Northern Michigan was a beautiful place. Forrests beyond forests, lakes of all sizes no farther than five to ten miles apart, wild raspberry and blackberry bushes in the woods, mushrooms of all kinds. The only thing I think I could really complain about was the winter. It was way too cold, and longer than I would've liked. It snowed too much too. But now I was leaving it. I wouldn't miss it much, I learned better than to get too attached to a place, living out of boxes and suitcases my entire life not staying in one place for longer than a year. "Hey you ready to go?" my father asked slamming the tailgate shut after setting the last box in the bed of his truck.

"Always." I said rolling my eyes, a little startled by the loud sound.

"Good, if you would do the honors of locking the door we can get out of here then." He handed me the key to the front door.

"Of course." I forced a smile, trying to make it look genuine. I didn't hate my father, just some of his beliefs and how he treated me. I walked up to the front door, no exciting memories happened here, just me coming home from school to an empty house, waking up to an empty house, falling asleep to an empty house.

Don't get me wrong it wasn't all sad, depressing, and lonely memories. There were some good memories in some of the houses I lived in. I wasn't always alone. I invited some kids from school over, had a few small parties so I wasn't the weird creepy lonely guy from school. I had friends, but that was it. Friends. People who I added on snapchat and instagram, people who forgot about me after awhile, people I forgot after a while. But that was about it.

"Taylor! Oh Taylor wait up dear!" An old woman's cheerful, british accented voice, and the yiping of her pomeranian Lilly knocked me out of my thoughts. Mrs. Morrison was the frail, old, widowed lady from next door. She shouted something from across her yard, waving one hand frantically, and holding something silver and shiny in the other. Quickly, I locked the door and put the key under the rock like the landlord asked of us. Wiping my eyes from tears I didn't know I had shed, I turned to face the fragile old woman walking my way.

"Mornin' Mrs. Morrison! Lilly!!" My fake smile turning into a real one as she and her dog walked up the slight incline from her yard to my own. Almost tripping on her way to me I yelled "Careful Mrs. Morrison! The hills are no place for you to be walking up by yourself!" I ran towards her, grabbing her arm and helping her up the rest of the way.

"Are you calling me old!?" She gasped dramatically.

"What!? Me? Call you old!? How dare you accuse me of such accusations! I would never!" I put a hand to my chest acting like she was accusing me of a crime and then laughing.

"Oh I know you wouldn't dear, but I am!" She replied when she finally got to me basically shoved whatever she had in her hands, into mine out of breath. "Sorry, give me a second to catch my breath dear. That's a lot to walk for an old lady like me." She said, taking some more deep breaths. I was about to tell her she wasn't old for probably the millionth time when I was cut off.

"Mrs. Morrison! How are you today?" My father called out from his truck on the opposite side of mine.

"Oh i'm fine darling! And you?" She turned to him and waved, shouting over the sound of his engine.

"I'm doing fine thank you for asking." My father shouted back.

Turning back to me she spoke no higher than a whisper. "Here dear. I want you to take these for your trip. Brownies just the way you and you're father like them-"

"Double chocolate chips." She winked as we spoke simultaneously. Mmmmmm, my absolute favorite.

"And don't worry about returning the pan, you can return it when you come visit me soon." Mrs. Morrison said, patting the pan that was already in my hands. Opening my mouth to respond, I was interrupted. "Well if I live that long anywho." She chuckled.

"Mrs. Morrison! How many times do I have to tell you that you are not old yet. You've got years ahead of you. Especially if you keep up the gardening." I smiled.

"Puh-lease Taylor dear, call me Gilly. And stop flattering me, you make an old woman's heart warm." As the short woman brought me in for a bear hug, I couldn't help but let a tear roll down my face. God this past year has had me so emotional lately! I guess you can thank puberty for that.

"I will miss you Mrs..." She gave me a stern look. "Gilly." I caught myself.

