If Only

Hydrangeas

Aghast at the sound, I jump back. The black, ivy covered gate creaks open, welcoming me in. I creep through the eery front yard, the brown grass crackling under my boots. The gate locks loudly behind me and I whip my head around to see that the rusted fence has disappeared. In its place is a gate made of pure pearls and a freshly manicured lawn, butterflies sitting delicately on the flowers that line the pathway.
I start anew down the path, ecstatic by the time I reach the door.
The door is dusted gold with a silver knocker that looks as if it will break if someone touches it. I hover my hand over it. My fingers clasp the ring, lift it slightly and let go. It bounces about 4 times and I cringe at the sound.
The fancy door opens with burst of wind that almost blows me off the stoop. In the foyer stands the boy from the bus. I feel my face flush as he screams, "We are in the middle of a discussion, how can we help you?!" He looks around, confused but shrugs it off and starts to close the door, "Another ditcher, Aunt Adelaide". I hear a sigh coming from inside. Before the door can close completely, I shove my foot in the crack.
I patiently wait for the boy and his aunt to continue their conversation before attempting to squeeze through the miniscule crack I made myself. Surprisingly, I was able to get through without making the door creak, which is a major feat. Next step is to get upstairs...now, how to do that?
As I am trying to creep by the lounge, I hear snippets of the conversation. Something about a prophecy and a new kid and other junk like that. Mistakenly, as they both took a breath, I knocked over a vase full of the most beautiful hydrangeas. Both of them slowly turned towards me as I slid down to the ground, into the puddle of flower tears, defeated.