The Weeping Willow

Willow Greyback slammed the car door and looked up at the building with peeling paint, rusty windowpanes, and missing shingles. It looked about two hundred years old, and entirely unsafe.

"So?" Willow's mother, Sarah Greyback, called out cheerfully. Willow turned her grey eyes to look up into her mother's green ones with a cold sadness.

"Okay, I know it's not the best," she dropped her cheery voice to a reassuring tone, "but I got a very good deal on this. All we have to do is just fix it up a bit, and wouldn't it be fun to have a nice little mother-daughter project?"

Willow did not answer, but instead grabbed her luggage and walked slowly up the concrete steps, taking in every little detail. There were nine grimy windows, with which one she though she saw a face flash through. How cliché.

As soon as she opened the heavy oak door, it was a land of mystique and beauty. The dark floorboards looked nice and polished, there was an old-fashioned rug that ran all the way up the wide staircase directly in front of her, with gold and silky tassels hanging off the corners. To her left, there was a large room with cozy, old-looking couches, a fireplace, and the television set and stand from their old house. The game consoles and the Roku box did not seem to be set up, though.

To her right was yet another doorway, with a dark wood dining table and matching chairs, dark red place mats for six people, and two white candles setting unburned in crystal holders.

Everything was so grand, it was no wonder Willow's mother chose this house as their new home. Not only that, but they wanted to get away from the horrors of their old home as quickly as possible, so they moved to a whole different state to a quiet little town with few inhabitants.

Willow liked the idea of not many people; she liked the quiet and being alone. She most certainly wasn't the social butterfly, and some people found her rather odd. She was quite glad that they moved away, for she did not want to start high school in that horrid place; her peers were cruel and used to pick on her for being different, for not having any friends. Then, as everyone got older, they just shut her out completely and pretended she wasn't even there. She could never fit in there, because she didn't have a perfect family, she didn't have perfect best friends to have sleepovers with, she didn't have boys blowing up her cell phone trying to get dates with her. She was a broken child, with a broken family, with a broken, dark mind.

"I fixed up the inside a bit, cleaned the rugs, vacuumed the couches, added in some necessities. Pretty nice?" Sarah walked in, breaking Willow's reverie.

"It's... exquisite," her voice came out softly. She hated her voice.

Sarah smiled. "They say the high school is charming, too. I think we'll be very happy here."

And as much as Willow wanted to believe her mother, she knew deep down that she would probably never know true happiness again.