The Color of My Blood - Part 1

The air was thick and humid, filling my lungs uneasily. I sat in the back seat of the car, groping the leather chairs. My mom drove on, smiling back at me. My dad stared straight ahead, his eyes empty. Our family was broken. Dad battled with depression and mom struggled with money. I was left in the dust, watching as my peers lived happily while I dreaded going home.

After my grandmother (my mom's mom) died, we decided to move. "Too many memories in the house," my mom had said in a shaky voice. So here we were in our car, driving to the middle of nowhere. Actually, we were going to Kansas. Finally, we reached our destination.

An old farmhouse sat before us, paint chipped and overgrown weeds. A little shed sat beside it, surrounded by tangled vegetation. Two windows were on the house, covered with tacky, flower printed curtains. Despite the ugliness of it, I felt safe when I saw it.

"I know it may look beat up," my mom started. "But I'm gonna fix it up. Its such a sweet, little house, isn't it?"

"I love it, " I exclaimed. Most kids might sulk or go back into the car and call their old friends. But I was excited. For once I felt happy. I looked around, seeing the flat, long land stretch before me.

"Alright, Katie, help me unpack! You too, Paul!" Mom said. My dad jerked out of his trance. He smiled and grabbed a couple of boxes. I felt as if we were a family again. Little did I know someone would steal my heart. And this certain someone would be a ghost.