Haunted Love

Chapter/Preface Part 2

Preface

Summer in Dulcet, Alabama

Hot, humid air circled around the room, making curtains wave in the breeze as sweat formed on the brows of the men moving heavy furniture up the stairs. The fresh scent of paint would have been overpowering if not for the open windows and doors. The humidity made the already hot day seem sweltering.

The sound of heavy foots steps danced with hard puffs of air as backs were strained and legs were pushed to take just one more step. Tiny dust particles floated around, catching the light and disguising themselves as glitter.

Months of renovations had made the two story house on Pearl Street picture perfect. Floors had been sanded and smoothed, walls had been patched and painted, and new pipes had been installed. The kitchen and bathrooms were expanded and updated and every bedroom had been chosen with care.

Lindsey Makon ran in circles, rushing from room to room as fast as her five-year-old legs would carry her. Her Capri pants were covered in grass stains and her purple top had a huge Popsicle stain just below her chin. Her brown pigtails hung to her waist in tight braids and her white sneakers were making dull spots on the newly glossed floor.

She sighed as she came to a stop at the bottom of the stairs. Her blue eyes were wide with excitement and her freckled nose sniffed the air as the smell of pizza reached out to her from the dining room. She looked down at her hands and sadly scrunched up her mouth. Her momma had told her to scrub the mud from beneath her short nails, but making mud-pies was hard work and sometimes the dirt liked to stay where it was stuck.

Shaking her head, Lindsey stomped her way up the steps. The small balls on the ends of her pig-tails hit her in the butt with each step and she kicked at the new carpet her parents had picked out for stairs. It was pink...her most un-favorite color.

To Lindsey, pink was over-rated. It was a sissy color for girls who liked dolls and dresses. She didn't like either of those. Her toy box was full of cars and army men that snuck into battle, crawling on their stomachs so they could sneak through jungles and capture the enemy. While her friends played dress up and pretended to get married, Lindsey pretended to be a pro-wrestler and a firefighter. She and her dad loved playing football in the backyard, even if it did make her momma hang her head in shame.

She reached out and gripped the rail, remembering the lesson that her mom had taught her about being careful. They had never lived in a two-story house before and she had already been told a million times to always walk slowly and never rush.

Her small fingers, encrusted with red clay and mud, glided against the smooth wood. She was three steps from the top when she felt a prick and she jerked her hand away from the wood. The splinter was embedded in her finger deep, so deep that she was sure it would never come out.

Lindsey contemplated getting her momma to take care of it, but as tears welled in her eyes she thought of the long process of using a needle or tweezers and then the even worse process of having that stinging medicine poured on her wound and she decided to take care of it herself.

Popping her dirty finger into her mouth, Lindsey glared at the wooden rail and wished she could get her leg high enough to kick it. She marched to the bathroom and rolled her eyes when she saw the pink walls and accessories her momma had picked out. The entire bathroom looked like someone had poured Pepto-Bismol all over it and then decided it still needed more pink.

She washed her finger, mumbling under her breath when the water came out too hot and burned her hand. Dirt washed off, swirling in the sink before it disappeared down the drain. The splinter of wood was much deeper in her finger than she thought and she whimpered a little before trying to use her fingernail to scratch it from beneath her skin.