***Author's note***
As a matter of fact, this entire story line came from a dream I had a few nights back. Names of real people (like me) have been changed for their own protection. Otherwise, all original characters belong to me, blah blah Beetlejuice blah Lydia blah Tim Burton…you get the picture.
***
The landscape progressively changed from lush, enclosing forest to windswept seaside plains as I stared out the window.
"So tell me again why we're going up here?" I demanded of my mother. She had informed me this morning that we had been invited to visit an old house called "The Chateaux", a small bungalow situated on a cliff overlooking the frigid Atlantic in upstate Pennsylvania. An old friend of hers owned the house and felt they needed to get in touch.
"I told you, she's giving us a tour of the house because she thinks it will be a fun time for the both of us. I have to leave early, but she seemed especially excited to meet you, so you'll have to be polite while I run some errands," she explained matronly from behind the wheel.
We turned a corner and I noticed a half-split oak tree. My mom started the car up a long, empty, gravel and dirt drive leading up to a decrepit, wasted house on the precipice of the cliffs.
"Kind of a misleading name, isn't it?" I commented.
She shrugged and continued onward.
I sighed aloud and unbuckled my seatbelt. This was going to be no picnic. I could envision it now: teetering piles of junk looming over ever entryway, peeling wallpaper, creaking doors, and what once was a nice back veranda now gone to seed, under which lone cats took refuge with whatever wildlife they happened to have killed in the past few minutes.
We approached and although there were no cats, all of my other premonitions were correct. Stepping out of the car, I prayed silently that the inaccessible balcony over the front porch wouldn't suddenly detach and from the main structure and collapse on our heads.
My mom knocked on the thin door. Suddenly, it was flung open and we peered into the dusty darkness beyond.
A young woman, of middle height and black hair, stood greeting us. Her hair was pulled into a gravity-defying ponytail atop her head, adorned with all sorts of strange pins and berets, making her look very eccentric. She wore a dark-colored dress and copious amounts of makeup around her eyes.
"Hey!" she exclaimed. I've been waiting all morning; I thought you guys had gotten lost!"
She sounded like she was college-age, but if she was a friend of my mother's, I knew she couldn't possible be that young.
"Well, come on in and sit down. Lemonade?"
We entered gingerly, evading towers of books and the foot of a huge bureau stuffed with leather-bound volumes. I took refuge on an under-stuffed plaid couch, drawing my knees up to my chin and wrapping my hands around my lower legs, holding them tight. I didn't really do this for security as much as I did it to ensure that some mouse didn't clamber up my pant legs.
"So…" my mom started. "Right. This is my daughter, Lira. Lira, I'd like you to meet Mrs. Deetz."
"Lydia. Call me Lydia. Mrs. Deetz is my mother," she laughed.
Something in the back of my mind stirred, but I pushed it away with the claim of coincidence.
