Chapter 1

She sleeps. Down deep. She can’t hear a thing. Yet the ground seem to whisper her name. Her dream. Her life. Movement above. She wants them to help her.  Yet they can’t see her…

Jewel

My heart was pumping through my chest my eye felt like a waterfall as the cold tears trickled down my cheek. I ran to what seems to be an endless tunnel looking back behind me. I saw nothing yet I knew I was running away from someone. 

In that dimly lit tunnel. I knew I was running to the light. For whatever it was that was chasing me wanted to kill me. The fear intensified as I tripped over my other foot. Falling. I felt like I could not even move. I felt paralyzed. I turned over and watched whatever darkness come crawling towards me preparing to make my end. Closing my eye I curled up into a ball.

I put my hands on my ear because I didn’t want to hear a thing. Cold and all alone. I waited. Waited for something anything. For a knife to pierce my chest, for my last breath. It never came. 

*  * * * * *  * * * * * * * * * *  * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *  * * * *

Opening my eyes, I was surprised to not be in the tunnel as if my whole life revolved around it. Staring down at the tan cover of my hotel room bed. I tried to remember where I was. 

I was in Ohio. In one of the many counties. I sat up in my bed and looked over at my father sleeping in the other bed. I knew he would sleep long so I got up and got dressed. Just a black hoodie with a collage I’ve never heard of or been to before, and some baggy jeans that were handy downs. Putting my Pj’s back in my bag. 

I went over to the edge of my dad’s bed knowing my job in the morning was to wake his sleeping butt up. I shook him a little. 

Snore

.

I shook him hard to the point the bed was creaking, and I was sure I’ve to wake a few of our temporary neighbors up.  

Snore.

I knew What my last option was to wake him up. I went to my bag and took out a large book. I’ve never read it before. It was probably long dull and boring. The author must think it made some kind of social change. You can just tell by how it describes itself on the back.

I drop the book upon his head. To anyone else, this would seem to be an unkind act, but my father gave me permission if I could not wake him. He knew he stayed up long nights and sleeps in deep sleeps. 

A book to the face woke him up because soon he was sat up-book in hand- looking starstruck. It took him a quick minute to come completely to his senses and I just stood there waiting for him to mentally wake. 

He shook his head, making his already messing black hair messier. “How long did you stay up last night?” I asked noticing his laptop was still in bed with him.

“Not long, not long at all,” He says as if he was chanting something. He grabbed his glasses putting it on his head as he jumped out of bed. Going to the bathroom getting dressed. 

I put my bed head hair into a bun, the most I could do without a brush. “I greatly doubt that. What is it this time? 3 am maybe 4?” I half asked half scolded.

“...”

His absent reply made it all clear, that he had stayed up longer. I sighed and let it go. For he was an old dog, and I couldn’t teach him a new trick. 

He opened the door with a slam, probably making the neighbors dislike us more. He wore a black trench coat with a turtleneck and black jeans and brown hiking boots. Due to him being tall and very skinning. (and his bags under his eyes don’t hurt)  I would probably be creeped out by him if he was not my dad. 

“So what do we have on the agenda today?” I asked him knowing he probably had it all scheduled out. I shoved my hands in my pockets out of habit as he packed some stuff in a bag.

“We are going to Mrs. Meg’s house, an woman who claims her deceased husband is haunting her.” He says excitement growing on his face. My father is an informative horror writer, or how he likes to be called a paranormal/ supernatural science writer. 

To-mae-to, to-ma-to

I help him out. He writes down ghost stories he finds around towns we go to and put them in his books while explaining the paranormal side of it. I help him by pointing out which ones are too crazy to believe. Me not believing in any of them is pretty easy.

His books do well, well enough that he can afford traveling for them. “Wo-ho” I exclaim empathically. 

“Come on, it will be fun,” He says throwing the bag over his shoulder and opening our hotel door. We didn’t get far before an employee stopped us.

 “Mr. Steven,” The employee said as politely as he could muster. 

“Yes, my good sir” My dad replied deepening his voice. He does not even try to make them like us, then again once they learned of what he did all the employees lost respect for him. 

The employee rolled his eyes. “We had another complaint about you,” He said crossing his arms. 

“Oh, what about?” My father asked as if he didn’t know. 

I just stood there enjoying the show. Paranormal geek vs. angst teenage employee. Who will win? Tune in next time to find out. 

“Would it be so hard to keep the noise down.” He asked my father.

“Of course not,” My father said continuing with. “Won’t be a problem” 

We continued out of the building and to the parking lot. I started to open the car door, which is just black small care. “Ah, Ah,” My father coos. 

“We’ll be walking there.” He says with a glimmer in his eye. Great what is he up to. 

As we walk the streets, they’re all kinds of stores and restaurants, on every side of the seat. My father and I laughed at the dentist’s office, next to a candy store. Then I went in to get a chocolate bar for me and a kit-cat for him. 

We continued walking till the shops, houses, restaurants became fewer and fewer, and farther and farther apart. Tree’s seemed to replace all of the houses. Ones who blocked sunlight from going this way. It was eerie.

Thinking that I knew why my father wanted to go this way, it was eerie. A good place to be haunted. I looked over at him and a goofy smile on his face told me all I needed to know. “Did you bring me out here instead of driving just because you loved the scenery?” I asked, a little ticked. 

“Oh, daughter of mine. Why, oh why would you ever think so low of I?” He says moving his hands to convey his hurt. Two words to describe him: Drama Queen. 