"Awe, I'll miss you too sweetie. Promise me that you'll be safe and that you'll visit soon!?" her stern look turned into a smile not even a second into her sentence.

"Haha, I promise." I said grinning as I took her into another hug, her pomeranian whining for being left out. "Oh come here silly girl." I picked her up and kissed her on the head. "Yeah i'm going to miss- Ouch!!" Lily bit me on the lip.

"Lily! Bad dog!" scrambling to get away from me, Mrs. Morrison took Lilly from me, spanking her lightly. "She has never in her life bit anyone! I wonder what led her to do that, I am so sorry Taylor!" She held sorrowness and compassion in her eyes and words.

"Oh it's fine. I'm sure she just hates that I'm leaving!" I said trying to make her feel better.

"Well, she has never been good at goodbye's that's for sure." She set Lily down. Well, I should probably let you guys get going now, take care of your father, no matter how much he irritates or, or his beliefs on-" she stopped to look if he was listening, "Well you know." She said, referring to my sexuality. Embracing me harder in the hug, she smelled like the beach, and lavender somehow had a baby. It was nice. Mrs. Morrison always had a charm to her. She dressed like the queen of england, was sweet but stern, and always smelled nice. Pulling away from the hug, she patted me on the cheek.

Saying our goodbyes, I watched as the 5'0 widowed woman who I had helped all spring, working on her house, garden and yard leave my life. I would visit her again, and call when I could but for now it was time for me to go. Holding out the brownies to my father to take one or two we left.

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Who knew driving one thousand miles could be so tiresome? Especially when you were still a newer driver who fears everything on the road, or when you get little to no sleep because you're father didn't want to pay for a motel or hotel room so you had to sleep in your truck at a truck stop. My father irritated me most times, telling me to man up when I showed even the slightest bit of sadness, repeating the exact same life lessons every time he can to me, pretending to be a great father, and so much more I didn't want to get into at the moment.

I can admit, I have had some good memories with my father, like when he taught me how to shoot guns, bows, how to use a dagger, sword, knife, how to get out of almost any knot. Well the knot wasn't a good memory when he basically kidnapped me making me think I was going to die to do it. Let's just say I was both successful and unsuccessful because when I fell back in the chair to break it like in the movies, I broke the chair... but my arm broke with it. What could I say? My entire life I've had fragile bones. All it took was a simple trip to the ground to break something somewhere in my body.

Knock Knock Knock. Jumping, I looked at my father outside of my window. Clutching my chest, trying to get my heart to stop pounding I rolled down the window. "You scared me." I rolled my eyes but all he did was chuckle. That asshole.

"Come on let's head inside, it's getting late." he pointed to his watch. Ten forty-five.

"K, I'll be right out." I replied, rolling up my window hoping he would take the hint to go and leave me alone. Ever since my last visit here I've been dreading on coming back. Almost a year ago in one week today my mother passed. My mother had died almost a year ago and it seemed to not have phased my father at all.

Breathing in and out slowly, I opened the door not ready to leave the comfort of my truck. "C'mon we'll just bring everything in tomorrow." my father said, already heading towards the front porch using his phone for a flashlight. Quickly, I did the same turning off my truck and grabbing the suitcase full of my clothes before following my father's lead towards the house.

Last time I was here I had been attacked by a wolf, and almost a pack of them as when I had stupidly dropped my keys and having to run back to get them. So bite me when I say I'm too scared to step foot outside of my truck when it was eleven at night, I was currently in the middle of nowhere, and our closest neighbors were a mile away... or did he say two? I think it was one and a half. Eh either way, I was too far away for anyone to hear me cry wolf.

Walking behind my father toward my grandparents' creepy, two story, yellow house I couldn't help but notice the moon and stars were shining bright tonight. That calmed me a little bit, knowing I would be able to see whatever came my way. But the light from the moon didn't help my fears either. The sound of a branch snapping made me jump. I shined my flashlight quickly into the woods, not finding anything to be scared of. My mind reasoned with me that it was just a branch breaking off a tree, but my shaking body said otherwise.

