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|Axe Me for the Truth - part 1 (standard:Ghost stories, 4598 words)|
|Author: kissofthehungry||Added: May 02 2009||Views/Reads: 1922/1164||Story 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 Click here to read the rest of this story (401 more lines)
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