My Lullaby of You by Alia Rose

Author:Alia Rose [Rose, Alia]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Plum Anchor Press
Published: 2018-06-15T16:00:00+00:00

We stayed silent on the drive, and I gazed out the window. We drove through downtown on the main road, past the boardwalk and city sign. We turned left into a neighborhood and then right, and right again. We passed by house after house, the houses slowly getting farther apart. The road turned to gravel, and I wondered how in the world Will knew where he was going.

I felt the car slow down, and my stomach clenched. I could see a small house in the distance and somehow knew it was the one. Even though it was dark, the moonlight shed some light over it and I could make out a wide porch covered in vines, shuttered windows, and a small tower to one side.

“This is it.”

I nodded, staring at the still house. I gripped the key tighter in my hand.

Will turned off the ignition. “Take as long as you need.”

My feet felt heavy as I walked up the narrow path to the house. There was a slight breeze, and as I got closer I could hear wind chimes. It sent a chill through me, my body running cold, and I felt as though I were about to step into a horror film as my foot hit the creaky porch. I took a deep breath and fumbled for the keyhole; when my fingers found it, I pushed the key in and turned. The lock clicked and I pushed forward.

I kept the door open, and the light spilling from Will’s headlights kept me from standing in total darkness. I reached into my back pocket and pulled out my phone, turning on the flashlight. I scanned the room quickly, noticing a couch, scattered tables, and a fireplace. I took a few steps forward as my eyes started to adjust to the darkness. When they did, all I saw were boxes. There were stacks and stacks of boxes, all organized and scribbled on. I flashed my phone to read label after label.

It was mom’s handwriting, messy and quickly written, as if she had been packing for a finish line. I wandered around the house, going into the dining room, the kitchen, and up a set of stairs. The house was dusty, but not as dusty as I had thought it might be. I wondered if my father had been coming here to keep it up.

The doors upstairs all were shut, and I opened them one by one before entering any of the rooms. There was a bathroom, two bedrooms, and a smaller room that resembled a study. I went into the smaller bedroom and instantly smelled my mom. It was a faint, sweet smell of freesia masked by the smell of musty wood. I looked around the room, realizing this must have been her childhood room.

I sat on the stripped mattress and stared ahead at the mirror on the wall. I could see my face in the glow of my phone’s light. Sitting there, I thought about what my mom might have been like as a child, as a teenager.

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