A Home of My Own [FICTION]

Something brushed my big toe. I screamed. Emboldened by my fear, another cockroach skittered across my foot. The whirlwind activity of my big move had energized the winged creatures. They flaunted their courage even when lights blazed in every room. Their temerity reminded me why I decided to move.

My cousin Leda’s voice echoed from the empty living room. “That’s the third time you’ve screamed in five minutes. You should be used to your roaches by now.”

“I’ll never get used to them. That is why I’m moving.”

“I thought it was because you basically stole that gorgeous house.”

“The realtor said it’s a buyer’s market.” My defensive words brought back my own misgivings, but my mind’s image of the Victorian mansion with its turret and brown shutters erased them.

I held back most of my screams as I finished packing and toting the items I didn’t trust to the movers. I breathed a sigh of relief when Leda and I carried the last of the smaller boxes into the hallway. I closed the door with an aching tongue and a relieved mind.

By the time, we reached the new house, my tongue stopped hurting, but my heart raced with excitement. My cousin and I lingered outside as the movers finished the heavy lifting. I claimed a corner of the living room to survey my new surroundings and point movers in the right direction when they looked confused. Leda kept me company when she wasn’t walking from room to room with anime eyes. When the workmen finally cleared out, we hefted boxes of treasures too precious to trust with into the spacious living room.

“This hideous picture is still here?” Leda paused in front of the large canvas on the wall facing the window.

I gently placed my box of knickknacks on the floor. Turning to face the painting, I surveyed it slowly, hoping that another viewing would change my opinion. A human figure outlined in purple leapt off of a green and orange swirled background. Swirls of gold popped out at the corners, causing me to blink as they caught the light.

“As the new owner, I declare this monstrosity retired.” I announced elegantly and stepped forward to lift the painting from the wall.

Surprised by the weight of the antique frame, I stumbled. The painting fell from my hands and slammed into the floor. I reached out to catch myself and found my hands resting against the bare studs inside the wall. The painting hid a ragged hole big enough for me to hide inside. As I leaned against the studs, I realized I may not have been the first to make that observation.

A desiccated corpse grinned gruesomely up at me. My eyes locked on empty eye sockets. A gargle escaped my throat. Leda stepped forward and grabbed my elbow.

“Did you bring a cockroach with you?” Her soft giggle subsided as she peered over my shoulder.

“No.” I whispered through clenched teeth.

She leaned back, and I pushed myself away from the wall. We turned slowly, each waiting for the other to speak.

“I think I know why I got such a great deal.” I said.

Leda nodded. “So what should we do?”

“Call the cops?”

“And move back into your old apartment?”

I paused to consider her words. “Oh no…”

“Oh yes. If this place becomes a crime scene…”

We gazed at each other in silence. I stepped forward to peer into the hole again. As I leaned over to admit light, I noticed a folded sheet of paper between two fingers of the right hand. Without thinking, I snatched it. The yellowed paper rustled in my hand as I opened it. Then it dissolved into dust.

“That won’t help us much.” Leda said.

“I guess not.” I frowned.

“What do you think happened?”

“I don’t know. The person I bought the house from was about our age, so I don’t think they killed…” I paused to survey the remnants of lace around the body’s neck. “Her.”

“Probably inherited the problem.” Leda offered a shadowy attempt at a smile.

“Maybe they didn’t know?”

Leda laughed.

“Okay. For the price I paid, they had to know.”

“We could do research?”

“Or we could just cover up the hole and forget we saw anything.”

Leda shook her head.

I sighed. “I guess we’ll let the cops figure it out?”

Leda shook her head again. “I just think we shouldn’t live with someone else’s mistake.”

“What are you thinking?” I looked at her intently.

“We could easily fit our friend into one of your larger moving boxes.”

“And have the movers come and get it?” I started to laugh nervously.

“Of course not. The two of us should be able to heft it. We can just take it to the dump.”

“But…” All my moral concerns failed to flood from my lips.

