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Axe Me for the Truth - part 1 (standard:Ghost stories, 4598 words)
Author: kissofthehungryAdded: May 02 2009Views/Reads: 2712/1755Story vote: 0.00 (0 votes)
When Jenna moves with her mom and brother to a near perfect neighborhood, she's frightened by the Stepford qualities. It never dawns on her that it's what inside the house, waiting for her, that she should fear.

It was a house like any other house.  The neighborhood was quiet, one of
those residential areas that everyone wants in due to it's historical 
status or watnot that makes it worth like 600 billion dollars.  My 
mother was as pleased as one could be that she had figured out how to 
make ends meet enough to afford it.  I didn't care, it meant we were 
severing the final ties between our old life and our new one, and it 
made me sad. 

My mother and father had recently split up after my mom caught my dad in
bed with the neighbor's daughter.  Sounds worse than it was.  She was 
after all ten years older than me and I'm almost legal now but 
nonetheless, it was an affair.  Wait, I stand corrected.  It was the 
affair, the affair that ended it all, the first of his many that she 
absolutely refused to tolerate.  It was his final affair. 

Now, don't get me wrong, I love my father and think he has his good
points but when she decided that enough was enough, I was grateful.  
All the screaming and bickering, it tended to take it's toll on one's 
patience.  The first affair, at least the first one he got busted with, 
happened ten years ago when I was seven.  I remember my mother finding 
the lipstick on his pants.  She just sat down in the dining chair, her 
face blank and numb.  When he came home, I thought my ears were going 
to bleed from all the screaming. 

My mom went back to work after that affair.  She was a legal secretary
and made a decent chunk of cash.  She didn't say it but we all knew 
that the reason she was working was so that she could leave my dad.  
The problem wasn't that she didn't have the capability to leave him, it 
was that she didn't have the willpower.  Despite his many flaws, she 
loved my father and couldn't bare the thought of leaving him, even if 
it meant putting up with his many floozies. 

His last affair though, he had touched home.  It was more than she could
stand and she couldn't handle the way the neighbors looked at us, how 
they knew our family's dirty secret.  So, without really consulting 
myself or my brother, Jackson, she just decided we were moving.  And 
when she decided we were moving, it wasn't just a small neighborhood 
switch but still go to the same school, it was a pick up your roots 
cause we're done with this turf.  It was devastating. 

My best friend, Monica, cried hysterically when she found out and that
of course made me cry hysterically. I don't really cry, I don't like 
feeling that weak but her tears just unleashed all the anger and 
sadness I felt over everything.  I was going to break it off with my 
boyfriend, Evan, but he insisted we could try the whole two hour drive 
thing.  I've never been a fan of long distance relationships and yeah, 
it's only two hours, but it'll get old fast.  I hope we have the 
endurance to make it but I don't know.  I don't have a lot of faith in 
us lasting.  I just don't have the nerve to tell Evan that, yet. 

Anyways, back to the blasted house that my mom found and fell in love
with.  I could certainly see the curb appeal.  It's a cute two story, 
painted dollhouse yellow with white shutters and trim.  The yard's 
trimmed, there's blooming flowerboxes lining the yard against the house 
and a great big tree that looks ageless and perfect for a tree house.  
The neighborhood itself is full of similar houses, each one beautiful 
and unique but so perfect that it almost seems a bit Stepford-y to me. 

“What do you think?” my mom gushed as she pulled up in front of our new
home.  She already knew what I thought.  I had told her a thousand 
times since she had first shown us the house that it was cute.  I 
always left off the part about how I didn't want to move, she knew it 
without saying and it didn't make a difference.  There was no point in 
beating the dead horse, at least that's what I thought. 

Jackson grunted, “I still say it's way too yellow.”  He didn't like the
yellow.  Although I agreed with him that it was too yellow, I kind of 
liked it.  It was sunny and well, dollhouse like.  I could handle the 
yellow.  I just couldn't handle the end of my life. 

“Oh Jackson,” my mother practically giggled, “If it were any other
color, you'd say it was too red or green or blue or white or whatever 
shade.  You'll get used to it.  What do you think Jenna?” 

I stared at the house, blinking back the tears that burned my eyes.  I

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