What If... Part1BcA

...Then something catches your eyes among the yellowed folds of paper. You scoop it up, turning the paper every which way until you find the proper angle. A small flower is sketched in one corner of the paper, and for some reason it looks familiar. But from where? You examine its sun-like shape and the branches of skinny leaves growing up from the base. Yes, you've seen this before – here, in this house as a matter of fact.

You stand, curiosity getting the best of you. Scanning walls, windows, and doors, you move back through the living room and into the dining room. Well, you certainly didn't see the flower on the stained glass window. No, it's just some ribbon/wreath arrangement you're not quite sure what to call.

You let your eyes follow the trim up the wall, over a door, and back down to the floor. Ah-hah. You kneel down by the doorway and trace your fingers through the flower. The trim is a bit worn on the edges, but the flower is in perfect shape. Simple, but adding an elegant touch. The grain of the wood even swirls around the flower as if it were a magical blossom. You glance around at all the other doorways. They too, have flowers stationed on either side in the trim. Why hadn't you spotted them sooner?

The words of the note flash through your mind. My name is Nadine. I live here … I like flowers. Those last words had seemed so random, so out of place with the rest of the note, but now it hits you. It's a hint, a clue, but to what? To find Nadine? If you want to live here, you'll have to play with me... So this is a game. Will you play it or not? 

Bzzz, bzzz. Your phone vibrates in your pocket. You slip it out. Dad. Finally.

“Hello?”

“Hey, Sweetie. What's up?”

“Well...” You pace the room. “This house is kind of weird.”

Dad chuckles. “Has character, doesn't it?”

“That's not exactly what I meant.” You shake your head despite the fact that he can't see you.

Dad is silent for a moment. “Are you telling me you don't like it?”

“Not exactly... It's just that some really strange things are going on.”

A boisterous laugh fills your ear. “Sweetie, are you paranoid? I assure you, it's not haunted, no matter what the locals say.”

“It's just that Carl gave me this creepy note.”

“Read it to me.”

You read it, all the while wondering how unbelievable this sounds over the phone, like something from the movies.

Dad is quiet for a moment. Then he speaks, his voice strange, “That is weird.”

“Do you suppose this is just a friendly prank or ...” Your voice trails off.

“I don't know... I'm going to call Carl. In the mean time, why don't you check in at a hotel for the night?”

“Okay,” you say, but you don't sound relieved. Why are you disappointed? Oh, well... Better safe than sorry. “Bye, Dad.” You choke out.

“Bye. Love you.” He hangs up.

You sigh and slide your phone back into your pocket. The note you tuck into your purse. Fishing for your car keys, you head for the door. You take one last look at the ghostly furniture and the shadows lurking behind, just waiting for Nadine to pop out, but she doesn't. You swing open the door and step outside.

Oops, you forgot about the slippery steps. Your feet fly out from under you, and thumpety-thump-thump, you slide down the stairs on your behind. Matt throws his snow shovel to the side and catches you at the bottom. “You okay?”

You avoid his gaze, expecting him to say something about how clumsy you are or about how you and stairs just don't get along, but instead he sits down beside you. “I really need to get that rail fixed.”

“Don't worry,” you try to stand. “I'm leaving.”

“What? Why?” He steadies you as you start to wobble again.

Pain shoots up your back, and you grimace. “This place – is – dangerous.”

“I think you've said that before.”

Heat rushes to your face. “Yes, well, it is.”

“There's something else, isn't there?” Matt grabs your arm.

Your hand freezes on the car handle. Can you trust him? No, no you can't. You made that mistake with Oren. One you promised you'd never make again. You swing open your car door, but Matt's grasp on your other arm prevents you from sitting down.

“Look,” a white puff of breath shoots from Matt's mouth and evaporates inches from your face. “I've seen this house sit here empty for too long. Year after year I've seen people buy her and then pack up and leave a week later. They spread stories of it being haunted, but I know that's not true. Tell me, what exactly is going on?”

You jerk your arm away and...

A. Say, “I can't talk right now. I've got to go.”

B. Show him the note.

C. Ask him, “If you want to know, why don't you buy the house?”