Turning back around towards the house I saw shadows running in front of me, and dancing against the side of the house making me scream as I the shadows looked like those of an animal or person.

As the wind started picking up, the leaves started to rustle, and the trees' started to groan, and moan like tortured souls making my pulse race faster. Don't be afraid, don't be afraid, it'll be fine, just the tree's. By the time we got to the porch I had calmed down a little after much reasoning and arguing with myself, but I still wanted to run inside and hide under my blankets as if my blankets would protect me from anything that went bump in the night. What didn't help was with every step my father and I took, the porch steps made a Creak, thump, Creak, creaaaak sound. GRRRRR. A low growl and rumble could be heard. "AHHH!! A WOLF!" I screamed and grabbed onto my father's backside.

"Get off of me pussie!" My father said trying to grab me off, but I wouldn't budge. "It was just the porch, now get off of me." He said calmly, trying not to freak me out anymore. "Taylor, I know you were traumatized last time you were here, but that doesn't mean you can't man up and face your fears." Suddenly I didn't want to be anywhere near the man. Releasing my clutches in his shirt, I took a few steps back.

"PFFT I knew that." I said trying not to let him know he got to me. "Woah, woah, woah!" I said, falling on my ass my suitcase standing up that asshole. I glared at it until my father spoke, making me look away from my staring contest with the suitcase.

"Oh my god you're so clumsy." My father turned around and helped me up.

"Sorry." I rolled my eyes, giving him sass in my 'apology' and flipping him off when he turned around. Sorry for not being the son you wanted, sorry I don't live up to your expectations. I wanted so badly to yell at him. To tell him he doesn't deserve to be my father, to tell him I didn't have a father. But instead, I balled my hands into fists, digging my nails into my skin till it hurt and there would be cresent like marks left in my palm. Picking up my phone, I dusted it off from all of the dust and dirt it collected from falling. I heard my father mumble something as he made his way to the door.

Turning my back to my father who had his phone in his armpit and was fumbling for the right key to the door, I started shining my flashlight back out into the woods to make sure nothing would attack us. After making sure nothing was going to try sneaking up behind us I turned back around, my father going to open the screen door. But before he could open it fully, the wind caught grasp of it causing it to rip out of his hands, and slamming into the wall. SCREEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE. This action made a high pitched screeching sound. Almost worse than nails on a chalkboard. Like how I imagined a banshee to screech.

"Well that needs to be oiled." My father said, appearing not to be phased by the sound at all while I covered my ears trying to get the ringing and faint headache to go away.

"Ya think?" I said sarcastically, my head throbbing.

"Well, here's home sweet home." My father said in an almost depressing tone.

Walking in behind my father, the screen door screeched shut sending another headache my way. Shining my flashlight on the walls, I scream as my light shone on the dead animal that hung from the walls. They were my grandfather's trophies. Wolves, deer, pheasants, elk, moose, bears, and anything else my grandfather had hunted hung on the walls of the halls, and living room.

Why anyone would want to show off the animals they killed I had no clue. Shuddering, I looked away from the poor, dead animals that seemingly stared into my soul with their beady eyes. Instead, I looked down at the rustic wainscot wood panels that rose from the ground and reached my waist, the other half of the wall had been painted red with black damask designs that I loved so much. "You're grandmother had pretty good taste in house decor huh?" My father said, noticing my staring.

"I'm just going to say the same answer as the last time you asked me that, yes she did but moms dad did not." I said, rolling my eyes as I referred to when we came up here for my mother's funeral. Leaving my suitcase by the door, I couldn't help but touch the wall to my right with my free hand, lifting it off as I passed the doors that interrupted the designs and seemed to have matched the wood panels as I walked down the hall for probably the hundredth time where I met my father. As I walked down the hall I noticed something I hadn't before.

