When Push Comes to Shove

It was a dark and stormy night. Haven’t you always wanted to start telling a story with that oh-so-cliché line at the beginning? I know I have. And this time it’s actually justified because, well it was a dark and stormy night. So dark and stormy in fact that even with the windshield wipers on full blast and driving at a leisurely pace, my dad was still having trouble seeing where he was going. It didn’t help at all that we were halfway across the country from anywhere we could call even remotely familiar.

Thanks a lot dad.

Maybe I should back up. My name is Zoe Phelps, and the only reason I happened to be in this god-awful car in a thunderstorm is because my dad decided we were moving. Why he chose to move in April, one of the crappiest months for weather all year I have no idea. It was inevitable I suppose. Any job opportunity that allowed him to put an entire continent between himself and his ex-wife was a gift from the Lord himself.

And so that is how I ended up in the middle of rural Washington State, with torrents of rain pummeling our poor little Ford Escort. They say that it rains here more than any other state, and they are right. Ever since we had crossed the border, a steady flood of water had been raining down on us from the heavens.

"Our new house better have a paved driveway, I’m not ruining my new pair of sneakers in nasty, sticky Washington mud." I thought morosely.

I was more than a little pessimistic about our current situation. For one thing, the moving day had come so quickly that I barely had any time to tell my friends goodbye and spend some much needed time with them before I left. For another, I hated the rain. Moisture plus my hair equals frizz. Every morning you could find me in a desperate wrestling match with it, something my dad finds quite amusing. Some days were better than others but bottom line rain completely foils any attempt I have made to tame it for the day. Moving to the rainiest state in America means that my daily wrestling match is about to get a lot more intense. I sighed and looked at my sodden curls in the rear view mirror. What used to be chestnut brown waves that gracefully fell to my shoulder blades was now a frizzy mess, reminding me suspiciously of a rat nest. First impressions are everything, and mine was going to include the abomination sitting on top of my head. I could just see our new neighbors' faces now, all drawn up and disdainful.

“We must be getting close by now! I hope I didn’t miss the exit…” Dad mumbled out loud.

"God I hope not..." I thought to myself. We’d been driving through this gale for almost four hours, which is about how long he said it would take to make the last leg of the journey.

"Here it is! The south two-hundred and fifty sixth street, Covington Washington. We’re almost there Zoe! Aren’t you excited?!” Clearly not as excited as you, it seems...

After a tense fifteen minutes of navigating through what seemed like a forest, I came to realize that we were actually in the suburbs. They weren’t kidding when they say Washingtonians are concerned about the environment. Trees were everywhere, obscuring most of the view of houses from the road, adding to the spooky feeling that the thunderstorm had already provided. It was kind of neat really. I had come from Kansas, breadbasket of the US, and I don’t think I had ever seen so many trees in one place except on television. I secretly hoped that our new house would have as many trees as the ones we were passing. Suddenly my Dad let out a whoop of excitement and turned off the main road and into a driveway.

The house was gorgeous.

Since it was only my Dad and I who would be living there, he had decided that we didn’t need a huge house, but the lack of size took nothing from the houses appeal. It was nestled in a clearing surrounded by trees, much like the other houses in the area. A paved driveway led clear up to the porch, with a detached garage to the right. Two stories tall, it was painted a beautiful shade of sea green, which both brightened the house in comparison to its wooded surroundings, and blended with the greenery of the forest. The porch was made of sturdy stone masonry, with pillars at the corners that supported what looked like a bedroom above the porch. My eyes wandered to the beautiful loft window above, and my heart caught in my throat. For just a moment, I could have sworn that I saw what looked like the angry face of a boy. It was gone as soon as it came though, and my rational mind quickly blamed it on the heavy rain.

“Like it?” My Dad asked knowingly.

“Love it!” I replied with enthusiasm, “I call the bedroom above the porch.” My Dad gave a sigh of defeat.

