FicWad

It wasn't the wind that did it, we would have felt that hard of a gust. No, this was like someone's hand had been behind the door. My mother and I looked at each other in surprise, and I could almost hear her thinking the same thing I was, 'That was spooky'. Her hand went back to the door knob for a second try. I could feel a weird anxiety build in my as the she turned it, her wrist cracking as she did.

To my relief, the door opened, again with ease, but this time it stayed open. The darkness of the house must have spooked us, and perhaps there was a draft in here that we didn't know about. I was acting like a scared idiot.

My mom's cheer came back in full-swing as we stepped into the house. This was the greeting room, the floors a dark hardwood, and a staircase in front of us that lead to the second floor. There was a antique table and two chairs against the wall, along with a carved coat-rack right next to me. Paintings of landscapes adorned the walls, some of them dark and dismal, while the others were bright and beautiful.

We had bought the house already furnished, apparently the house had been owned by a couple who had died, ad then it had been left to a distant relative. The relative had only kept it for tax purposes and once he died, the house became the States and now it was ours. Despite my distaste for the outside, the inside looked great and very homey, I couldn't wait to see my bedroom. My mother was the only one who had come over to look at the place, I had stayed over at a friend's for the weekend.

"Okay, now we're going to have to get situated before you go exploring", my mom set down the stuff she had in her arms. I nodded, setting my suitcase down.

"Can I go see my room first though?", I asked, my voice echoing in the room. My mom smiled at me and nodded.

"Just go up these steps and your's should be to the left", she gave directions before going out and talking to the moving men about our furniture. We didn't have much, my father had died in the fire that destroyed half of our old house. Most of the furniture had either been burnt or it was now cinders back in Connecticut. We'd had only two choices, stay and fix the house, or find a new place. My grandparents had been all for us staying at their house, but after living twenty years with them, my mother had put her foot down on the suggestion. She couldn't stand sharing a house with them.

I pulled my thoughts from the past as I stepped up the ancient steps, it had some sort of carpet on them and it flattened under my black Vans. I pulled my suitcase behind me, if I was going to my room, I might as well leave it in there. I followed the hallway to the left and came across two rooms, one on each side. One had to be a bathroom, there was a actual bathtub with clawed feet, along with a sink from the late century. I found that I liked it, the walls were a painted jade color, making it peaceful. I came out of that room and walked across to the other.

This was definitely a bedroom. A very vibrant bedroom. The walls were painted red, a red that reminded me of blood, with a red carpet that had a weird coat of arm decorating it in a pattern. I looked down to scrutinize it and found that it said 'Bella Muerte' on the banner with two black ravens holding the banner in their claws. I shuddered, the word 'Muerte' didn't sound comforting. The bed had a canopy over it and the colors of it were red and black. The room looked like someone had meant for everything to match. I found the strange coat of arms everywhere and the same two disturbing colors decorated the entire color scheme of the room. I hated it, much like the outside of the house, it was too dark.

I had loved the color black before my father's death, I'd dressed in a Gothic fashion in school even. But after experiencing a death first hand, I couldn't bear the color.

I set down my suitcase next to a dresser that had a dark furnish on it, along with a mirror that attached to it. I looked in the mirror and saw an unhappy teenage girl looking back at me. But I had to keep up appearances for mom, she seemed so pleased to be moving to a new house.

There were two other doors in the room, one had to be for a closet, the other was to the balcony. I would make sure to keep the two seperate, going out to the platform was a thing I wasn't going to enjoy. I sighed, this was my new habitat, and I'd have to adapt to it if I wanted to have anything close to an enjoyable life here.

Just then I felt a breeze. It was cold and nipped at my skin like a knife. I shuddered and stood up, I was right, there must be a draft in here.

I got up to leave so I could help my mother get things in when I heard a distinct whisper. Genderless and almost non-existent, but still audible to my ear.

"Get out"
I turned around and looked around the room for someone. It was empty. Must've been my own mind, I was still jumpy from the wind. I turned back around and walked down the steps to the greeting room, while a nervous feeling in the back of my mind told me I was wrong. I pushed it away as I saw my mother coming in through the door with a bunch of boxes in her arms.

"Hey sweetheart, could you go out and get box labeled dishes?", I smiled at her and nodded. 'I have to adapt', I thought as I took the clinking box from the moving guy and started walking back to my personal hell.