The Girl in the Ghost House - Chapter 5

Chapter 5

The air inside of the conservatory was damp and warm and humid. The heavy glass door swung shut behind Evelyn as she stepped inside. The conservatory looked less like a greenhouse and more like a jungle, with a fogged up glass roof peaking out above the high tree tops.

Trevor stayed back by the door and scratched against it, squeaking at Evelyn in frustration. He wasn’t very happy that Evelyn refused to listen to his warnings. And she simply kept walking forward dragging Faucet with her. Trevor stamped his foot in frustration and gave a high pitched squeak before scurrying after Evelyn.

“Hello.” Evelyn stepped on a twig that snapped loudly. “Is anyone there?”

The bushes to her left began to move and Evelyn turned and backed away from them. She was a smart girl and knew there was nothing scary about moving bushes. They were just bushes after all. But what was in the bushes making them move? That could be something unexpectedly nasty. And so Evelyn backed away from the thing in the bushes.

That Morning At the DMV, Sixteen Years Ago

There was a swoosh and air tumbled over her. Air that was just too cold and had just too much a taste of Lysol to mask the underlying odor. Human. Undeniable, unmistakable. This place reeked of their stench. At least. That's what she told herself. She walked towards the counter at the center of the room.

The woman who sat there looked like she hadn't moved from the spot since the late 1970s. Her hair, her makeup, her clothes. Those half-moon glasses  she wore low on the bridge of her nose. The tired and annoyed way she looked up. This woman whose time was apparently so important that she couldn't even muster a smile for the people walking through her line.

"What you here for, hon?" Her voice was nasally and flat.

The girl standing in front of her counter looked no older than twenty. Red hair pulled back in a ponytail. Leather jacket that was just a bit too big draped over her shoulders. A red and white flannel shirt tied above her exposed bellybutton. Torn and faded jeans that were turned up above her pair of leather boots. Her eyes were hidden behind a pair of reflective aviators as she looked down at her watch.

"Renewal of registration." Her voice was lower than one would expect from her frame. "What time do you have?"

"You'll just need to take a number and wait over there." The woman droned as she pulled a number from a ticket dispenser and ignored the other question. "Wait time is about four hours. Hope you brought a book or something."

The girl walked forward and planted both her hands firmly on the counter, people in line looking over and whispering as they saw her. She leaned forward and if people hadn't know better they would have thought her neck, her whole frame, seemed to stretch a bit as she leered at the woman. She bent her head ever so slightly forward, letting the sunglasses slide just an inch or so down her nose. But that was all it took.

Deep in the shadow of the sunglasses her irises burned a bright red, as if they were two live coals cooking at the center of their dark sockets. Her hair suddenly seemed redder, her canines of her teeth seemed longer. For a moment, the leather jacket looked less like a jacket and more like a pair of leathery wings folded across her back. Just for a moment. No one even seemed to see it. Most were busy holding up "Oregon Driver's Manual" or "Bike Rules of the Road" booklets.