Thus, I found myself at the dump with my cousin, pushing a heavy box down into a gaping hole in the ground. We brushed our hands against our chests with a shiver as the box tumbled away from us into the trash chasm. We turned slowly toward the car, maintaining our silence until the gates of the dump completely disappeared in my rearview mirror.

I tried to forget what I had done, but the wizened corpse haunted me in my dreams. I settled into my house, but I felt the woman watching me from every corner. She held more sway in the living room. Leda helped me replace the battered wall with fresh drywall and cover the whole room in a bright golden hue, but darkness seemed to creep out of the corners. When Leda visited, she insisted we spend time in the kitchen at the back of the house or poking around in the drafty attic.

Our efforts to transform that space into a cozy game room finally brought me peace. As we poked through the last pile of crumbling papers and dusty books, my hand rested on a leather-bound volume with half the pages ripped out. Spidery, antiquated handwriting covered the first couple of remaining pages. I tossed it into the top of the rubbish bin. Leda scooped it up with a laugh.

“Don’t be rude. It looks like the house left you its journal. You should at least see what she had to tell you.”

I shivered, rolled my eyes, and went back to scanning the last few pages on the nearest shelf. Assured that they didn’t hold vital information, I threw them away. As I opened my mouth to proudly declare the job done, Leda gasped.

I looked up at her. “What is it?”

“Listen to this,” she held the book up and began reading.

“I have torn out most of my dark thoughts. You can’t have them any more than you can have my house. I will be here forever. No one will make a home here. I shall take my poison and hide myself within its heart. If they don’t find me, my spirit shall linger on and haunt this place. If they do find me, they will never be able to live in a place with such a horrific past.”

I stared at her and a burden seemed to rise from me, taking the darkness with it.

***

In honor of the season, I thought this needed to see the light of day.

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[FICTION] Grandma's Greatest Gift

I bury my head in my lap, cupping my hands loosely over my ears to muffle the shrill voices that wash over me.

“Grandma loved me the best. I should get it.” My cousin Stacie’s sharp voice cuts through the thin layers of flesh, bone, and tendon curled around my ears.

“You’re delusional. I’m her favorite.” My sister Kirsten’s equally sharp voice grates on my nerves enough to make me leap from my perch on the edge of the bed.

The movement turns both sets of sharp, greedy eyes to me. I freeze, realizing my mistake as they exchange looks and turn back to me grinning.

“We’ll let Bella decide.” Kirsten offers, stepping toward me.

I shake my head and slide along the edge of the bed toward the door.

“That’s a great idea.” Stacie blocks my egress.

I glance back at the bed, which rests against the wall. No exit there. I sigh and cross my arms, sinking back onto the soft mattress.

“I’m not involved in this. Our mom’s can sort it out.”

“No way!” They exclaim as one.

I sigh again. “Why should I decide?”

The girls glance toward the locked jewelry box that holds the object of their desire, an antique gold chain from which dangles a ball formed of tiny diamonds set in a golden framework.

“Because we all know you don’t want it.”

I frown and stand up. “Why not?”

“Well, you’re not exactly a girl.” Kirsten says and they both snicker.

My lips form a tight line as I push my way through the weak wall of shrill, selfish girls. “I’m going to talk to mom about it.” I fire over my shoulder as I step into the hall.

“Oh come on, Bella.” Kirsten tries to take my arm, offering me a conspiratorial smile.

I shake off her slender fingers. “No. I don’t want to hear it.” I pick up speed as I reach the door. The other girls continue to plead with me as I bound down the steps.

“Girls, stop that. This instant!” My mother and aunt Flora round the corner of the stairwell, glaring up at me.

“Bella, I should have known.” Flora’s thin lips sneer as she glares up at me and shakes her head.

I slow down, taking composed, calculated strides to the bottom of the stairs as my sister and cousin push each other toward the top of the stairwell. Seeing our mothers observing them from below, they step away from each other and hurriedly smooth black skirts with boney hands. They smile angelically and slowly join me. We patiently wait while our mothers survey us, struggling to keep from twitching with the excitement and frustration coursing through us.

