Dollhouse ~ Ghostbird Fanfic

1• Dark Suburbia

•A•
Kota

Nathan and I watch the moving van stop in front of the house across the street that's been empty since I was a kid. Dark grey with black shutters, the house has been victim to many local superstitions and vandalizing teens over the years.

It's sits on the corner of Sunnyvale Street and Rosemund Avenue. Rosemund Avenue was suppose to be an extension of the Sunnyvale Subdivision that creates a loop off of the main road we both lived on and circles back at the end of our street. However, after that particular house was completed and a family of five moved in, the construction for our entire neighborhood abruptly stopped.

The father came home one day, only two months after they moved in, and brutally massacred his wife and three children. He then proceeded to stab himself in the carotid. That tragic event severely impacted the sale value of our neighborhood. No one wants to live here anymore. Now 666 Rosemund Avenue sits alone in disrepair.

"I can't believe someone is actually moving into that place.", Nathan mutters from beside me. I couldn't help but silently agree. My eyes narrow in calculation at the derelict home as I adjust my glasses higher on my nose with my pointer finger.

Years of tall tales about demonic creatures lying within its walls has given it a stigma the realtors couldn't seem to erase no matter how hard they tried. No one wanted to live in the same house the Child Eater or the Mad Clown of Sunnyvale originated. Both are common stories whispered from child to child all over the city.

Teens have dared each other to enter and vandalize the house in hopes to anger the Child Eater and walk away to brag to all their peers. Rotten black shingles dangle from the roof. Dark grey siding warps as it pleases. The front steps leading up to the long front porch teeter from one side to the other precariously. The yard is horrendously overgrown and yellowing from the winter air. A hole is in the front kitchen window where a baseball went through it years ago.

"Yeah.", I simply say, watching the brand new black car pull in behind the moving van. The tint is dark, but they can still make out the three people within.

First exits the driver. A black heeled foot steps onto the pavement revealing a middle aged woman of exquisite beauty. Thin and of average height, she's quite stunning. Her skin is snow white, her black as night hair in a lovely intricate hairdo, and her face is elegant and refined. Her eyes though are dead and lifeless as they take in the scenery around. The dark green irises, the color of emeralds, hold no emotion or light.

Next steps out a tall lanky boy a few years older than us from the passenger seat. He slumps severely with both hands in his pockets. Ragged jeans that are nearly falling off his behind, a baggy black sweatshirt with a pentagram, and black converse covers him almost entirely. His black emo hair hides his eyes from them, but there are other tells we can analyze.

I notice how his lips stay slightly parted, snake bite piercings glinting in the overcast light of winter noon. It's almost as if he's in a stupor, barely more alive than the woman I assume is his mother.

The two of them head towards the front door, ignoring entirely the two men in the van awaiting orders. They go inside the black door and there they remain.

No lights turn on. No shadows walk past the windows. It's absolutely still once they enter.

The third silhouette remains seated in the back seat, staring over at my house curiously. I can barely make out much of her from in there, but I can tell she's similar to the first woman in size and coloring.