Sometimes I have very dark thoughts about my mother hots nosain daughters should ever have. Sometimes I am not always sane.
"Freya, you are being reticulus." Mom says through the speaker on my phone.
I clear at it in response refusing to argue with her. When I have nothing to say see sighs loudly. I wrinkle my nose, it blows my mind that this woman always called Nana dramatic yet can't see her own flair for the dramatics.
"Just because your grandparents give you the house doesn't mean you have to actually live in it. It's old and would be doing everyone in that is city a fayon if it were tom down."
I think my head against the head rest rolling my eyes upward and trying to find patience waved into the stain roof of my car.
How did I manage to get ketchup there?
"And just because you don't like it, doesn't mean I can't live in it," I retort dryly .
My mother is a bitch. Plane and simple.
She has always had a chip on her shoulder, and for the life of me, I can't figure out why.
"You will be living and our from us! That will be incredibly inconvenient for you to come visit us won't it?"
Oh, how will I ever survive?
Pretty sure my gynecologist is an hour away , too, but I still make an offer to see her once a year. And those visits are far more painful.
"Nope "I reply, popping the p. I am over this conversation. My patience only last and entire 60 seconds talking to my mother. After that, I am running on fumes and have no desire to put in any more effort to keep the conversation moving along.
If it's not one thing, it's the other. She always manages to find something to complain about. This time it's my choice to live in the house my grandparents give to me. I grew up in Parsons Manor, running alongside the ghost in the hall and baking cookies with Nana. I have fond memories here- memories I refuse to let go off just because Mom didn't get along with nana.
I never understood the tension between them, but as I got older and started to comprehend moms snarkiness and underhended insults for what they were , it made sense.
Nana always had a positive, Sunny outlook on life, viewing the word through Rose coloured glasses. She was always smiling and humming, while mom is cursed with a perpetual scoul on her face and looking at life like her glasses got smashed when she was plunged out of nana's vagina. I don't know why her personality never developed past that of a porcupine-she was never raised to be pretty bitch.
Growing up my mom and dad had a house only a mile awayfrom parsons manor. She could be really tolerate me, so I spent most of my childhood in this house. It wasn't until I left for college that mom moved out of town and hour away. When I quit college, I moved in with har until I got back on my feet and my writing career took off.
And when it did, I decided to travel around the country never really settling in one place.
Nana died about a year ago, gifting me the house in her will, but my grief hindered me from moving into parsons manor. Until now.
Mom sighs again through the phone."I just wish you had more ambition in life instead of staying in the town you grew up in, sweetie. Do something more with your life then waste away in that house like your grandmother do. I don't want you to become worthless like her."
A snarl over takes my face throughout my chest."hey mom?"
"Yes?"
"Fuck off."
I hang up the phone, angrily smashing my fingers into the screen until I hear the telltale chime that the call has ended.
How did she speak of her own mother that way when she was nothing but loved and cherished? Nana certainly didn't treat her the way she treats me, that's for damm sure.
I rape a page from mom's book and let loose a melodramatic sigh turning to look out my side window. Said house stand stall the tip of the black roof sparring through the gloomy clouds and roaming over the vastly would it area as if two say you shall fear me. Pearing over my shoulder, the dense thicket of trees are no more inviting- dear shadows crawling from the over growth with out stressed claws.
I Shiva, delighting in the ominous feeling radiating from this small portion of the cliff. It looks exactly as it did from my childhood and it gives me no less of a thrill too peer into The infinite blackness.
Parsons Manor is stationed on a cliffside over looking the bay with a mile trees separates this house from the rest of the word, making you feel like you are well and truly alone.
Sometimes, it feels like you are on an entirely different planet ostracized from civilization. The whole area has a menacing sorrowful Aura.
And I fucking love it.
The house has begun to decay but it can be fixed up to look like a new again with the bit of TLC. 100 of vines crawl up all sides of the structure climbing towards the gargoyles station on the roof on either side of the Manor. The black siding is feeding to a grey and starting to peel away and the black paint around the windows is chipping like cheap nail polish. I will have to hire someone to give the large front porch a facelift since it's starting to sag on one side.
The lawn is long over due for a haircut, the blades of grass nearly as tall as me, and the three acres of clearing bursting with weeds. I bet plenty of snakes have settled in nicely since it's last been mowed.
Nana used to offset the mainers dark shade with blooms of colourful flowers during the spring season.Hyacinths,primroses, violas, and rhododendron.
And in autumn, sunflowers would be crawling up the sides of the house, the bright yellows and oranges in the petals a beautiful contrast against the black siding.
