Ghostly Summer

"Bye Lilly, darling! Have a great summer!" My mother called from the car as she and my father made a break for it.

I watched their porche go as far as it could, then turn a corner onto the highway.
My blonde, stringy hair whipped around my thick, black glasses and I pulled it up into a messy bun. Sighing loudly, I slung my green duffle bag over my shoulder and turned to face my great summer villa. Not.

I was sure my glasses were fogging because of the early morning mist, but no. They were as clean as they could get. My Aunt Mable's "wonderful cottage," as my parents had put it, was a off-white, broken down, two story nightmare. It's brown shutters were partially broken and it's hinges creaked in the soft wind. The paint was peeling from the outside and I could tell that the wallpaper inside wasn't going to be any better. It's tiled roof has some missing pieces, and I bet my new room was going to have a sky-light. Aunt Mable use to be a gardener, from what I had heard, but she had really let her yard go. It's grass wasn't visable through the thick forest of weeds and knots of un-trimmed shrubs.

I made my way up the broken concrete pathway and stumbled on one of my untied shoelaces. I bent down to tie the converses, when I heard a low moan, and a sharp creek as my Aunt opened her front door. There she was. My great Aunt Mable. What a wonderful first impression she gave to me. Again, not really!

Her tight pursed lips rubbed back and forth against each other as she inspected me, as I was her. She was wearing a dull muumuu and bunny slippers to match, (except one had an eye missing.) Her messy grey hair was pulled into a bun at the nape of her neck. I tentatively touched my less disturbed bun and, my thicker than her's, glasses.

"Hello, Lilly," she said. Not in a nice-great-aunt way, more like an aquaintance kind of way.

"Hello Aunt Mable," I said, standing up and dusting off my ripped jeans, and straightened my black shirt.

She turned abrubtly inside without another word and I stood there for a few seconds until I relized that I was suppose to follow. Inside, the air was damp, and, as I had guessed, the old floral wallpaper was peeling off of the walls. Dusty, broken, old furniture was scattered through the house, and the flickering light in the living room was quite annoying.

Aunt Mable shuffled up the creaky stairs and opened the door into my room. There was a small iron cot in the corner, also a desk and a small dresser in another. The green striped wallpaper was dusty and the white sheets were freshly folded on my bed.

"I hope you'll find everything to your liking, Lilly." Aunt Mable said, opening the frilly pink curtains.

"Oh yes, its...quite nice," I said, dropping my duffle bag on the bed, sending a cloud of dust into the air.

As I coughed and fanned my face, Aunt Mable instructed me on the rules of the house.

"The bathroom is across the hall, and my room is just a few doors down. There's the study door, which is always open, and then there is my private room." She said, her hard green eyes pierced into my skin. "Do not go into my private room, Lilly. I can guarantee you that nothing in their will interest you." And with that, she left the room, moomoo and all.

What's in that room? I wondered. Probably some thing's of Uncle Frank's.

Uncle Frank was Aunt Mable's second husband. I never heard much of, or ever met her first. He was a tall man with a white mustashe and white fluffy hair. He came to my communion, and that was the first time I had ever met him. After that, a few months passed and he had died of a invisable disease. I had heard my father talking about it with his relatives when he had died.

"Yes, Judy and I will be attending her mother's brother's funeral tommorrow." My father had said into the phone. "No, sis. I really don't want to go, but it would be nice for Judy to see her aunt. Even Lilly hasn't met her aunt yet, even though we're not taking her to the funeral."

When they came home that night, and the baby-sitter had left, I heard them talking when I was suppose to be asleep.

"Why wasn't Mable there?" My mother wondered as she opened up the bed's sheets.

"She was probably too depressed to go, but your mother didn't look to happy." Dad had said, turning on the bathroom sink.

When I came back to reality, I unpacked my bag and read from my summer reading of Romeo and Juliet.

When Aunt Mable had gone to the store to buy chinese food, I had suguesting taking off her slippers and robe, but she went into her old car without a fuss.

Alone in the house, I had felt weird, like Aunt Mable hadn't really left after all. I checked all the corners and little dusty spider webs for video cameras. (Even in the shower, incase she was a pervert.) I had returned to the living room without finding any electronics, besides the black and white TV and old computer. Until my Aunt had returned I had watched old I Love Lucy re-runs and red more of my summer book.

Dinner was quite awkward and quiet. I kept waiting for a conversation starter, but nothing happened. I kept brushing back my blonde bangs and adjusting my thick glasses. Aunt Mable slowly ate her pork rolls and listened...Not for me...but for something else. She kept on cocking her head and asked me if I said anything.

A couple of times, she excused herself and went upstairs. I heard her footsteps go up and down, up and down, the bunny slipper's pit pattering on the hard wooden floors. I think she went into the forbidden room... what was she keeping in there?