Haunting-Adeline
me, that’s for damn sure.I rip a page from Mom’s book and let loose a melodrama c sigh, turningto look out my side window. Said house stands tall, the p of the black roofspearing through the gloomy clouds and looming over the vastly woodedarea as if to say you shall fear me. Peering over my shoulder, the densethicket of trees are no more invi ng—their shadows crawling from theovergrowth with outstretched claws.I shiver, deligh ng in the ominous feeling radia ng from this smallpor on of the cliff. It looks exactly as it did from my childhood, and it givesme no less of a thrill to peer into the infinite blackness.Parsons Manor is sta oned on a cliffside overlooking the Bay with a milelong driveway stretching through a heavily wooded area. The congrega onof trees separates this house from the rest of the world, making you feellike you’re well and truly alone.Some mes, it feels like you’re on an en rely different planet, ostracizedfrom civiliza on. 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 newagain with a bit of TLC. Hundreds of vines crawl up all sides of thestructure, climbing towards the gargoyles sta oned on the roof on eitherside of the manor. The black siding is fading to a gray and star ng to peelaway, and the black paint around the windows is chipping like cheap nailpolish. I’ll have to hire someone to give the large front porch a faceli sinceit’s star ng to sag on one side.The lawn is long overdue for a haircut, the blades of grass nearly as tallas me, and the three acres of clearing burs ng with weeds. I bet plenty ofsnakes have se led in nicely since it’s last been mowed.Nana used to offset the manor’s dark shade with blooms of colorfulflowers during the spring season. Hyacinths, primroses, violas, andrhododendron.And in autumn, sunflowers would be crawling up the sides of the house,the bright yellows and oranges in the petals a beau ful contrast against theblack siding.I can plant a garden around the front of the house again when theseason calls for it. This me, I’ll plant strawberries, le uce, and herbs aswell.
I’m deep in my musings when my eyes snag on movement from above.Curtains flu er in the lone window at the very top of the house.The a c.Last me I checked, there’s no central air up there. Nothing should beable to move those curtains, but yet I don’t doubt what I saw.Coupled with the looming storm in the background, Parsons Manorlooks like a scene out of a horror film. I suck my bo om lip between myteeth, unable to stop the smile from forming on my face.I love that.I can’t explain why, but I do.Fuck what my mother says. I’m living here. I’m a successful writer andhave the freedom to live anywhere. So, what if I decide to live in a placethat means a lot to me? That doesn’t make me a lowlife for staying in myhometown. I travel enough with book tours and conferences; se ling downin a house won’t change that. I know what the fuck I want, and I don’t givea shit what anyone else thinks about it.Especially mommy dearest.The clouds yawn, and rain spills from their mouths. I grab my purse andstep out of my car, inhaling the scent of fresh rain. It turns from a lightsprinkle to a torren al downpour in a ma er of seconds. I bolt up the frontporch steps, flinging drops of water off my arms and shaking my body outlike a wet dog.I love storms—I just don’t like to be in them. I’d prefer to cuddle upunder the blankets with a mug of tea 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 meeven a millimeter. I jimmy the key, wrestling with it un l the mechanismfinally turns and I’m able to unlock the door.Guess I’m gonna have to fix that soon, too.A chilling dra welcomes me as I open the door. I shiver from themixture of freezing rain s ll wet on my skin and the cold, stale air. Theinterior of the house is cast in shadows. Dim light shines through thewindows, gradually fading as the sun disappears behind gray 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 ofhundreds of thin, long pieces of wood. A grand chandelier is hanging over
- Page 3 and 4: Haunting Adeline Copyright © 2021
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- Page 7 and 8: the subject, but I did take great c
- Page 9 and 10: Ripping my eyes away from the windo
- Page 11: If it’s not one thing, it’s the
- Page 15 and 16: I press my thumb into the up arrow
- Page 17 and 18: before. The hairs on the back of my
- Page 19 and 20: Her sage green eyes are illuminated
- Page 21 and 22: “Let’s take this to the bedroom
- Page 23: the rest of his clothes are s ll th
- Page 26 and 27: loca ons that won’t allow the fuc
- Page 28 and 29: Par cularly about computer science
- Page 30: everybody if I were short.A tall, w
- Page 33 and 34: I wince from the feel of the hair-l
- Page 35 and 36: If Genevieve Parsons is as wild as
- Page 37 and 38: Le ng out a shaky breath, I pluck t
- Page 39: my front door. And I mean, like har
- Page 42 and 43: “Make it extra strong. I’m goin
- Page 44 and 45: rented a dumpster, and we loaded th
- Page 46: “I will,” I lie. She leaves wit
- Page 49 and 50: When I was younger, Nana refused to
- Page 51 and 52: “You need me to call anyone?”I
- Page 53 and 54: painted on her thin lips, and icy b
- Page 55 and 56: Being a real estate agent pays well
- Page 57: The bed is no more, having bought m
- Page 60 and 61: But I couldn’t be both a hacker a
me, that’s for damn sure.
I rip a page from Mom’s book and let loose a melodrama c sigh, turning
to look out my side window. Said house stands tall, the p of the black roof
spearing through the gloomy clouds and looming over the vastly wooded
area as if to say you shall fear me. Peering over my shoulder, the dense
thicket of trees are no more invi ng—their shadows crawling from the
overgrowth with outstretched claws.
I shiver, deligh ng in the ominous feeling radia ng from this small
por on of the cliff. It looks exactly as it did from my childhood, and it gives
me no less of a thrill to peer into the infinite blackness.
Parsons Manor is sta oned on a cliffside overlooking the Bay with a mile
long driveway stretching through a heavily wooded area. The congrega on
of trees separates this house from the rest of the world, making you feel
like you’re well and truly alone.
Some mes, it feels like you’re on an en rely different planet, ostracized
from civiliza on. 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 new
again with a bit of TLC. Hundreds of vines crawl up all sides of the
structure, climbing towards the gargoyles sta oned on the roof on either
side of the manor. The black siding is fading to a gray and star ng to peel
away, and the black paint around the windows is chipping like cheap nail
polish. I’ll have to hire someone to give the large front porch a faceli since
it’s star ng to sag on one side.
The lawn is long overdue for a haircut, the blades of grass nearly as tall
as me, and the three acres of clearing burs ng with weeds. I bet plenty of
snakes have se led in nicely since it’s last been mowed.
Nana used to offset the manor’s dark shade with blooms of colorful
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 beau ful contrast against the
black siding.
I can plant a garden around the front of the house again when the
season calls for it. This me, I’ll plant strawberries, le uce, and herbs as
well.
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