I can plant a garden around the front of the house again when the season calls for it. This time I will plant strawberries letus and herbs as well. I am deep in my music when my eyes snag on movement from above.
Curtains flutter in The lone window at the very top of the house.
The attic.
Last time I checked, there is no central air up there. Nothing should be able to move those curtains but yet I don't doubt what I saw.
Couple with the looming storm in the background, Parsons manor looks like a scene out of a horror film. I suck my bottom lip between my teeth, unable to stop the smile from farming on my face.
I love that.
I can't explain why but I do.
Fuck what my mother says. I am living here. I am a successful writer and have the freedom to live anywhere. So, what if I decide to live in a place that means a lot to me? That doesn't make me are low life for stain in my hometown. I trouble enough with Book stores and conferences settling down in a house want change that. I know what the fuck I want, and I don't give a shit what anyone else things about it.
Especially mummy dearest.
The clouds yawn, and rain stills from their mouths. I grab my purse and step out of my car inhaling the scent of fresh rain. It turns from a light sprinkle to our torrential downpour in a matter of seconds. I Bolt up the front porch steps flinging drops of water off my arms and shaking my body out like a wet dogs.
I love storms - I just don't like to be in them. I would preferred to cuddle up under the blankets with a mug of t and a book while listening to the rainfall.
I slide the key into the lock and turn it. But it's stuck, refusing to give me even a millimetre. I jimmy the key, wrestling with it until the mechanism finally turns and I am able to unlock the door.
Guess I am gonna have to fix that soon, too.
Actually draft welcomes me as I open the door. I sure from the mixture of freezing rain still wet on my skin and the cold stay here. The interior of the house is cast in shadows. Dim light science through the windows gradually fading as the sun disappears behind grey storm clouds.
I feel as if I should start my story with "it was a dark stormy night..."
I look up and smile when I see the black ribbed ceiling, made up of hundreds of thin, long pieces of wood. A grand chandelier is hanging over my head golden Steel worked in entricate design with crystals dangling from the tips.
It's always be nana's most priced profession.
The black and white checkred floors lead directly to the black Grand staircase-large enough to fit a piano throw sideways and flow of into the living room. My boots squeak against the tiles as I venture further inside.
This floor is primarily an open concept making it feel like the monstrosity
Of the home could swallow you whole.
The living area is to the left of the staircase. I purse my lips and look around, nostalgia heating me straight in the gut. Dust coats every surface, and the smell of mothballs is over powering, but it looks exactly how I last so it right before Nana died last year.
A large black stone fire place is in the centre of the living room on the far left wall with red velvet couches squared around it. An ornate wooden coffee table sets in the middle and empty was a top the dark wood. Nana used to fill it with lilies but now it only collects dust and bug carcasses.
The walls are covered in Black pastly wallpaper of set by heavy golden curtains. One of my favourite parts is the large bay window at the front of the house, providing a beautiful view of the forest beyond Parsons Manor. Placed right in front of it is a red velvet rocking chair with a matching stool. Nana used to sit there and watch the rain and she said her mother would always do the same.
The checker tying extends into the kitchen with beautiful black stained cabinets and marble countertops. A message Island seats in the middle with black barstoles lining one side. Grandpa and I used to sit there and watch Nana cook, and join her humming to herself as she whipped up delicious meals.
Shaking away the memories over 2 are tall lamp by the rocking chair and flip on the light. I release a shy of relief when a battery soft blow emits from the bulb. A few days ago, I had called to get the utility is turned on in my name, but you can never be to sure when dealing with an old house.
Then I walk over to the thermostat, the large causing and other shiver to drag my body.
62 God damn degrees I press my thumb into the up Arrow and don't stop until the temperature is set to 74. I don't mind cooler temperature but I would prefer it if my nipples did not cut throw all of my clothing.
I turn back around and face our home that's both old and a new-a home that's house my heart since I could remember, even if my body left for a little while and then I smile basking in the Gothic glory of Parsons mayor it's how my great grand parents decorated the house, and the taste has passed down throw the generations. Nana used to say that she liked it best when she was the brightest thing in the room. That she stills had old peoples taste. I mean, really, why do those white throw pillows have a border of lays around them and a weird, embroidered bouquet of flowers in the middle? That's not cute. That's ugly.
I Sigh.
"Well nanacomma I came back. Just like you wanted," I whisper to the dead air.
Are you ready? My personal assistant ask from beside me. I clean over at Marrieta. Noting how she is absently holding out the mic to me, her attention ensnared on the people still filtering into the small building. This local book store wasn't built for a large number of people but somehow they are making it work anyway.
