~Resistance~ [1]
This is a story I'm writing about a romance between a girl named Sandra and a ghost named Thackery. Hope you like it, if you do message me or rate or comment. Thank you from KatieMae1994 :)
Sandra looked over the large house immediately, scowling as she dropped her duffel bag. She crossed her arms angrily over her chest.
"No!" she said, "I refuse to live here!" She screamed at her mother. The tall, frail, quirky woman was grabbing boxes out of the trunk of the car. Sandra scowled once more at her mother who rolled her eyes at her daughter. Sandra turned back to the house and bent to pick up her duffel bag. She slung it over her shoulder observing the old house. She had to admit it was very nice, but she wouldn't want to LIVE in the place the rest of her life. She sighed slowly looking around. The house was a two-story, white house from around the forties. Of course the house has been taken care of over the years. But Sandra didn't care, she slowly walked up the green lawn, on the concrete path that led to the porch.
The porch swept all the way along the house, with a couple of swings every few feet and chair set up appropriately. She went into the house and walked slowly up the stairs, taking extra caution because of the oldness. She found the door with the sign on it. It read, "Sandra's room!", and she opened the door slowly. It creaked eerily and she shivered. She set the duffel bag on the bed and dust flew into the air, she coughed and opened the window. A gust of chilly air blew in and she shut the window as fast as she possibly could. She shivered and unzipped her duffel bag. She slowly pulled out her large purple comforter. She set it down on her bed and laid on top of it, she looked around. Everything was as it was at her mothers old house. She sat up on her elbows, feeling another presence in the room. She shook her head violently and sat up Indian style with her hands in her lap. She sighed and looked around.
She felt a light breeze on her neck, almost like someone was breathing on her. Sandra's eyes got wide and she shivered again, she moved forward on the bed but it followed her. The breathing now just below her ear, she shook her head violently again and the feeling went away. She crossed to her closet and opened it, all her clothes were there. She fumed, Sandra did not like her mother touching her belongings without asking her.
She was so mad she slammed the door shut and it caused the mirror on her wall to fall off and shatter. She bent to pick it up and pricked her finger on a sharp piece. Blood began to ooze out of her finger slowly. She smelled it and almost threw up on her floor, she grabbed a black blanket from her closet and wrapped it around her finger tightly. She applied pressure as she used her mini broom to clean up the mirror shards. She put them in the very bottom drawer of her dresser and sighed. She looked into her spare mirror attached to her dresser and saw a very young looking male standing behind her, but when she turned no one was there. She ran down the stairs like lightning and into the bathroom to get bandaids.
She looked down at her finger, no stitches would be needed, but she needed to be more careful in situations like that. She shuddered out her breath as the room got increasingly cold, goose bumps appearing on her arms as she ran out and into her moms huge new library. That's when Sandra noticed the backyard. Her eyes grew wide in curiosity as she inched herself closer to the glass. Her first sight of the swamp and the large willow tree in the backyard was amazing. Her jaw was dropped and she ran up to gather her sketch pad and pencils. She almost leapt out the back door to sit on the porch and look at the tree. She sat Indian style on the edge of the porch and started drawing the scene before her.
Even though it was in black and white she could see all the colors in her mind. The murky green of the swamp, the bright green of the grass growing out of it, the brown of the tree trunk, and the blue of his eyes. She did a double take at the boy she was drawing under the tree. His knee was up and his arm was resting on it as he leaned his head back looking up into the tree. His shaggy brown hair revealing one of his eyes so very nicely. She slowly started to sketch him, but he turned his head towards her and his eyes squinted, he smiled as he looked at her.
Silently you told him to stay still, and he surprisingly did as told. She sketched him and held up her portrait, perfectly drawn yet not even coming close to the true beauty of the swamp. She sighed and went back inside, and turned to look back at the boy, but he wasn't there. It was the same boy she saw in her mirror. Her eyes grew wide as realization struck her hard in the face. She shook her head again and went back into the house. Her mother was sitting at the table and Sandra jumped when she saw her.
