I was never one to believe my mother.
I knew when she said a few hours, she meant days. I mean, I loved my mother, but not her job. She gave out illegal papers and ID's to illegal men a jail runaways. Mostly were Jail Refugees. There was always that fear, that my mother would be caught. They were likely to do more then just throw her in jail. I knew when she left that door, her life was put to risk.
She kisses my head and grabs her purse off the coffee table. Her now full coffee was finished with one big gulp. She thanks me for making the coffee. She puts on her high heeled red booth, and heads out the door.
That was the last time I saw her.
I never remembered how she died. Or what I just knew she had stab wounds all over her stomach.
I was having that dream. The same dream that haunted me the first night, and the next and every after the day after my mothers death. But I never got to see who was behind the cloak. If only I could pull down the cloak. The police told me as well as my councilor is that I know who is behind the cloak. It was just covered from shock.
I was determined to find my mothers killer.
It always begun the same.
"One two, tie my shoe.
Three, four, open the door
five, six, pick up sticks…"
But it would stop there.
It would get mysterious. The smoke filled everywhere. It was fuzzy. Steam piled up. I could feel my heart is where the real terror begins. My mother started screaming. I ran into the old, abandoned, rusty 2 roomed house. My mother lay their screaming. The cloaked person raised their knife up.
Just a few more inches now.
My hand reached and reached, until…
I yanked it down. The person turned around.
I was staring at them.
Then I realized who I was staring at after a moment…..
I was staring at me.
With a blank face, I throw random items into my bag and exit the house. I turned around before I entered my truck. I waved at the house goodbye as a lone, stray tear rolls down my face. I climb not my truck. I drive off, never looking back.
Forks Times
Today we celebrate the 150th anniversary of Swan Residence. This popular attraction to tourists is said to be haunted by a lone girl, wandering around on this day, searching for her lost mother. It is said that she moans over her loss, looking for her soul, haunting anyone who tries to buy her house…
As Charlie Swan reads the paper about his grandparents, no one notices the white blur at the Swan residence window.