Julian and Daisy: The Ghost and the Girl

Chapter 1: Daisy

           

It's a fine Sunday morning. I gaze to the window aside from the newspaper, as a little streak of sun strikes through the window curtains. The weather looks fair. The house is entirely peaceful and quiet.

Well, at least since mom is currently out, running some errands—buying some groceries with Wayne. Wayne has always been the child that likes to tag mom along wherever she goes.

Mom often asks Wayne instead of me to go run some errands. "Wayne, you comin'?"

We've been in this new house for what, barely a week? But I don't seem to mind. It's a two-story old mansion. But damn, the house is ridiculously spacious—at least 1500 sqm wide. There are some rooms and spaces that are still locked away, which mom said they would soon be taken care of. God, it's huge and God, it's freezing here. With hard wooden walls and floors all covered in maroon rug. Old photographs, mostly paintings hang heavy on the concrete walls. The staircase is curved—making the house looks fancy. There's also a stair going down to the attic, which is still locked. The smell is old and dull and it's rather eerie to be walking down the hall all by myself. Regardless of them all, I'd have to get used to this.

The staircase makes up a creaking noise every time I step on it, and it has a dent on the mid-level staircase to warn you to be more careful if you ever decide to run the stairs. But overall, the house is impeccable. It makes you feel nostalgic as if you live in a different era. The living room is untouched, except for the TV. The piano rests against the hard-wooden wall beside the golden gramophone player. Then on the other wall of the room, behind the TV, a big bookshelf holds up a lot of old dusty books. I skim over the books to find anything interesting but none of them really catches my eyes.

There are photographs of my grandma and grandpa when they were young on the wall. I look over to the big floral sofa beneath and sit down on it while I sip on my coffee. I examine the room carefully. Then suddenly a book from the bookshelf falls down which catches me off guard. It gives me a lot to think if I should worry about it or just brush it off. I choose the second option and pick up the book and put it to where it belongs. As I read the book cover, it says "Schöne Kreatur".

I walk briskly up the stairs and down the hall through the locked doors and some spaces in between the doors to put big figures and windows—there is another living room, only this one, all the furniture is covered in white fabrics. I continue my tracks to my room that's located in the corner left of the hall. I put my coffee down on my bedside table as I lie on my bed and open the old book that fell from the bookshelf just minutes ago. It's dusty and it smells vulnerable.

As I'm too excited to read the first page, I groan as I sit up and toss it away. It's written in German.

I stand up and grab my coffee and wrap my cold palms around the hot cup and walk down to the bookshelf to find another book, but it's no use. It's all in German. The people that lived here were obviously not American, aside from my grandma and grandpa, of course.

I walk upstairs again to my bedroom. I feel rather frustrated to own this big house when there are only four of us—well, dad works in another city which means he's not going to be around so much. I put down the cup on the bedside table and decide to unpack the boxes.

My room is exceptional, though, I told my mom to redecorate a little. I'm planning to replace the rug with a new baby blue faux fur rug. The reason why I chose this room was that it is far away from Wayne and mom's rooms. They recommended the room in the first corner to the right, but it's not as big as this one.

Just as I unwrap the box the nearest to where I'm sitting, my door creaks open. I stay still, not moving a single step as I look behind me to my window to see if it's opened—you know, probably the breeze. But it's closed. I walk slowly out of my room and look at the window that's resting next to her door is opened. I sigh in relief. It's just the breeze.

I walk out to the toilet to find a scissor to help unwrap the boxes. I search inside the emergency kit to find a small manicure scissor. I roll my eyes as I keep trying to find it, which is useless. I turn back to walk to my room and when I walk inside, the box I'm about to unwrap has already unwrapped itself—all three of them. My whole body stiffens as I gulp and look around the room.

"Hello?" My voice cracks. My heart is beating a little faster than usual.

I quickly take my phone on my bed and as I'm about call 911 to report an intruder inside my house, my mom's caller ID appears on my phone. I swiftly answer my mom. "Mom? Mom, where are you? There's an intruder—"

"Daisy, I'm in front of the house, can you please open the door? I've been waiting here for 20 min—" I run down the stairs and then almost stumble my foot by the dent on the middle stair as I then quickly open the front door, revealing my mom with groceries and Wayne in the back, helping her carry some.

"God, are you okay?" My mom asks as she walks inside the room and hands me some of the grocery bags.

"Mom—I—"

"Did you take my headphones? I told you not to touch it." Wayne asks me as he closes the door. He's four inches taller than me and two years younger than me—which makes him 16 but still acts like a 5-year-old. And he's as skinny as a toothpick.

"Mom!" I run a little to follow my mom to the kitchen, putting some food and juices in our new fridge.

"It's still smeary, Daisy, I told you to clean the kitchen this morning. Did you not hear?" She groans as she takes the bag of groceries that are in my embrace.

"Mom, you have to listen to me,"

"Now help me with the food, come on—Wayne, put down your phone!" She takes the phone out of Wayne's grasp and shove it in her pocket and cues Wayne to put the bread jams on the top shelf.

"There was someone in my room," I say, raising my voice enough to make my mom and Wayne stop in their tracks and leave their mouths agape.

"Right." Wayne scoffs.

"What?" My mom asks the same time Wayne responds.