Hordes of people are feeling into the cramped space, converging Anna uniform line and waiting for the signing to start my eyes rove over the crowd, silently counting in my head. I lose count after 30.
"Yep,"I say. I grab the mic, and after catching everyone's attention the murmurs fade to silence. Doesn't of iBall bore into me, creating a flush all the way to my cheeks full stop it makes my skin scroll but I love my reader so I power through it.
"Before we start, I just wanted to take a quick second to thank you all for coming. I appreciate each and everyone of you, and I am incredibly excited to meet you all. Everyone ready?"I ask, forcing excitement into my tones.
It's not that I am not excited, I just tend to get incredibly awkward during book signings. I am not a natural when it comes to social interactions. I am the type to stare dead into your face with a frozen smile after being asked a question while my brain processes the fact that I didn't even hear the question. It's usually because my heart is thumping to loud in my ears. I settle down in my chair and ready my sharpie.Marietta runs of two handle other matters shooting me a quick good luck. See is witnessed my mishapd with
It's one of the downfalls of representing are social Pariah.
Come back, Marrieta. It's so much more fun when I am not the only one getting embarrassed.
The first reader approaches me, my book The wanderer, in her hands with a beaming smile on her crackled face.
"Oh my God, it's so awesome to meet you!"C explain nearly shoving the book in my face. Totally a me move .
I smile white and gently take the book. "It's awesome to meet you, too,"."and he team freckles. I take on, weighing my four finger between her face and mine. She gives a bit of an awkward law of, her fingers drifting over my cheeks. What's your name? I rest out before we get struck on a weird conversation about skin conditions.
Geez, Freya, what if she hits her freckles. Dumbass.
"Megan,"se reply, and then space the name out for me. My hand tremble as I carefully right out her name and a quick appreciation note. My signature is sloppy, but that pretty much represents the entirety of my existence. I had the book back and thank her with a genuine smile. As the next reader approaches, pressure settles on my face. Someone is staring at me but that's a fucking stupid thought because everyone is steering at me. I try to ignore it, and give the next reader a big as smile but the feeling only intensifies until it feels like bees are buzzing beneath the surface of my skin while a torch is being held to my flash. It's... It's unlike anything I have felt before. The hair on the back of my neck rise and I feel the apples of my cheeks heating to a bright red.
Half of my attention is on the book I am signing and The gushing reader while the other half is on the crowd. My eyes subtly sweep the expense of the book store, attempting to scope out the source of my discomfort without making it obvious.
My gaze hooks on a loan person standing in the very back. A man. The crowd shrouds the majority of his body, only bits of his face speaking through the gaps between peoples heads. But what I do see has my hand stelling, mid write.
His eyes. One so dark and bottomless, it feels like steering into a well. And the other and ice blue solite its nearly white, reminding me of a husky's ice. I scard slashes Street down throw the discolored I, as if it didn't already demand attention. When a throat clears I jump, snatching my eyes away and looking back to the book. My sharpie has been resting in the same spot, creating a big black ink dot.
"Sorry,"I Mata finishing of my signature. I reach over and snack a bookmark, sign that two and Tak it in the book as an apology.
The reader beans at me, mistake already forgotten, and scurries off with her book. When I look back to find the man, he is gone.
"Freya you need to get laid."
In response, I wrap my lips around my straw and slurp my blueberry martini HD as my mouth will allow. Daya my best friend comma eyes me entirely UN impressed and impatient based on the quirk of her brow.
I think I need a bigger mouth. More alcohol would fit in it.
I don't say this out loud because I can bet my left as cheek that her follow up response would be to use it for a bigger dick instead.
When I continuous sucking on the straw se reaches over and drips the plastic from my lips. I have reached the bottom of the glass a solid 15 second ago and has just been sucking air through the straw it's the most action my mouth has gotten in a year now.
"Whoa personal space" I mumble settling the glass down. I avoid the day's eyes, searching the restaurant for the waitress so I can order another Martini full stop the faster I have the extra in my mouth again the Sonar I can avoid this conversation some more.
"Don't deflect, bitch. You suck at it."
Our eyes meet, a bit passes, and we both burst into laughter.
" I suck at getting laid, too, apparently,"I say after our laughing calms.
Daya gives me a droll look."you have had plenty of a personalities. You just don't take them. You are a hot 26 year old woman with freckles upgrade pair of tips and an ass ti die for. The man are out here waiting."