He looked forward and squinted his eye. Reaching into his backpack being out a small toy, doll. Small enough it looks like one of the happy meal toys you get at McDonald’s. “Actually this is why we are here,” He says. As the sidewalk ends and we are forced to walk on the road there's a little grave upon it, it reads:

Wanda H. Meg

2006- 2019

May the memories and happiness 

Forever stay.

“Who is this?” I asked my father. Judging from the dates. She must have only been 12 years old.

“This is Mrs. Meg’s daughter. She died last year.” He says leaving the toy at her grave. The happy doll looked gloomier next to the grave, leaving a chill up my spine. 

“I’m leaving an offering, as to not offend the dead.” He said, 

After which we continued up the road and I soon realized it was a driveway when I saw a large gate. The kind you would find at a rich person’s house. My father clicked a buzzer on the gate and a robotic voice answer: “Hello, stat your business ” 

“I’m Harry Stevens, with my daughter Jewel Steven. We are here to see Mrs. Meg” He says all proper things like. Robot replied. “ Come in, Mrs. Meg will be waiting for you” 

With a creek, the gate opened. Reveal a large Victorian-style mansion. Which made my father almost giggle with delight. Why did I ever agree to this? The mansion just screamed haunted from the old house to the shaded ground from the trees. 

The wind made the tree’s whisper and I knew I wonder what would make a person want to live like this. (that is if you’re not my father) My father took out a small notebook and started writing down detail and I knew I would be kept awake by the nosy sound of typing. 

We stepped on the porch of the mansion with a creak. I started to doubt that the wood was even stable. Looking at the porch I noticed a chair with a book on it. It was a hardcover book that did have its name shown. Next to the chair was a plant that seemed to have wilted away, probably from neglect. 

The door opened and I swear the whole town would be able to hear how loud the door creaked. Outcomes a thin woman. She looked like she was in her thirty. Maybe a little younger. She was dark-skinned with light brown eyes. She had straight hair down to her ears, and big gold earrings. She wore a black tank top and skinny jeans with rips in them.

She looks like she should be going out dancing with her girlfriends, not living in a creepy house as such. “Oh, hello sugar,” She says with a sweet smile. 

“Hello, madam,” my father says, bowing in his goofy way.

“You must be Mr. Seven’s, A pleasure and an honor to meet ya,” She said with a little bow. She returned his goofiness. The quickest way to get my father to like you. 

“I assure you the pleasure is all mine pleasure is all mine,” He says. I stand there in the background wanting to facepalm myself. 

“Oh and this is my daughter, Jewel.” He says practically dragging me in front of him to meet her.  

“Hi, sunshine,” She says extending her hand.

I took it and shook it. “Hello Mrs. Meg,” I say trying to be as polite as possible while also trying to get done with conversing. It’s not that she does not seem nice, it's just in my experience the people who believe in ghosts are a little wrong in the head. 

“Tell me sugar, do you believe in ghosts? '' Great that question. The one that I dread. Especially with the crazies. 

“Not really,” I say. 

She winks at me. “Trust me once when you’re staying at my house you will,” She says. Staying. I look over at my father who was mouthing something to her and she put her hand over her mouth as if she said something she was not supposed. 

I looked at my father. Giving him a what’s going on look. “It was supposed to be a surprise, but…” He says going over and giving her a hug. “This is your Aunt Adi,” He says. I raise my eyebrow. 

“From your mother’s side,” She says. I lower my eyebrow.

“And about staying?” I ask crossing my arm. 

“Sugar, you’re getting older and your pa thought ya should have a solid home, he will go out on his trips and he will come back here to write,” She says. I never thought about having a soiled home. I never thought I ever needed anyone else but my father. 

“And every once in awhile I’ll take you will me,” He said. I was not sure about this, but my father seemed happy about it. It couldn’t hurt to give it a try. 

I crossed my arms and sighed. “Alright,” followed with. “What about the stuff at the hotel?” I asked him. Did we have to walk all the way back to the hotel to get it? I really didn’t feel like making the walk. 

“We’ll get it later, sugar.” She says, 

“Right, now we’ve got to get ya settled in.” She says taking my hand and leading me up the creaky staircase. 

Every Step I stood, the smell of dust became more and more strong. The creaky floorboards made me uncomfortable. Mrs. Meg led me to a hallway that had many rooms. On the walls their hung portraits of faces I don’t recognize. She starts to go slower when we walk into the hallway. 

“Who are these people?” I asked her. 

There was a glimmer in her eye when I asked that she turned swiftly starting at the first painting in the hall. It showed an elder black man, you could tell from his clothes and the pigment was fading that this was painted a long time ago. “This be your great, great, grea-” She starts. 

“I get the point,” I say.

She laughs. “Kay sugar, he was a slave who fled to the north and made a life for himself.” She said looking with admiration at the picture. She continued to lead me down the hallway telling the stories of every person in the picture. It was interesting for sure. 

We turned the corner and she leads me to a door painted black. She opens it, this door by far is the least creaky door. There was a plain twin bed. One much like the hotels, the flooring was wood, but there was a carpet in the middle of the room. A wardrobe and a closet in which the white paint was starting to peel. 

“I assume this will be my room,” I said looking up at her.

“After everything gets here was can decorate it however ya want.” She says I thought it was fine as it is. 

“I’ll give ya time to get settled.” She said closing the door. 

Walked over to the bed and sat down on the bed. It was comfy. I had a window in my room I looked over and peered outside. I could see my cousin’s grave from here.

Author's Note

Please ignore grammar mistakes