Home Sweet Home (From Writer's Digest)
By: Brian A. Klems
After months of living in a bug-infested apartment, you decide it's finally time to get a new place. While you're shopping for a new place to live, you drive past a beautiful Victorian house with a large lawn. A sign in the front says "FOR SALE," so you decide to call the realtor out...
I paced back and forth across the slightly overgrown lawn, waiting somewhat impatiently for the realtor to arrive. I didn't know what it was about this house that had made me slam on my breaks and whip into the driveway, but I was drawn to the looming Victorian in a way I'd never been drawn to anything. Yes, I had been looking for a new place to live all day, but nothing like this, nothing this... grand.
I stopped my restless movement and shielded my eyes against the afternoon sun to look up once more at the work of art that was the house standing before me.
I could see where she had once been painted pink though the color had faded and the paint had chipped away in most places. I counted three different types of shingles on the sides of the house and up the beautiful turret, and in a few places I noted the bare spots that would require new hand-cut replacements. The screened-in wrap around porch still looked sturdy enough, though many of the spindles, bits of trim, and one side of the tell-tell arch element were all missing. Even the windows, usually used as target practice by neighborhood kids with too much free time and too little supervision, all seemed intact. They had all been papered from the inside, putting a frustrating end to my attempt at peeking inside, but I could still imagine how much morning light would shine in through the bay windows and light up the home.
All in all she was a bit of a fixer-upper and as I wondered at the condition of the inside of the house I worried the all repairs were going to well exceed my budget. Something inexplicable was tugging at me though, moving me to buy the house and damn the cost.
I guess I could live on ramen and peanut butter and jelly sandwiches again if I had to.
The car crunching behind me on the slightly decaying driveway pulled my attention from my math calculations and ramen recipies. It was a late model sedan, nothing too flashy but with just enough class that said “I know what I'm doing, trust me.” The petite woman that stepped from the car, the red heels of her shoes winking at me, exuded the same message.
"You must be Libby! Fantastic to meet you, just fantastic! My name is Ginny Acres and I am just pleased as punched that you called me!” She was a whirlwind of energy and pep. With her huge smile and vigorous handshake I would bet money and my own Louboutins that she was a former cheerleader.
I opened my mouth to reply but suddenly she was talking again. She never let go of my hand, just led me to the front steps while she continued on in a tone that was beginning to boarder on frantic.
"You'll just LOVE this house. The outside needs some work but the inside is just as pristine as the day the owners... well just as pristine as the day it was built. You'll find it nicely priced, well below market value, which will give you enough padding to repair the exterior and update the appliances!”
Ms. Acres had unlocked the ornate front door and pushed it wide open. She reached in just far enough to fumble the light on and with a wide sweeping gesture she spoke up once more. “I can just tell this is the house for you. Go on in and have a look!”
(to be continued... because spooky houses are fun)