I shrug comma deflecting again. Daya isn't exactly wrong at least about having options. I am just not interested in any of them. Dev all bore me. All I get is what are you wearing and wanna come over, Rinky face at one o'clock in the morning. I am wearing the same sweat pants I have been wearing the past week there is a mysterious stain on my crotch, and no, I don't want to fucking come over.
Sea Philips out and expectant hand. "Give me your phone." My eyes wideen. "Fuck,no."
"Freya. Give me. Your. Fucking. Phone."
"Or what?"I taunt.
"Or I will throw myself across the table, embarrass the absolute sheet out of you, and get my way anyways."
My eyes finally catch on our waitress and I flag her down. Desperately. Sri rasis over, probably thinking I found a hair in my food, when really my best friend just has one up her ass right now.
I procrastinate a little bit longer , asking the waitress what drink see preface. I would look through the drink menu a second time if it were not road to keep her waiting when she has other tables. So alas, I pick a strawberry Martini in favour of the green apple, and the waiters rushes off again.
Sigh.
I hand the phone over, slapping it in Daya's still outstressed hand extra firm because I hate her. See smiles triumphantly and starts typing away the mysterious glamour in her eye growing brighter. Her thumbs go into turbo speed causing the golden ring wrapped around them to nearly blur.
Har Sage green eyes are illuminated with a type of awareness you would only find in Satan's Bible. If I did a little digging. I am sure I would find her picture somewhere in there too. Album cell with dark brown skin pin street black hair and a gold hoop in her nose. She is probably an evil succubus or something.
" Who are you texting?" I groan, nearly stomping my feet like a child. I refrain but come close to allowing a little of my social anxiety to air out and do something crazy like throwing a temper tantrum in the middle of the restaurant. It probably doesn't help that I am on my third Martini and feeling tired adventures right about now.
Sea greenses up, locks my phone , and hands it back a few seconds later. Immediately, I unlock it again and start searching through my messages. I groan aloud ones more when I see see texted greyson. Not texted. Sexted.
"Come over tonight and lick my pussy. I have been craving your huge cock ," I I read aloud dryly. That's not even all of it. The rest goes into how h**** I am and touch myself every night to the thought of him. I growl and give her the filthest look I can manage. My face would make a dumbster look like Mr clean's house.
"I wouldn't even say that !"I complain.
That doesn't even sound like me, you bitch.
Daya cackles,the teeny little gap between her front teeth on full display. I really do hate her.
My phone pings. Daya is nearly bouncing in her seat while I am contemplating googling to die's contact information so I can send them a new story.
"Red it"see demands har grabby hands
Already reaching for my phone so she can see what he said. I jerk it out of her rich and pull up the message.
GREYSON: about time you came to your senses, baby. Be over at 8:00.
"I don't know if I have ever told you this, but I really fucking hate you," I grumble giving her another scowl.
See smile and slurps on her drink."I love you too, baby girl."
"Fuck, Freyq, I have missed you," Greyson breathes into my neck, humping me against the wall. Mytail bone is going to be bruished in the morning. I roll my eyes when he slurps at my neck again from a groaning when he rules his dick into the apex of my thighs.
Deciding I needed to get over myself and blow of some steam, I didn't cancel on Greyson like I wanted to. Like I want to. I regret that decision.
Currently, he has me pinned against the wall in my creepy hallway. Old fashioned sconces line the blood red walls comma with dozen of family pictures from generations in between. I feel like they are watching me, scorn and disappointment in their eyes as they witnes their descendant about to get a railed write in front of them.
Only a few of the light work and they just serve to illuminate the spider webs they are crawling with. The rest of the hallway is shadowed entirely , and I am just waiting for the demon from The grudge to come crawling out so I have an excuse to run.
I would definitely trip greyson on the way out at this point, and not one inch of me is ashamed.
Hi Murmurs some more dirty things into my ear while I inspect the sconce hanging above our heads.Greyson said in passing once that he is scared of spiders. I wonder if I can discretely reach up plug a spider from its web, and put it down the back of greyson's shirt.
That would light a fire under his EST to get out of here and he would probably be to embarrass to talk to me again.
Win,win.
Just when I actually go to do it, he rears back, painting from all the solo french kissing he has been doing with my throat. It's like he was waiting for my neck toolic him back or something.
His copper hair is must from my hands and his pale skin is stained with a blush.
The curse of being a red head I suppose.
Greyson has everything else going for him in the looks department. He is hot as sin , has a beautiful body and a killer smile. Too bad he can't fuck and is a complete and utter douchebag.
