This is a one shot thing, so hope you enjoy.
Tonight is going to be an epic night. We are in my cousin's condo in Florida and are about to leave for dinner. The whole family is going, and it is going to be a blast. It is the middle of August, but the rolling waves keep us cool. My turquoise dress clings to my legs as I drink the lemonade that Nana had made for my cousins and me. Of course, the adults weren't going to drink it, at least not in their right minds. That's because it's not sugar free. What is the point of having lemonade if it's going to be healthy? Right, it's just wrong. It's just one of those things like dogs not having tails. Anyway, I am going to fill you in with some important info. Pippy Longstocking was the daughter of a pirate. My Aunt Trisha absolutely adored Pippy Longstocking when she was little, and I really think she still does. Kind of random, but today is Aunt Trisha's birthday, so we all sang happy birthday to her, and just between you and me, she snuck some of that lemonade.
All of us are in the car, and my Aunt Trisha suddenly says, "Isn't Pippy Longstocking's house nearby"
"Yes," my uncle mumbled back, tired of his wife's positive energy beaming at him twenty-four seven. "Do you want to stop by and get a QUICK picture?" hinting that we weren't going exploring.
"Of course," exclaims Aunt Trisha with a bit of child in her voice, ok a lot.
So, the car takes a right turn, and a left turn, and then another right turn, and many more that would take forever to say. I almost fall asleep when the car practically flies off the ground, and my head hits the cold glass with a bang! Everyone turns to look and see if I am ok, and I nod my head but can still feel the dizziness in my head when Aunt Trisha suddenly shouts, "We are here, at last!"
"Why don't you hop out of the car and take a picture," says Uncle Ken with a weary look in his eyes
Aunt Trisha jumps out of the car, her perfect, blond hair falling along her back in a dead, straight line. She whips out her Sony camera before I can say my own name, not that I have the actual strength to do that. When she takes the first picture, it doesn't turn out because she doesn't have enough light, so Uncle Ken reluctantly shines the car headlights on the small, white house. There is something about that house that I just don't like. Maybe it's the figure of a woman in the doorway. Her thin, white nightgown cling to her body and her eyes stare emptily at us.
Several thoughts run through my mind. At first I think, "It's an ordinary, everyday crazy lady, nothing to worry about." That is until I see that the lady is shaking a large knife in her hand. What is that on the end of it? It looks like spaghetti sauce. Uh, oh I think. All of us shout at the same time, "Get in the car Trisha!" But no, Aunt Trisha has to stay a second longer, which by the way seems like an hour, and snap a picture of the wacky lady on the front porch.
Everyone is quiet until, "Mommy, the weird lady is chasing us" Sure enough, I look out the back of the car and the lady is running at us with her blood- stained knife. Not just you know, jogging but running about let's say, 20 miles an hour. So my Uncle Ken hits the gas. My heart beats inside, my ribcage barely holding it in. Several thoughts race through my head. Like, "This is not one of the ways I intend on dying" I mean, you can't really choose how you want to die, but being stabbed by a crazy, old lady doesn't seem so good to anyone, especially to everyone in this 2003 Volts Wagon. Uncle Ken doesn't untense until we are physically in the parking garage.
In the condo everyone sighs with relief at the terrifying experience that we have just been through. Aunt Trisha gets out her camera and nearly faints, but luckily she has a glass of water in her hand. Everyone rushes over and there is a chorus of, "Wow" and "What the...?" But nobody seems to finish their sentences. I walk over slowly, not so confident in my ability to stay conscious. I peer over Nick's shoulder and see the white house, but something's missing.
We humans think that a picture tells a thousand words and it is always right. But no words seem to be coming out, so how can it be worth a thousand words? Anyway, I'll just tell you about the picture. All that is in the picture is the little house of Pippy Longstocking with the window curtains waving and a dark shadow on the doorstep. Then I peer down to the front steps. There, lying on the ground was a knife, and red dripping from the pointed tip.
If you liked it, please review. I'm not sure if I should make a chapter 2 or not.