hard."
"Yeah, June," I murmur. Weariness made her following words fade. My eyes close.

"Look at my two little girls! Carlos, get the camera!" My feet hovered over the floor, swaying. I smiled at the flowers trimmed on the end of my dress. It was a linen dress. It had a frilly lace collar that itched and made me uncomfortable. It didn't make the dress any less pretty, however. A girl in a dress much like mine lifts me, and cradles me on her lap.
"Be careful, Fern!" A man warns, his voice as sturdy as he was.
"Of course," she chirps. She grins warmly at me, her sweet face lighting up even more. Her necklace caught my attention. It was a gold dove. I reached for it, to which she laughed and pressed the pendant on my hand. Unlike her smile, it was cold.
"Look at the camera," a woman cooed. A blinding flash followed.

My head raises ever so slightly from the headrest. I yawn.
"I spoke to Ari's uncle on the phone," June remarks. "There's two families, I think." My eyelids are too heavy. "He said that the neighbors who run the ranch are an elderly couple, a veteran and an author. Kinda interesting, isn't it?" My eyes drift to her face, but I never see it.

"Shh!" Fern whispered. Her hand felt warm against mine. Fern's braids swayed by her hips, ropes of silky hair. My own hair was brushed neatly behind me, too short to be braided. The floorboards creaked underneath our bare feet as she lead me down the dark corridor. I liked the feeling of the cool wood against my feet, but I hated the darkness. It was unending, and swallowed us up so easily and so hungrily. I recalled Fern telling me light was the fastest thing known to man, and that only amplified my fear. Light was fast, but wherever it travelled, the darkness was already there.
"I'm scared," I whispered. I couldn't even see my hand in front of me, intertwined with Fern's. I wanted to run, and find shelter in my room where a nightlight guarded me from harm.
"It's okay. The ghosts can't get us if we're quiet." I knew no comfort in her words, but I found some in her presence. With one hand in hers and the other holding onto my plush bear, I followed her. We reached a door. I could only tell by a flickering light above the entrance. Fern pried the door open, and revealed yet a darker room.

"Let's go," she whispered eagerly. The glint in her eyes matched the shine of a thin gold chain around her neck under the unstable light.
"No! I don't wanna go! I wanna go back," I cried. I stepped away from the door, letting her hand go and wrapped my arms tightly around my plush. It's beady eyes looked back up at me.
"C'mon!" She whined, irritated. I shook my head, holding onto the white bear.
"Fine, I'll go," she said. She disappeared into the room.
"No! Don't leave me alone!" I yelled, not daring to go into the room. The darkness flanked me, and I pressed the head of the plush against my chest for comfort. It's fur felt soft against my arms.
"Fernanda, please come back," I cried.

"One more hour!" June exclaims. There's hollering. My eyes roam, but my body is comatose against the seat. Outside the window, the sky is a pale blue. I press my eyes shut, hearing June's laughter.

"I don't want to play with you," she hissed.
"Why not, Fern?" My hands curled around the stuffed bear. It used to be white as blank page, but over the years it developed a gray tint.
"Because I'm busy," she growled, reaching for one of the books that surrounded her. I wandered deeper into her room, gaping at all her things. I loved her room. It was pretty, like her- cardboard swans hang from her ceiling. Tacked on her walls were pictures and pages torn out of an encyclopedia. I didn't know how to read, so I could only look at the tight-knit print in clueless admiration. My favorite thing was a glass dove, perched on a shelf out of reach.
"Puh-lease," I begged, "just for a little bit?" She sighed, and I pouted. "Fine, but only for a little bit. I jumped excitedly, and sprinted to my toy box. Fern started to pack away her books, making space.