DΛY ӨПΣ
"It's nothing a broom can't fix, right?"
Stepping out from the passenger seat of the shabby Honda Accord with a pop of my stiff joints, I let out a deep sigh. My shoes planted firmly into the gravel beneath me and emits a series of quiet 'crunch!'s as I walk around the car so I'm facing the house head-on. I lean against the hood and wait.
From the drivers seat, I narrowly avoid the door as a much older man follows in my wake and steps out. He twirls a set of keys in his hands as he plants them on his hips, a triumphant grin spreading across his matured face. Together we stared at the run down double story house in all its crooked glory.
"Add a couple thousand dollars worth in maintenance then we're ready to go pops," I responded after a momentary silence, shoving my hands into my pockets. "How did you manage to find this place anyway?"
The house, whilst visibly old, was nonetheless impressive. It was a ghost of what once was a beautiful mansion. The only downside? It was in the middle of nowhere.
It was only two weeks ago today when dad suddenly told me we'd be moving somewhere more down south, an unheard of town called 'Eden.' That was the first time I'd ever heard of this place. After an extensive eight hours of googling all I could about this town I'd come back with basically nothing: no reason to not go, no reason to complain and throw one of my 'young adult temper tantrums because I don't want to leave my old life behind' type ordeal. I didn't like change. But here I am now.
Curious name for a town, I scoff inwardly.
"I had some real estate agent contact me a month ago," my dad shrugs, his voice tearing me out of my thoughts and back to reality. Dusting off his pants he turned abruptly and held out an arm, cheeky. "Lets get a closer look."
With a playful roll of my eyes, I let a grin cross my own lips as I take hold of his arm. Sure, I was unhappy with this sudden move. Perhaps it was my stubborn-ness and the constant need to say 'no, you can't make me!' that made me so quiet on the drive over. But in this moment I will myself to push it aside. My dad was an over eager kind-hearted man. He only ever wanted what was best for us and our mini family. Now that I think about it, I couldn't remember the last time he even went out on a date with a woman; (definitely because of that one time he brought a woman home and I stared at her from the kitchen when his back was turned. The minute we met eyes I sliced my finger over my neck in a "you're done for" motion. Needless to say, she never came back ever again and he still didn't know why. The last thing she told him was a curt "keep that demon child away from me!" before it went radio silent. Maybe she's dead.)
But aside from that, I knew the real reason it was just the two of us. He was still hung up on the death of my mother from when I was just a child. I never met her, but from what I'd been told-- I was just like her.
So I will myself to push my grudges aside as his man-child laughter consumed the air. Our arms soon detach from one another as we walk up the driveway and closer towards the house. The large patio creaked as we made our way up the stairs and approached the front door. Seeing it for the first time I couldn't help but gaze in awe. Intricate patterns engraved into its worn down mahogany wood caught my attention instantly.
"Eden." I whispered, reaching my hand up to trace my over the etching. I could feel a static in my fingertips as it traced the wood, making it almost impossible for me to tear my gaze away. I jerked back when my dad suddenly turned around in curiosity. "Huh?"
He looked at the door frame, to me, then back at the door frame.
"Kid I think your dyslexia's getting worse." He joked, shaking his head. He fumbles around with the keys in his hands as he tries fitting the right one to the lock. I knew he meant no harm but confused, and honestly a bit hurt, I stood my ground. "What's that suppose to mean?"
"It doesn't say Eden. Hell, I wouldn't even know if it did because whatever that is isn't English."
What? Confused, I looked back at the wood and-- as my luck had it-- he was right. The words which I could've sworn looked so clear and coherent only seconds before now just looked like everything else. A jumbled mess.
I was only five when I was diagnosed with dyslexia. At the time we thought my inability to read and my delay in learning new things was just a part of my growing up. That perhaps I just needed a little longer. But lowe and behold after a long doctors visit we were given the diagnosis. I shake my head and push the thought to the back of my mind. I will myself not to think about the etchings on the door frame as a 'click!' draws me back to my senses.
"Aha!" Dad shouts victoriously as the lock turns and the door opens.
By no means were we a rich family. My dad drove that pile of shit out front and worked as a full time self employed mechanic, and part-time-stress-case from fussing over bills late at night when he thinks I'm asleep. As for me, I'm set to be entering my second year in performing arts. Boy, did we have a lot of papers to file. When I submitted my transfer papers with Eden's local university, I remember my surprise when they sent out the confirmation letter so quickly. But I had a hunch why: Eden Population, 894.
But as I stand here now and take in the sleek interior, the most grand of staircases and assortment of peculiar antiques-- I instantly turned towards my father with wide eyes.
"Holy shit you bought a drug lords lair!" I all but shouted, making the older man double over in laughter.
"That's not what this is. It supposedly dates back a couple hundred years, but he wasn't really all that specific..." He hummed. "The guy offered me a good deal so how could I say no?" he shrugs his shoulders as he too glances around the house.