My mother is the first to break the silence. “What is this all about?”

“Grandma’s diamond globe necklace.” I blurt out.

Sharp fingers stab into my back on both sides. I glance at my sister who narrows her eyes at me. Her nose flares with suppressed annoyance. I don’t bother to glance at Stacie. I’m sure her face reflects my sister’s unkind emotions.

My mother and aunt exchange looks. My aunt nods as if agreeing with a question asked during their locked gaze. My mother turns her attention back to us, clearing her throat. “Your aunt and I have decided that Kirsten, as the oldest, will get that necklace. We have also already decided who gets each piece of jewelry, so stop fighting.”

My aunt nods agreement, surveying us one more time. “Now go find something constructive to do. There is plenty to clean.”

As they turn away, Stacie gives me a hard jab in the stomach with her elbow. Kirsten pats me on the back.

“Thanks, sis.”

I frown and turn away, making a beeline for the back door. As the door closes behind me, I take in a deep breath and glance over my shoulder. My cousin and sister have disappeared, searching for something else to argue over. Assured that I am alone, I slowly lower myself to the cold concrete stair and let the tears I’ve been holding back cascade over my cheeks.

*

I’m back in my grandmother’s house. She’s not really dead. She can’t be. The rich sweetness of cinnamon crumble coffee cake turns the air to sweet bliss. Only my grandmother knew how to make that particular ambrosia. I inhale again and step forward to offer her a hug. She turns toward me and puts up her hands. Blood runs down them, dripping on the floor.

I scream and turn away.

“Don’t worry. You can help me clean it up.” Her voice cracks bust her smile remains as gentle and sweet as ever.

She reaches for me. Even before she touches me, streaks of blood spread across my skin. I stare down at them as my flesh seems to melt away, revealing black ooze undulating along my bones. As unbearable pain sinks into the core of my being, I scream. My grandmother laughs and I scream again. Her laughter turns to a cackle and I look up to see the same viscous darkness consuming her features.

I scream again. Silently.

*

I sit up and open my eyes. One hand reaches up to touch my moist cheek, but I keep the other where I can see that pale flesh still stretches gently to cover bone, sinew, and muscle. After a few seconds, I lower both hands. I take a few deep breaths as my eyes adjust to the gentle glow coming through the thin curtains of my bedroom.

“You’re alone. Everything is okay.” I whisper softly.

I open my eyes wider, filling them with the reassuring images of my room. “It was just a dream.”

“Yes. It was.” My grandmother’s voice reassures me and I swear my heart stops beating.

I close my eyes and open them again, turning toward the voice. Standing at the side of my bed, my grandmother smiles down at me.

“You’re not real.” I tell her.

“Of course, I am.” She continues to smile.

“That can’t be.”

She nods slowly, understandingly. “It can only be because I need your help.”

“My help?” My jaw tightens as I force out the words.

“The globe necklace that you girls all loved so much has to go to my best friend. She’ll know why.”

“But my mother said…”

“I know who has it, but she shouldn’t have it. It was meant for Jeannie.

“If Jeannie doesn’t get that necklace, I can’t pass over. I’ll have to be with you forever, for everything you ever do.” She smiles that all-knowing smile that could turn even the most hardened criminal to moldable clay.

I nod my head. “I’ll do my best.”

“Her name is Jeannie Lemmin.”

I nod again but can’t find the strength to speak again.

“Thank you.” She disappears.

I continue to watch the place where she stood as I slowly lower myself to the pillow. I think sleep will elude me after that, but I wake up to find my mother shaking me roughly.

“Bella, what is wrong with you? Wake up.”

“What?” I ask groggily.

“It’s almost noon. Why are you still in bed.”

I force my eyes open and find her worried face inches from my own. A million thoughts dance through my head. Should I tell her? My heart leaps inside me, overladen with the loss of my grandmother and last night’s dreams. I decide to tell her if only to hear her tell me that it was just a dream.

