June 2000

Change is always difficult. Having to move from town to town with my family was so common that I learned to just deal with it at this point. My father worked for the F.B.I. and was working on following some major case. A Ted Bundy like character decided to take his crimes from state to state like a traveling show. Unfortunately my father had become an expert on this psycho and was asked to travel wherever they had evidence of the killer showing up. For the last 5 years we have been moving from the west coast to the east coast with this killer slipping from my fathers grasp every time. Now here we were in Mountain Park, Georgia from all the way in Santa Fe. Honestly with the way this killer was working, I think he was purposely staying in hot places just to personally piss me off. Why not kill a person in Washington or Alaska? I need to go somewhere cooler before I literally melt. Thankfully since it's summer I don't have to once again make that awkward transition in the middle of the school year. Thanks Mr. Psycho Killer!

Unlike all previous locations this house was the nicest. It reminded me of the house from that movie Beetlejuice. It was apparently my grandmother's house. I've never been here before though. Anytime we would see my grandma Constance it was when she came to visit us in our original Virginia home. She promised that one day she would take us here but never lived to see the day. Being here I could now see why she loved this house so much because it was beautiful. The house was colonial style and painted a light shade of blue. It sat atop a hill that looked over the nearby homes and a small lake that ran behind it. Perfect for my father, the King of Paranoia. Now he can ease drop on all the neighbors! I picture it now, daddy in the attic setting up his telescope. Hopefully we don't encounter any vengeful ghost in this ancient house although I wouldn't mind meeting Beetlejuice. At least there is potential to make friends or have something exciting happen with a haunted house.

Sitting on the railing of the wrap around porch I looked out at or new neighborhood. Gathered by the the gate, hiding amongst the trees were three boys around my age trying to get a glimpse of the new neighbors. One of them seemed to notice me and started to point at me. When I saw that they were all looking I waved at them politely. They seemed surprised for a moment but waved back.

"Angel!Get off your butt and grab a box!" My mother yelled from the house. Sighing I walked to the tons of boxes in our new yard as the moving trucks pulled out. Not too far behind them was my father closing the gate. As I walked to one of the boxes something soft collided with the side of my head. Looking down I saw my old stuffed horse by my feet. A few feet away my older brother by one year, Wayne, was trying in vain to hid his laughter. Picking up the horse I ran at him and tackled him to the ground and smushed the toy in his face. We rolled around in the dirt for a few minutes until my mother came clomping over. Emphasis on clomp because almost all my mothers movements were harsh. From the way she walks to the crushing grip she has on her pencils. One time she got so mad when she saw my room that she crushed the glass in her hand.

"Grab a fuckin' box!" she shouted pulling us up by the collars of our shirts. With a light shove she directed us to the boxes. As I grabbed some of my stuff I glanced at the gate where I knew those boys were only to see that they had left. I just shrugged it off and made my way the house with Wayne, who was hit in the head with my horse by our mother.

"Pay back's a bitch." I sang

"Shut up.


Riding my bike with my friends we saw several moving trucks, a mini Van, and a black Lincoln town car. Since Mountain Park was a small town with less than 600 people, almost nothing was secret. It was no secret that someone was moving into the house on the hill. Everyone knew the old lady Constance that used to live up there. Constance was a sweet woman and even bought me ice-cream once when I was younger. Daddy didn't like it and made me throw it out. He said we don't take hand outs form no niggers. He's gone though since I was twelve so there wasn't anything that he could do. For a while I was able to go there whenever Merle was away or in jail, which Constance didn't mind because she always happy to have company. Unfortunately Constance died about three years ago in that house. Family gave her a nice funeral in Virginia, her home state, from what I've heard. Since then I would ride my bike up there occasionally just to see how the place was holding up but other than that I haven't been in that house since I was fourteen.

"Hey man, lets get a look at these people!" my friend Keith said. These people had been the talk of the town for the last week so everyone was clearly curious. Me and our other friend Ellis immediately agreed and set off to see what these people were like. When we arrived the trucks were already being unloaded and the yard was filled with boxes. A tall black man with salt n' pepper hair walked into the house with and armful of stuff in hand. Not to far behind him was a shorter but still tall black woman carrying a box labeled bedroom, she had long wavy hair pulled into a low ponytail. They looked to be in their late thirties to early forties.

"Those must be the new owners." Ellis pointed out, "Think they related to the old lady."

"You'd know wouldn't you Daryl." Keith said.

"Constance did say something about a son in the F.B.I. Said he was always traveling too." Mulling over that bit of info we all assumed that the man must have been her son.

"Look there." Keith pointed at the porch, "That must be their daughter." Leaning on the railing was a young girl that looked to be my age. She had medium brown skin, looked to be tall like her parents, and her hair was in a chin length bob with bangs. The girl wore a pair of cutoff short that highlighted her long legs. Her shirt was the same shade of brown like her skin with a smiling sun on her chest. The girl must have noticed us by the gate because she smiled and waved at us. Taken aback we just stared for a moment.

"Wave!" Keith whispered harshly. And we did. Granted it was a really stiff awkward wave we still waved.

"Angel!" a voice who we assumed was 'Angel's' mother shouted, "Get off your butt and grab a box!"

Angel sighed and walked of the porch and the boxes. Once she got there boy who looked older than the girl tossed a plush horse at her head. The boy looked like the older man from before. Soon the two were on the ground wrestling and laughing.

"I wonder if they'll be going to our school next year." Ellis chimed. I just shrugged and turned back to my bike. Now that we've seen the neighbors we decided to go back into town and get something to eat. The rest of the day my mind would drift back to the girl on the porch, Angel indeed. I would just envision her that moment she was walking across the yard. The way her hair would bounce with each stride, the way her round hips would sway. An Angel indeed.