What If... Part 1B

“Uh, I guess I'll see you later?” He says as you shove the old door closed. You ignore his implied question and lock the door behind you. With a sigh, you slide to the floor. What a day.

A few short seconds later you dare to peek out the window. He's gone, and you finally feel secure. Then you remember you're in a strange dilapidated house that is probably haunted and dusty among other things. Oh well...you definitely are not driving back to Phoenix. A sudden creak and rattling of the windows sends you flying to your feet. You're not sure, but you think you might rather be outside freezing your toes off with your much too friendly neighbor. Taking a few deep breaths, you shrug off your fear. It's probably just the wind, anyway.

You wander through the living room to what appears to be the dining room. You hold your breath. The wood work is gorgeous. Little swirls fill the grain of the trim and doors. A huge window with stained glass at the top covers the south wall. Lights of yellow, red, and blue fall through the window and dance on the table top. Perhaps it wouldn't be so bad staying here, but then you run your finger across the table. It's coated in at least a inch of dust. you cringe and wipe your finger on your jeans. Fortunately most the furniture is covered with sheets. You spot an old radiator in one corner of the room. It's dusty too, but you lean up against it, bathing in the warmth. The heat is on and running, just as Dad's friend promised. You can see the kitchen through another doorway, but three other doors block your view to anything else beyond the dining room. You try the first one on the north wall, only to walk into an empty room with more doors, so I back track and try the next door. It leads to a stair case that creaks as soon as you place a foot on it, and you promptly decide you're staying downstairs as long as you have too. The last door on the west opens into a huge bedroom with rusty-colored carpet and a ceiling too tall for even Goliath. Perfect. 

All the woodwork is darker in here, and the walls are cream colored. A fireplace with empty bookshelves above it fills the west wall. Your bed is on the north wall. You throw off the dust sheet only to find an empty mattress. Ugh. Why didn't you think to bring bedding? Maybe one of the bedrooms upstairs has bedding. Walking over to the windows, you fling open the curtains, allowing what little sunlight there is to stream in, but you immediately regret it. Dust flies everywhere, stinging your eyes and itching your throat. You sneeze, cough, and blink. By the time you have yourself under control again, you realize someone is banging on the door.

You scramble to the front door and peek out the window. Your lovely neighbor grins at you, holding a snow shovel to the glass. You crack the door a bit. “What do you want?”

“Mind if I shovel your driveway?”

“I suppose it wouldn't hurt.” You open the door an inch wider. 

He smiles. “Suppose?”

“Yes, I mean, that would be really nice. Thank you.” 

“No problem.” He just stands there, grinning sheepishly.

“Alrighty then...um I better go start cleaning this place up.” You try to shut the door, but he lodges his foot in the way.

“Wait,” he says. “Do you have a name?”

You sigh. “I'm not too fond of handing it out to strangers.”

 

He chuckles, his eyes twinkling. "Well, I'm Matt." He extends his hand.

You eye black-gloved fingers. If shaking his hand is what will get him to move his big foot, you decide you'll take the risk. You extend your scrawny pale fingers. He wraps them in a hearty squeeze and then waves goodbye, the wind whipping at his scarf. "I better get to work." He nods toward the driveway.

Yes, you better. You find yourself sighing again when the door clicks shut. 

Thump. Thump. Creaaak! You jump. So maybe that wasn't the wind earlier. Footsteps sound on the stairs. You grasp the door knob, ready to dart into a snowdrift if needed. The steps sound louder, and then a figure appears. "Miss Addie?"

You let your hand slide from the door knob. A stick-like man in a white dress shirt and tie walks toward you, a smile wrinkling his face. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to scare you. Your father sent me over to turn on the heat and water, and I was just checking things upstairs. Didn't think you'd be here yet."

You place a hand over your chest as if to calm your pounding heart. Any friend of your Dad's was okay. "Carl, right?" You try to smile.

He nods, running his fingers through his gray hair. "If you need anything, my wife and I live two blocks down on the corner." 

You almost roll your eyes. People here are much too friendly. "Thanks. I'll keep that in mind."

He smiles. "Well, have a good day." Carl disappears into the kitchen, but reappears within seconds. He drops a yellowed envelope into your palm. "Forgot to give you this." He winks, and disappears again. You hear the back door click shut and examine the gift. Flipping it over, you read the words scrawled neatly on the back: To Whomever Buys This Home: Beware.

Despite the shiver climbing up your spine, you rip open the envelope. The letter isn't special - It's just notebook paper. You unfold it with shaky fingers.

My name is Nadine. 

I live here. 

If you want to live here, 

You'll have to play with me. 

I like flowers.

What sort of prank is this? Not exactly the ghost note you expected, but goosebumps dot your arms. Something in your gut tells you prank or no prank, this might be dangerous. You decide to...

A. Look for Nadine. No worries, you'll keep your cell phone handy.

B. Laugh and toss the note into the waste basket. Dad really got you good this time.

C. Call your parents. They always know what to do.