“Mom, did grandma ever talk about someone named Jeannie Lemmin?”

My mother freezes. Her nails dig into my arms. She scans my face questioningly.

“Where did you hear that name?”

“From Grandma…”

“She would never tell you about Jeannie. She only told me about her once.”

As my mother pauses, I ask. “Who is she?”

“She used to be your grandmother’s best friend.” My mother whispers as she loosens her grip on my arms and settles back on the foot of my bed.

I slowly push myself into a sitting position. I lean toward my mother and whisper. “Then why have I never heard of her?”

My mother purses her lips. “They had a falling out about the man your grandmother loved before your grandfather.”

“Oh.” My breath rushes out of me. Maybe, I hadn’t really known my grandmother.

My mother nods as if agreeing with my thoughts. “Even after your grandmother and grandfather were married, she never spoke to Jeannie again. I think Jeannie must have tried once. That’s when I hear about it, but why are you asking about her?”

I tried to explain. The more I spoke, the paler my mother’s face got. When I ran out of words, we sat in silence.

Finally, my mother took my hand. “I’ll handle your sister, but you’ll have to go alone to speak to Jeannie.”

I nodded my assent, not daring to speak for fear of releasing the tears I saw pooling in my mother’s eyes.

*

“Jeannie Lemmin?”

She smiles at me. “That’s me, dear.” She places a finger gently to her lips as she contemplates my face. “Have we met? You do look familiar.”

“No, ma’am. We’ve never met.” My voice gets soft. “You knew my grandmother, Dotty Lynch.”

The smile fades from her face as she looks at me more closely. She doesn’t speak. She slowly lowers her hand and clutches it tightly with the other as we stand in silence.

I clear my throat and reach into my pocket. “She wanted you to have this.”

She slowly raises her hand and I lower the globe gently, watching the chain gently coil into her wrinkled palms as she gazes down at it.

“She forgave me.” Tears flood her cheeks, sending rivers down the deep laughter lines along her thin cheeks. “She really forgave me?”

I shrug. “She said you would understand.”

She nods, tears pouring more profusely down her cheeks. “I do. I do. Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.” As the words leave my lips, warmth suffuses my body.

My grandmother’s voice seems to echo her friend. I look around expecting to see her, but I stand alone on the porch.

Jeannie smiles at me. “Would you like to come in?”

I shake my head but my feet lead me forward into the cozy living room.

“Let me tell you about your grandmother when she was young. You have her eyes…”

Secrets of the Boss 12

Start Here

Part 2

Part 3

Part 4

Part 5

Part 6

Part 7

Part 8

Part 9

Part 10

Part 11

“Hey, Pole. Let’s grab something to eat.”

“Well…” Officer Polsen’s eyes meet mine in the rearview mirror.

“I’m sure Miss Holden would like something.” Officer Wason continues.

I nod my head and Officer Polsen inclines his head. “I guess it will be okay.”

“I love that place.” Officer Wason points at a restaurant nestled between a vacuum repair shop and a stationery store.

Faded lettering names the place Nonni’s. As we enter through a heavy wooden door, a tiny waitress with greying hair motions for us to seat ourselves. We take seats in the corner beside the door to the kitchen. We listen to dishes clattering and a man barking out orders in an accented voice until our food arrives. The fragrant scent of fresh herbs and slow-roasted tomato sauce loosens our tongues.

“We talked to the men who own the batting cages, but none of them fits your description of the man who…” Officer Polsen focuses on the fading bruises that add color to my face.

“He could be a silent partner.” Officer Wason suggests.

I shrug. “So how do we find him?”

Both officers gaze at me in silence. To hide their lack of response, they fill their mouths with pasta. As they slowly chew, they make eye contact and Officer Polsen nods at his partner. He turns to me and offers me a reassuring smile as he swallows hard.

“If we don’t find him soon, you’ll be moved to a safe house.”