“I was hoping that could be my room. But I thought you might say that. And since you’ve been so good about this whole thing… you know, dragging you out here away from all your friends and all…” I beamed and leaped into his arms for an embrace. “Your stuff has already been moved up there. I had our stuff shipped beforehand. The movers have already been here.” With a squeal of delight I jumped out of his arms and headed straight for the front door. Maybe this wouldn’t be so bad. I opened the door with my newly acquired house key and stepped into my new home. The entrance hall was painted a pleasing shade of light yellow, and had vaulted ceilings. In front of me was a set of stairs leading up, and to the left of the foyer I could see an archway that must lead to the living room because I could see the couch sitting inside. To the right was probably the kitchen and dining room, but I would have time to explore all that later. I headed to the stairs and examined their fine craftsmanship. It was obvious from the expensive looking handiwork that the previous owners hadn't settled for less, and had probably customized the entire house. That's the way to go if you ask me. Some houses can be so boring, especially when they look exactly the same as all the other houses around them. This house was different. The staircase was crafted from a rich, dark wood with amusing spiral designs carved into the entire length of it. I definitely wouldn’t be able to slide down this banister. I made my way upstairs, admiring this and that. When I made it to the top of the landing, I did a quick 180 around the banister and stood facing the door to my new bedroom over the porch. I got an eerie feeling in the pit of my stomach, but after a moments hesitation I opened the door to investigate.

It was just as beautiful as I imagined. Directly across from the door I could see out the enormous loft window that overlooked the front yard. I could see my Dad stooped over inside the car, looking for his glasses. On the right side of the room was a giant set of closet doors that took up most of the wall. My bed had been placed against the wall under the window, and my bookshelf was placed on the only bare wall to the left, along with my desk. Boxes full of my stuff were stacked haphazardly about the room.

After I had drunk in the beauty of my new bedroom, I busied myself with putting away the stuff that was in the boxes. Most of them were full of books or clothes, occasionally knick knacks or various decorations like posters and lamps, strings of Christmas lights and throw pillows. All of my necessities like deodorant and stuff had come with me directly in a small backpack that in my excitement I had forgotten in the car. I stacked my books neatly in the bookshelf and heaped my clothes onto the bed; I still hadn’t found my hangers. I had been working for a while when my Dad popped his head around the corner.
“Having fun?” he asked with a smile. Gosh, does he ever stop smiling? Only when mom is around…

“You know it! I am just loving that I get to spend my first rainy Friday evening in my new town unpacking boxes.” I replied. He laughed at my sarcasm and set my backpack in the doorway.

“You know that I don’t care if your room is full of boxes. A room should reflect the owner, and if the owner is messy, it would seem weird if their room was clean, don’t you think? Why don’t you take the car and get us some Chinese food or something? I forgot that we have pretty much nothing in the fridge.” I considered his proposal. It would give me a chance to see the city, if you could call it that, and maybe find some cool teenagers like me.

“Sure. But I want to hang up my clothes first. I need to have clean clothes at least. I’ll go as soon as I’ve found my hangers.” Dad gave a quick nod of approval before he disappeared again, presumably to unpack his own room.

I opened another box and found my computer and some other electronics I couldn’t live without, and busied myself again with putting everything in its rightful place. I set my laptop on the desk along with some of its accessory cables. I turned around and was about to open another box when there was a sudden thud behind me. I whirled around to see the power cable for my laptop on the floor. The face of that angry boy I thought I had seen flashed across my mind but always the rational one my brain quickly dismissed it. Of course there wasn’t a ghost in my room, that’s preposterous. I just didn’t set the cable down properly, it probably rolled over and then fell off the desk. Stuff like that happens all the time, right?

Right.

I picked it up and placed it on the desk, making sure it was stable before turning around again.

Thud.

Most people would be scared at this point, but I was not easily swayed to believe in something that I thought to be nonsense. I left the power cable and stubbornly ignored it, choosing instead to open another box. Hallelujah! Hangers! I grabbed a stack and began to thrust t-shirts on to them. When I had finished with the stack I turned and opened the closet door.

And there he was.

I could see him as clearly as if he was really there, solid and in color. He couldn’t have been more than 16 or 17, and he wore a scowl on his face that terrified me. I stood there in shock for a second before his hands shot out at me and I flew backwards out of the closet and onto the floor. His eyes blazed down at me and I heard a steely voice say, “Get out.” His eerie threat sounded distorted, like I was hearing it through water. After I hit the floor my eyes shot to the closet doorway in disbelief. The empty doorway. I scanned the room quickly, refusing to believe that someone who had just shoved me with enough power to knock me backwards could simply disappear. I checked under the bed, in the closet, and under the desk.

Nothing. Absolutely nothing.

Highly unnerved, I left the room in a hurry, dashing down the stairs and out the door, almost forgetting to grab the keys on the table the moving crew must have put in the foyer. I yelled a quick goodbye to my dad, wherever he was, and was only too happy to be driving away from that creepy house. I stole a quick glance back at the house, and my heart leaped into my throat once again when I saw his face in the window, glaring down at me, as if to say, “That’s right, you weren’t hallucinating.”

God help me, my house is haunted.