Acknowledging his words I let my gaze wonder until it fell onto an old, dusty piano in the far corner besides the stairs. Stalking towards it I let my hands carefully lift the lid, nimble fingers coming down softly on several white keys. It was out of tune. To my right was a large window which gazed out into the backyard. The grass looked dead and dry, a solemn reminder of just how outdated the house truly was. Light ricocheted off the broken chandelier situated dead centre in the room, shimmering in its cracked glory. I could only imagine what this house looked like when it was in its prime.
So, with a huff, I dust my hands off and place them on my hips just as my dad had only minutes before.
"We've got some work to do." I mumbled, although loud enough that he could hear me.
"We sure do."
Perhaps scavenging through the attic wasn't my brightest idea. But, we had to start somewhere.
As soon as I found out that the house had an attic well equal the size of a dance studio I jumped at the first chance I got to claim it. It only took four days of nonstop pestering for my dad to agree, but sure enough here I am now: covered in dust and cobwebs, regretting all my life choices up until this very moment. I found that because of my dyslexia I never had the motivation to set my sights in academic directions. I knew that with hard work I could just about get wherever I wanted to be regardless of my impairment, but honestly-- I was lazy. So by the time I was eight I took up dancing to express my emotions. Turns out I was pretty good at it, too. If one good thing came from this move, this would have to be it. This attic? Godsend.
Moving and pulling at objects to clear space I could feel the ache in my back grow heavier. Whoever lived here before us had to be one of the biggest hoarders the world had ever known, period. All I knew was that when I started it was bright out, but now all I could see through the cracks of the broken wood was darkness and a faint red hue retracting off the beams which held the roof from collapsing. It was the night before the eclipse.
How lucky am I, huh?
Tomorrow is my first day of the new school year. I had yet to see the university in person but truth be told, I didn't have my expectations set too high. The eclipse was just a bonus. I always was fascinated by the beauty of the moon when it shines that burgundy red. Then I realise.
It was a new year in a new place. If it was the time for reinventing myself, why not now? It's not like I knew anybody, and it's not like they knew me. Should I go all Blair Waldorf and play pretentious bitch? Or perhaps play it low like Charlie Kelmeckis and be a wallflower?
Before I can entertain the idea for too much longer I'm cut from my thoughts as a sharp pain jabs through my body. As I pick up one of the last few boxes with heavy arms, one particular tug makes my back spasm as I dropped to my knees. One of my hands races to rest on my lower back and hold it until the pain subsides. The other raises so I can slap myself in the face. The objects in the box tip out with a loud clatter, spreading along the floor and creating a grand mess.
"Nice one, Y/N..." I mumbled. I watched as several objects rolled away, observed the glass shards now resting below my feet. But then I saw it.
A small cubed black box with silver lining its edges laid face up before me. The light redness from the moon shone upon it so faintly I almost didn't see it, but somehow I did. The box felt so small in my hands but at the same time felt oddly right. It seemed to call out to me, an odd temptation coursing throughout my body. And so I opened it. I couldn't believe what I saw.
The inside of the box was a deep burgundy red. In its confines was a ring. It was gold, round and thin, fit for an index finger. On its surface was engravings similar to the ones I thought I saw earlier on the front door.
"Eden..."
That same word. So I was right then, right? I wasn't just imagining things? Or am I going crazy, so crazy enough that when I look back at it tomorrow it'll be gone. But there was no mistaking the feeling I got from holding it in my hands right now. There was something about it which felt so familiar yet so foreign at the same time. Twirling the ring between my fingers I hum. It was beautiful.
"Y/N!" A shout from downstairs made me jump. Like clockwork I drop the ring.
The ring bounces from hand to hand as I fumbled, my heart racing sporadically as weird sounds escape the back of my throat. It felt like I was trying to juggle twenty different things at once. The second I catch it I find my throat going dry.
"Shit!" I whispered, half triumphant and half relieved as I tighten my grip this time.
"What!" I shout back. I cringe back into myself at how harsh it sounded, but in my defence-- that bitch almost made me lose this gem.
"Get out of the attic and go be a normal girl or something!" He calls back out to me, his words making me furrow my eyebrows.
"It's too late to go out!"
"I'd much rather you be out at this time of night than be spending hours in the roof like Hugo Simpson, now lets go!"
I sighed. Sometimes I didn't know whether his sarcasm was a blessing or a curse. Nonetheless, I pull myself back up to my feet and dust off my pants. I briefly sweep up the remains of the box I dropped only moments ago and make a move to get out of the attic. But, my attention is brought back to the ring in my hands.
I'd almost lost it once, and it was far too beautiful to let go of again. I couldn't risk it. So, I slipped the ring on my finger and head downstairs.
I suppose now was a better time than ever to get some sleep before tomorrow.
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