BLAIR'S POV
As we drove down the bumpy road, I woke up from my nap. I looked down at my phone and it was three o'clock. I've been sleeping for an hour or so. I kept quit for a minute so that I could hear what my parents were talking about. It was just the news, which bored me. My mom saw was awake after I groaned and moved my body a few times to get confrontable.
"How was your nap, B?" She asked when I got situated.
"Fine. How much longer do we have to be in this car?" I asked still tired.
"We'll be there any minute now." My dad answered.
We pulled up to the house and it was spectacular. The red bricks, stained glass, green grass. It was very old, you could tell. With old age comes history. This house must have a lot of history. Most don't like to think about other people living in their house before them. I find it oddly comforting.
"What do you think, Blaire?" My mom asked when we all stepped out of the car.
"It's nice, big. How could we afford it? We could barely hold down the house back in Florida and now that we move to California we can own a fancy Victorian?"
"Well the relator said the price was bumped down because of its past history."
"History?"
"I don't know we'll have to ask her about what she meant."
"Hello, my name is Marcy. Would you like to get started with the tour?" The relator said as she opened the door.
We all returned her smile and walked in with her. Marcy started to talk about the house for what seemed like forever!
"The house has four tiffany fixtures, chestnut wood floors, and stained-glass windows based on the iridescence of butterfly wings. It has five rooms and three and a half bathrooms."
"The house is spectacular, but why is the asking price so low?" My mother asked Marcy after her boring lecture.
"Well," she paused for a moment "This house has a lot of history." She really emphasized the a lot part. Me and my mom looked at one another. "Full discloser states that I have to tell you about any death on the premises in the last year. The last owners did die in the house." My mom and dad looked worried.
"How did they die?" I asked curiously.
"The wife died in childbirth right here in the living room. Her husband hung himself in his grief along the first staircase balcony. The teenage daughter took her mother's baby and ran away.
"Shit." I said amazed. My mother snapped at me and we continued the tour.
After we finished the tour, we all talked as a family about the house. I love it and my parents decide to take a change because of the size and price.