“You’ve been guarding my place for a couple of days and…” I protest.

“Nothing has happened?” Officer Wason puts down his fork and leans toward me. “But we’d feel more comfortable protecting you in a place with less activity.”

“I suppose.” My voice trails off.

We fill the ensuing silence with crunching and chewing. I poke at an immense meatball, pushing it around my plate half-heartedly as my appetite subsides. At first, I intently watch the trail of sauce that follows the meatball around my plate. Eventually, I notice a blue glow growing near our table.  My eyes move upward slowly.

“Look.” Larry says.

I freeze except for my eyes. They follow the trail of Larry’s glowing finger. Looking over Officer Wason’s shoulder, I see a familiar face. His dark hair and orange skin looks more natural under the soft glow of the overhead lights.

From this distance, I can’t hear any of the words flowing from his lips, but I can tell by his grand hand gestures that front of him failed him in some way. As his tirade draws to a close, his eyes find their way to me. His hands stop in midair, slowly sinking to his side as his mouth opens again.

“That’s him.” I choke on the words.

The officers turn as one, standing to shield me as they draw their guns. With a harsh word from the boss, the man at his side reaches for his firearm. He glances worriedly from his boss to my protectors.

“Don’t try it.” Officer Wason warns as he takes a step forward.

The first gunshot deafens the room. I fall to the floor, covering my ears with my hands.

*

I lose track of time. Despite the ringing filling my ears, I begin to hear voices again. I can’t distinguish the words of the boss and his associate, but those closer to me add their music to the din that deafens me.

“Get up.” Officer Wason hisses at me.

I stand slowly, stepping toward him numbly.

“Get her out of here.” Officer Wason pushes me into Officer Polsen’s arms.

He wraps them around me protectively, shielding me with his body as more gunshots shatter my ability to hear. I move with him as he pushes me toward the kitchen door. Warm breath caresses my neck as we push through the door. The clatter of washing dishes and preparing food continues despite the activity in the dining area. No one even glances in our direction as Officer Polsen ushers me through the back door.

As the door slowly closes behind us, Officer Polsen pushes me against the wall to survey the kitchen. More gunshots erupt. Then only kitchen sounds greet our straining ears. Officer Polsen turns the knob attached to the speaker on his shoulder. I hold my breath as we listen for any sound to give us closure.

“He’s down.” Static almost obscures the whispered voice.

 As Officer Polsen looks back to me, he reaches out to touch my face. His fingertips make me aware of the sticky liquid on my cheek. I reach up until the tips of my fingers touch his, pulling them away to look at the rich red blood that stains them.

“Where did they hit you?” As he leans in to gently brush the hair back from my face, I see a red slash across his cheek.

“I think it’s you.” I point, letting my finger linger less than an inch from his face.

He raises his free hand to touch his own cheek. “You’re right. Nothing to worry about.”

A burst of static stifles my words as Officer Wason’s voice crackles from the speaker. “Is she okay to make a positive I.D.?”

I nod my head and Officer Polsen relays my assent. As we pass through the kitchen, the silence strikes me. A cluster of kitchen staffers watches us warily from their post in front of the freezer. I follow Officer Polsen with slow shuffling steps. As the door swings open, I focus on the windows. Jagged shards of glass hang from most of the frames.

I keep walking forward until Officer Wason holds up a hand to stop me. “I’m sorry to ask this, but could you look down just long enough to tell us if you recognize this man.”

As I look down at what is left of the man’s head, my stomach heaves. My heart, however, feels calm again. Larry’s ghostly image smiles at me and fades into nothingness. Officer Polsen puts his hand on my arm.

“Are you okay?”

With relief, my eyes lift to his face. “That’s him. I’ll be okay.”

“We need you to answer a few questions and then we’ll take you home. Okay?”

I nod and turn away as someone throws a tablecloth over the boss’s face, covering it as completely as he once covered his secrets.

~~~

Was this thrilling conclusion satisfying? Did I answer your questions? What do you think?

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