Fucking great, this is it isn't it? I thought to myself as I lugged my suitcase up the stairs in our new home. "Isn't it great!?" chimed my mother, as if she could read my mind. She twirled around in her heels as if she was Dorothy Gale swirling around on the yellow brick road. God bless her heart. As soon as she realized I didn't answer, she looked straight at me with her blue eyes aimed and ready to shoot. "Well?" She asked. "It's…" I gaze around the historic house, "got character." Her reaction soon changed from Dorothy Gale to the Wicked Witch, "character? That's it? We move to this wonderful home and all you say is" before she could finish her sentence a knock at the door stops her.
We both just stare at the door as if it were some strange foreign object. The knocks continue until the door is swung open and a woman in floral dress enters. "Why hello dears." Her southern accent practically fills the room along with her strong perfume. "I'm Constance, your new neighbor." She stands in our doorway holding a chocolate cake and a pack of cigarettes in the other,judging us both. "Oh! Hello! I'm Abigail and this is my son Peter." She turns around and rushes me over to greet the strange woman, but of course not before pinching my back. It's a habit of ours, she pinches my back when I hunch over. My mother believes in manners above all else, a straight back has no place for her gay son. "Thank you for coming over, um what was your name again?" The blonde woman rolls her eyes at my mother as she walks up to her and shoves the cake into her hands. I could see myself falling in love with this woman. "My name is Constance Langdon." She walks past us and examines the house, although the way she walks through the halls she walks as if searching for something. My mother turns to me and gives me a look as if I'm supposed to protect her from this sassy southern woman. What the fuck do you want me to do? Ask her if she'd marry me? She nudges me to go confront her. "Um..Constance can we help you with something?" I ask her with fear in my voice. Constance stops her search and turns back around, stopping to look at me. "Hmmm" The only sound she lets leave her lips as she examines me from top to bottom. "You're a flamer aren't you?" She says with a smirk, as if she solved a riddle no one could solve. The second Constance asked me the taboo of all questions my mother ran up to her, "Constance, as you can see we are very busy! We just moved in…" Constance interrupted her, "What do you do? If you don't mind me asking, I've just always been the curious type." My mother obliviously wasn't expecting her reaction, but as the mild-mannered woman that she is she answered, "I'm a psychic. I can tell the future." Constance didn't even blink, which is odd due to the fact that the last person she told she was a psychic called her the "She-devil! You'll burn for working with the dark arts!" The person she told was our landlord and we soon moved afterwards. "A psychic? Well you've certainly come to the right place for your magic" She uttered while twirling her fingers as if to cast a spell herself. My mother offended answered, "It's not magic, but thank you for bringing over this cake." Constance once again interrupted by going around my mother and flocked towards me, as if a vulture stalking prey. Her eyes gazing upon me, seemingly staring into my soul, ignoring my mother as she explained her psychic abilities while trying to politely getting her ass out of our house. "Well!" Constance giggled and made her way towards the door, "I'm sorry for barging in but I thought I'd bring this over and welcome you." She smiled a generous grin and turned on her heels and left. "Peter, what was that?" My mother asked me with confusion, "Hell if I know. But I do know that I'll take this cake!" I grabbed the cake from her hands and ran towards the kitchen. Leaving my mother standing at the door, still wondering what the hell just happened.
As I rush to the kitchen, all thoughts to devour this cake, I stop in my tracks with the presence of another being in the room with me. "Who the hell are you!?" I yell as an attempt to seem manly, even though I'm pretty sure my expression is an I just crapped my pants sort of look. The strange boy in front of me is gorgeous, dirty blonde hair just like James Dean, with pale skin that almost appears as if translucent. He looks at me with such rage that I can't move, I'm stuck in one spot not being able to look away from his gaze. He moves closer towards me, steps so quiet the floor boards no longer squeak at his steps. I feel my breath getting harder as his face gets closer towards mine. "What what…do you want?" are the only words I can muster up as the boy gets closer. He stares into my eyes and towers over me, his tall frame is nothing compared to my measly 5'6''. He inches closer, I look down as preparations for the worst. I don't dare look up at the creature whose so close I can feel his breathe on me. The boy places his hands on the side of my face, ice cold to the touch. I still don't move, I'm going to die. I'm going to die by fucking Edward Cullen. I feel his body move and his face inches towards my ear, his breathe just as cold as his hand. As I take my, assumed, last breath of life he whispers softly into my ear,
"Boo".