Let's take this to the bedroom I needed to be inside of you know."
Internally, I cringe. Externally..…I crunch. I try to play it off by jerking my shirt over my head. He has the attention span of a beagle. And just like I suspected, he has already forgotten about my little blender and is steering intensely at my tits.
Daya was right about that, too. I do have great tits.
He reaches up to tear the bra from my body, I probably would have smacked him if he actually ripped it but he fridges when loud banking interrupts us from the main door.
The sound is so sudden, so valently loud that I guess, my heart pounding in my chest. Our eyes meet in stunned silence. Someone is pounding on my front door and they don't sound to nice.
"Are you expecting someone?"he ask comma his hand dropping to his side, seemingly frustrated by the interruption.
No, I breath. I quickly tag my shirt back on- backwards -and rush down the tricky steps. Taking a moment to check outside the window next to the door I see the front porch is vacant. My brow furros letting the curtain fall I stand in front of door, the stillness of the night closing in on the Manor.
Greyson walks up beside me and looks over at me with a confused expression. Uh, you gonna answer that? He ask dumbbeli, pointing at the door as if I to be an as, but refrain. Something about the knock has my instincts blearing code red. The knock founded aggressive. Angry. Like someone had founded on the door with all their strength.
A real man would offer to open the door for me after hearing such a violence sound. Especially when we are surrounded by a mile of thick woods and a hundred foot drop into the water.
But instead, creation stairs at me expectantali. And a little like I am stupid. Huffing I unlock the door and whipped it open.
Again no one is there. I step out on to the porch, the rotting floorboards groaning Vineet my weight. Cold wind stirs my cinnamon hair, the strands tickling my face and sending Shiva racing across my skin. Goosebumps rise as I track my hair behind my ears and work over to one and of the porch. Leaning over the rain I look down the side of the house. No one.
No one on the other side of the house either.
There could easily be someone watching me in the Woods but I have no way of knowing with it being so dark. Not unless I go out there and search myself. And as much as I love horror films I have no interest in starring in one.
There is someone watching me. I can feel it. I am sure of it as I am about the existence of gravity. Shells run down my find, accompanied by a burst of adrenaline. It's the same feeling I get when I watch I scary movie. It begins with the beat of my heart then I have a weight settle deep in my stomach eventually thinking to my core. I shift, not entirely comfortable with the feeling right now.
Huffing, iris back into the house and up the steps. Grasan trails behind me. I don't notice he is in the middle of undressing as he works down the hallway until he steps into my room after me. When I turn he is stark naked.
"Seriously?"I bite out. What a fucking idiot. Someone just bent on my door like the wood personally put us splinter in their as, and he is immediately ready to pick up where he left off. Slurping on my neck like one would slurp yellow out of a container.
"What?"he ask incredulously,splaying his arms out to his side.
"Did you not just here what I heard? Someone was begging on my door and it was kind of the scary. I am not in the mode to have sex right now."
What happened to chivalry? I would think a normal man would ask if I am okay. Feel out how I am feeling. Maybe try to make sure I am nice and relaxed before sticking their dick inside me.
You know, read the fucking room.
"You serious?"he questions, anger sparking in his brown eyes. They are a shitty colour, just like his shitty personality and even shittier stroke game. The door gives fish a run for their money, the way he flops when he fuck.
Might as well layout naked in the fish market he would have a better chance of finding someone to take him home. The person is not going to be me.
"Yes I am serious"I say with exasperation.
"God dammit, Freya," he snaps angrily swiping up a sock and putting it on. He looks like an idiot completely naked saved for a single socks because the rest of his clothes are still thrown have hazardly in my hallway. He is terms out my room matching up articles of clothing as he goes. When he gets about half way down the long hallway he stops and turns to me.
"You are such a bitch,Freya. All you do is the give me blue balls and I am sick of it. I am done with you and this creepy fucking house, he seethes, pointing a finger at me.
"And you are an asshole. Get the fuck out of my house, Greyson."
His eyes widen with shock first, and then narrow and two thin slits brimming with fury. He turns,cocks his arms back and stunts his fist flying into the drive wall.
A gasp is ripped from my throat when half of his our disappears my mouthparting in both shock and disbelief.
"Since I am not getting your, thought I would create my own hold to get into tonight. Fix that, bitch, he spits. Still sporting only one shop and an arm full of clothes he stormss off.
"You dick!"I rage, stomping towards the large hole in my wall he just created. The front door slams a minute later from below.
I hope the mysterious person is still out there. Let the asshole get murdered wearing a single socks.