That night I laid in bed talking to my dad for hours. We talked about my mom, why she left, why she died. We talked about my experience with the Pritchetts. He held me as I cried and told me things that made me feel comfortable.
But when he left I had a chance to look around my new, dark, drafty room. There was one big window facing my bed and the moonlight was streaming in through the curtains. I remember laying in bed looking out at the moon past the branches of the oak tree. I watched the shadows of branches fan across my room. I listened to the creaks in the house. I thought of how scary the house was. But after living in a brand new house with three red haired demons and a mother that wouldn’t listen to me, the old creepy house on the hill felt safe.
As I closed my eyes and my mind started to wander, I remembered the one thing my dad and I hadn’t talk about that night.
My eyes popped open and I sat up. I slid out of bed and there was a loud creak at my feet. I walked slowly, creaking the wooden floorboards with each step until I was framed inside the large window. I looked down at the dark graveyard. It was mysterious and scary looking with the moon casting long shadows with each gravestone. The largest shadow was from the oak tree. The tree swing was rocking back and forth, in and out of shadow.
I squinted as the swing rocked back and forth again. I pressed my face closer and squinted harder as the swing rocked faster. Out of the shadows came two feet and two legs, and then the swing rocked back into the shadows. It happened a few times until I knew it was real.
I heard the door behind me slowly creak. And the swing stopped moving.
To be continued…