Chapter One

For as long as I could remember, my family was always haunted by secrets. Even when my Great Uncle Steven released a book that told many, no one wanted to acknowledge them. Instead, we kept our silence.

I was in my Great-aunt Theo's house, looking through her Library when I first stumbled upon my Great Uncle's book, "The Haunting of Hill House". The cover was worn and the pages smelled moldy. Possibly from years of being untouched. My curiosity got the better of me as I remember sneaking it into my bag.

It took only a day to read it from cover to cover. The story was one I remembered my grandfather, Luke, telling me many times. About the girl from the woods. About how a house, a mere structure made of brick and wood, manipulated my great-grandmother into committing suicide. How in one night everything my family knew had changed.

What the book didn't talk about was after. How years later the house would claim not only my Great Aunt Nelly, whom I'm named after, but my great-grandfather. Still, the days came and went. The months turned into years, and I soon found myself back at my Great-aunt Theo's, holding the same copy of my great uncle's book as I sit in the parlor full of people all dressed in black. I cry even though inside I'm angry. In these last few years I had grown closer to my Uncle Steve. He heard of my interest in the background of Crain Manor, formerly Hill House, and decided to help me research for my college paper. I wanted to breathe new life into these old Fables. Show the others in my family that that was all they were... tales of misfortune.

The parlor had many people who I recognized and many more that I hadn't. They must be his fans. Why else would any random person want to attend Stephen Crain's funeral? It wasn't as though he had done any profound thing for the community. He told "ghost stories", nothing more. Then again, I was the one sitting on the couch holding a book that was really nothing more than my ghost story.

"Hey Kiddo." I looked up, dried my eyes and put on the fakest smile I could possibly dredge up. I didn't need to hide anything from my grandfather, he knew me probably better than my own parents. I welcomed his hug especially today.

"Gramps." My voice cracked, giving me away.

"Are your parents coming?" He asked. "I tried to get in touch with your father but..."

"Yeah, I doubt it." I replied. My parents began distancing themselves years ago from the Crain name. My father always thought it brought trouble, and really who could blame him. First, he stopped the phone calls and then he changed his last name. I always thought that last bit was a little too dramatic.

Still, looking at the hurt in my grandfather's eyes I couldn't help but feel for him. I had seen growing up how hard he worked to be supportive of my dad. To have your own child disowned you was a sign of failure, and my grandfather never took failure well. I grabbed his hands and squeezed. Hopefully to bring him back. It's strange, but I always felt as though I could transfer a positive energy just by touching. My Great-aunt Theo would always say how I'm certainly a Crain woman. Lord knows what that must have meant.

I made sure my eyes met his and with them a reassurance that he was not alone. "Screw them. I'm here."

"This is a surprisingly good turn out." My great-aunt Theo said as she walked over to our pow-wow in the corner. The years never seem to show for her. She was still as jaw-dropping gorgeous as the old photos I've seen of her in my auntie Shirley's attic. Her dirty little drinking habit was also still very alive and kicking. I always admired her way of speaking her mind, and this time was certainly no different. She wasn't going to let a little death get in the way of her strong thoughts towards her big brother. "Who knew Steve was on so many people's good side?"

"I think it's the writer thing." I replied, "A big name like his is bound to bring quite a crowd." I had spoken to a few people already and they were all there simply because they "loved his work."

She took a sip of her glass that already looked as though it had been filled quite a few times. The sip lingered in the back of her mouth for a moment before she finally swallowed. "Nell, my dear, you are probably right. We are forever just a show to people thanks to that stupid book." She pointed to the copy that I had forgotten was still in my hands.

"Theo." My grandfather began, "Not today."

"Of course not. I wouldn't want to ruin another Crain funeral."

"That's not-"

"I know." She sniped, "I know. I'll behave. He doesn't deserve it; but I'll behave." She kissed my cheek, took another Sip and continued on her way. The hostesses job was never done, and I was once again left with the awkwardness that had been justifying my parents absence.

I wanted very badly to change the topic and so I said the first thing that popped into my head. "Was she always like that?" I felt the regret surge through me even as the words escaped my lips. Especially since I already knew the answer. Yes. Yes she had.

It was time to change the topic again before my grandfather could give me his "You really know better than to ask" face that I always loathed. "Any chance you think Aunty Leigh would let me dig through Uncle Steve's office?" I still had my paper to write and if that meant having to go looking for the notes, I guess that was what was going to have to happen.

"I don't see why not."

We both looked across the room to wear my Aunt Leigh sat on a chair, her face wet and red from a recent burst of tears. Her eyes avoiding everyone else's. She looked completely alone in her own grief.

"But maybe wait to ask."

It destroyed me to see her by herself a stranger's came over and offered their condolences. Every time I saw her at something she was always in control. She always had a confidence and reassurance to give people. Now looking at her she just seemed lost. I could just feel a screaming energy coming from her and knew that she shouldn't be left alone. "I'm going to go sit with her."

There was no disagreement. My Grandfather clearly felt it as well and completely understood.

As I approached something caught me off-guard out of the corner of my eye. A stunning woman in a blue dress and not a dark blue but a cheerful blue. A very odd color to be wearing to a funeral. Now to think of it, the color is what caught my eye more than anything else. I vaguely remember having seen that particular woman before, but for some reason the memory is not coming to me. I turned trying to quickly get a glimpse of her but she was gone.

I continued over to my Aunt Leigh & took the seat next to hers. She still avoided the looks, but I didn't need her to look at me for me to understand what she was feeling. She began to shake again as another wave of tears hit her. I took her hand into mine and felt the pain. My chest began to feel heavy and my heart pounded even harder and deeper as all I began to feel was sorrow. I allowed it to consume me. If I was able to take even this much of her pain away I was going to allow it to consume me.

We sat like that for the rest of the service. Hand in hand.