There were more doors on the right wall than the left. But I figured it was due to the two archway doors in the wall that were spaced ten to twenty feet apart, the first one opened up to reveal the living room, the second opened to reveal the kitchen. Both were connected, no wall to seperate them, the dinning table the only barrier. But on the right side of the hall across from the living room, it opened to reveal another shorter hall that broke off, more doors at either side. The entirety of the house had the same type of walls with damask designs, and wainscott wood panels.

"The power box must be shut off." My father said flipping a light switch on and off rapidly with no luck of turning a light on. "Looks like you're going to have to find the basement and turn it on." I rolled my eyes. Lazy fuck.

"I bet." I rolled my eyes in irritation, trying not to let my anger get the best of me like it sometimes could. Breathing in and out I tried to calm myself down, muttering a few curse words to myself to get my anger out.

I hadn't even walked into the living room and I could already feel the beady eyes of my grandfather's dead trophies that hung on the walls of the living room. The walls in the living room had to have been my favorite. They were painted a greyish-black and had intricate gold damask designs that made out the shapes of wolves. It was absolutely beautiful, the only thing ruining it was the dead stuffed animal statues and heads that were scattered around the room.

Groaning, I entered the living room, taking extra precautions not to shine my light on the walls. Walking to the staircase to the left of the room that led up to the loft, I found the door that was built into the underneath of the staircase. The wainscot like design, making it blend into the staircase, looking as if it almost weren't even there.

"Well let's get this crap over with." I said, opening the door. A gust of stale air and dust came flying at my face, into my nose and mouth causing me to choke and cough. Staggering backwards, I covered my mouth and nose with one arm and fumbled for my inhaler. Coughing still, I couldn't breath. Gasping for air, black spots started clouding my vision as I finally grabbed my inhaler. Putting it up to my mouth I used it as quickly as possible, starting to feel myself fainting.

Leaning on the staircase wall next to the door, I took another minute for the black dots in my vision, and fatigue to go away before I even thought about going downstairs. Collecting myself together, I stood up from the wall and faced the basement. Shining my light down the stairs, I took my first step into the darkness. Descending the steps slowly, I kept my inhaler close to my mouth, using it every few steps. The farther I went, the mustier, and colder it got. The basement walls were all made of different size stones all held together by concrete, the stairs made of old wood, sagging under my weight with every step I took.

By the time I had reached the bottom, I was able to see my breath in the cold stale air. Scanning the walls with my light, I tried looking for the little green electric box that turned on and off the electricity. But instead, all I found was a ton of cobwebs, a rolling barn like door that I assumed led to another room, a few old and rotting pallets, some boxes, a water heater, what I assumed to be a pool table and a bunch of furniture underneath a bunch of tarps, mattresses leaning against the wall, and a bunch of old paint cans. Great of course the box is in the next room. I sighed, and started to walk to the door on the opposite side of the basement. I walked quickly, not wanting to be down here any longer than I wanted to.

"Hey what's taking so long?"

"AHH!" I jumped and screamed, my father scaring the shit out of me. "What the hell dad!?" I grumbled in annoyance.

"I've been waiting for five minutes for you to turn on the electric, my phones about to die and I need to charge it."

"I'm getting there, just give me a second I think it's in the next room." I clenched my teeth. Maybe if he hadn't sent me into a stale, old basement we would have our electric on by now.

"It's underneath the stairs dumbass. Don't go into that room, it's off limits." My father warned.

"Why?" I asked intrigued by the room now.

"Because I said so! Don't question me. It's falling apart, condemned, and full of dust. Don't need rocks falling from the ceiling and killing you got it?" My father asked. Not replying, and instead going to where the electric box was, my father raised his voice, "I said got it?"

"Geez, you don't have to be a dick, yes I got it I won't go into the 'condemned' room." I replied, putting extra emphasis on the word condemned.

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Thank you all for those who read, vote, and especially comment on my story! It definitely means a lot to hear feedback and what people think. I hope you enjoyed this chapter and happy 4/20- 4:20!! 🥳🥳
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