"Mom, what the..?" She asked holding a hand to her chest as her heart ran a marathon in it.
"No!" she said, "I refuse to live here!" She screamed at her mother. The tall, frail, quirky woman was grabbing boxes out of the trunk of the car. Sandra scowled once more at her mother who rolled her eyes at her daughter. Sandra turned back to the house and bent to pick up her duffel bag. She slung it over her shoulder observing the old house. She had to admit it was very nice, but she wouldn't want to LIVE in the place the rest of her life. She sighed slowly looking around. The house was a two-story, white house from around the forties. Of course the house has been taken care of over the years. But Sandra didn't care, she slowly walked up the green lawn, on the concrete path that led to the porch.
The porch swept all the way along the house, with a couple of swings every few feet and chair set up appropriately. She went into the house and walked slowly up the stairs, taking extra caution because of the oldness. She found the door with the sign on it. It read, "Sandra's room!", and she opened the door slowly. It creaked eerily and she shivered. She set the duffel bag on the bed and dust flew into the air, she coughed and opened the window. A gust of chilly air blew in and she shut the window as fast as she possibly could. She shivered and unzipped her duffel bag. She slowly pulled out her large purple comforter. She set it down on her bed and laid on top of it, she looked around. Everything was as it was at her mothers old house. She sat up on her elbows, feeling another presence in the room. She shook her head violently and sat up Indian style with her hands in her lap. She sighed and looked around.
She felt a light breeze on her neck, almost like someone was breathing on her. Sandra's eyes got wide and she shivered again, she moved forward on the bed but it followed her. The breathing now just below her ear, she shook her head violently again and the feeling went away. She crossed to her closet and opened it, all her clothes were there. She fumed, Sandra did not like her mother touching her belongings without asking her.
She was so mad she slammed the door shut and it caused the mirror on her wall to fall off and shatter. She bent to pick it up and pricked her finger on a sharp piece. Blood began to ooze out of her finger slowly. She smelled it and almost threw up on her floor, she grabbed a black blanket from her closet and wrapped it around her finger tightly. She applied pressure as she used her mini broom to clean up the mirror shards. She put them in the very bottom drawer of her dresser and sighed. She looked into her spare mirror attached to her dresser and saw a very young looking male standing behind her, but when she turned no one was there. She ran down the stairs like lightning and into the bathroom to get bandaids.
She looked down at her finger, no stitches would be needed, but she needed to be more careful in situations like that. She shuddered out her breath as the room got increasingly cold, goose bumps appearing on her arms as she ran out and into her moms huge new library. That's when Sandra noticed the backyard. Her eyes grew wide in curiosity as she inched herself closer to the glass. Her first sight of the swamp and the large willow tree in the backyard was amazing. Her jaw was dropped and she ran up to gather her sketch pad and pencils. She almost leapt out the back door to sit on the porch and look at the tree. She sat Indian style on the edge of the porch and started drawing the scene before her.
Even though it was in black and white she could see all the colors in her mind. The murky green of the swamp, the bright green of the grass growing out of it, the brown of the tree trunk, and the blue of his eyes. She did a double take at the boy she was drawing under the tree. His knee was up and his arm was resting on it as he leaned his head back looking up into the tree. His shaggy brown hair revealing one of his eyes so very nicely. She slowly started to sketch him, but he turned his head towards her and his eyes squinted, he smiled as he looked at her.
Silently you told him to stay still, and he surprisingly did as told. She sketched him and held up her portrait, perfectly drawn yet not even coming close to the true beauty of the swamp. She sighed and went back inside, and turned to look back at the boy, but he wasn't there. It was the same boy she saw in her mirror. Her eyes grew wide as realization struck her hard in the face. She shook her head again and went back into the house. Her mother was sitting at the table and Sandra jumped when she saw her.
"Mom, what the..?" She asked holding a hand to her chest as her heart ran a marathon in it.
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