A perfectly normal island for a holiday. Nothing could possibly happen.
Vacation or Mystery?
Okay, we’re living here?
Thunder cracked the sky and rain roared on our tiny car. But, because I’m optimistic, I will give you, dear reader, the good news. We are halfway there. Now I will give you the bad news. The internet has been cut off, and Dad farted twice. The car smells like rotten eggs and ripe fruits now. Grandma’s social worker is supposed to meet us after two minutes. We will follow her in our car. Nobody is talking in the car right now.
To be honest, this is the worst car trip I’ve had in my life. And if the island is not full of locked doors to pick and creepy haunted houses, this is going to be the most horrible trip in my life!
Look, I’m the adventure type. And, I’ll drag Sam along. He’s 16, I’m 14. Plus he is a boy. The safety matters. Although I know he would love to curl up with some book in an old library somewhere, he will accompany me because he would not let me go wandering on a deserted island alone. Our rented bungalow seems creepy enough. Must have some history behind it.
“Miranda!” My Mom called out from her car window. “Honey! We’re over here!”
The social worker had arrived. “Are you a weirdo, MOM? No one calls a stranger honey. Are you planning on ditching dad??” Sam interrogated.
“Shush, now dear.” Mom said, clearly tired and too tired to fight back.
“Miranda! Miranda! We’re over here!” She shouted as the social worker got out of her car.
“Oh hello, everyone. You must be the family of Granny Mavis. Follow my car, dears and you will get to the beautiful island.” She spoke with a distinctive British accent.
“Great. Let’s go.” My dad nodded.
So we followed the car into a lighted road for once. It was a bridge road. The sea sparkled like a jewel beneath us. It was breathtaking. We continued on to an old country road with old houses and old shops with everything old. It looked like we had driven into a movie set from the 80’s. It felt so lively, but so deserted and rejected at the same time. But we passed that road and turned right to a slopy beach road with five houses to be exact. The rest was all forest. The road was intact, thankfully. We then stopped at the fifth house.
The top floor’s balcony was covered with climbing vines, and the some of the windows swung open as if creaking with pain. It was painted mauve, but it chipped away at the corners. I bet this house was at least 100 years old if not more. Old curtains stood next to the windows as if giving them company. I looked away. It somehow hinted that something bad had happened here. A lonely shed stood next to the house, a tiny window allowed the light in. Lightning struck, suddenly it eliminated the shed and a shadowy hand pressed against the window. I gasped! What was that??
“You alright?’ Sam asked. He had noticed my gasp.
“Yeah, I’m f-fine.” I said, stammering. This was too creepy for my liking. Now I know why Mom wanted to get Grandma out of this place. Bad things had happened here.
The last thing I wanted to hear was Mom to say “We’re living here.”
“Great, thanks.” She said to the worker as they finished their conversation.
Turning to us she said, “Grandma lives here. So we are going to as well.”
I felt a cold fear come over me. I reached for my brother’s hand. He grasped mine tightly too. I repeat, my dear readers, bad things have happened here.

Keep Reading

Chapter 3

Vibrations and Sheds.

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