In my ripe old age of thirty, I have had the privilege/headache of owning two homes. And house hunting proved to be quite easy… and not necessarily recommended. With my first home we had spent countless minutes searching for the perfect home for my new family. And boy were we rewarded… with unfriendly neighbors, multiple car vandalism incidents, and a stolen dog. It was great.
A year later we called it quits and after more countless minutes of debate found our soon to be second home. At least for this one, my husband spent twenty years getting to know the place and neighborhood, and I had scoped the place out plenty of times – I even had Thanksgiving and Christmas there once… (My in-laws retired and put their house up for sale and we snatched it up before it could have its first walk through.)
We have been living in our new home for ten years last month. And we have loved it, and all of our neighbors- who some still talk to my in-laws on a regular basis. However, we have noticed in the last year that most of these people have started packing up and hitting the road. At first I was thinking there was something wrong with the neighborhood and we should move too. Preferably to the northwest. Then the light switched turned on, these folks are retiring and moving off to greener pastures. I am jealous, I bet they are going somewhere cooler, and prettier, like in the mountains. (Have I mentioned how hot this month has been? And how much I really hate the heat?) So anyways, there has been an influx of houses going up for sale and new neighbors with kids moving in.
It’s weird. I am used to quiet, cranky neighbors who eyeball me funny because I have the ugliest lawn. Now I have young, friendly neighbors who eyeball me funny because I have the ugliest lawn.
Now that I have gone on and on about buying houses, let me explain… The October 22, 2014 challenge from over at the Carrot Ranch Communications prompt: In 99 words (no more, no less) write a creepy story. It can be prompted by the green fog in the photo, an imaginative idea about the Beals or take place in a cemetery. If other creepy ideas take hold, go for it! We’ll all shudder and be in the mood for Halloween–or grateful for its passing.
“This house is great!”
I smiled at my husband as he awed over the latest finding from our realtor. Our feet crunched on the straw-like grass; it was as if the house had sucked the life out of the yard.
It wasn’t easy, but I ignored the pungent smells, smiling like a lunatic, as we roamed through each room. I pretended to listen to them drone on about location, schools….
There was a perk. The pool.
It didn’t take much, a brick to his head. Holding her down wasn’t easy, but I managed.
The house was great after all.
For whatever reason, I had trouble getting anything creepy to come to mind. Which was frustrating because I am all about the creepy. My husband is going to start getting a complex if I keep writing these flashes killing off the husband.