‡ Promise 1: Moving Day ‡

-As told by Lily-

o, here I were, living my life in New York and doing my own thing. It's near the end of my third year in highschool and I am happy with my friends, "freaks" just like me. After spending the afternoon with my friends, hanging out in a local music store, I came home to our huge loft, only to find my parents waiting for me at the kitchen table. It wasn't particularly odd, for they often were in the kitchen, having a few drinks or having conversations about their careers. So, I didn't think twice about it, at first. Until my father said, "Lily, your mom and I would like to talk with you."
My parents haven't talked to me in years, I mean, really talk. My dad's a doctor and my mother runs an internet business, selling her fashion designs around the world. Neither of them has any time for me, except for when I run into trouble, and then it's time to talk. So I had wondered what I had did wrong this time, to cause this meeting. My mind came up with nothing. "You're not in trouble, chubby-bear." smiles my mother, picking up on my confusion. I hate it when she calls me that. I haven't been "chubby-bear" since I was seven! I frown and take a seat in one of the white iron deco chairs at the table, across from parents, as I've done so in other times. "What's going on?" I sigh, bored already.
"We're thinking about moving." my father blurts out, just like that. "What?!" I yelled, my heart sinking in my chest, "Why?!" "Well," smiles my mother, siting up in her chair, "Your father has been offered a job, in a little town, named Promise Falls." "Yes," he continues, "And I think it may be a good idea. You know, change the scenery a bit." "That's crap!" I scoffed, "How much more is this job paying you?" "Not much more." he waved, "In fact, moving there wouldn't make much difference to our current finances." I looked to both, confused.
"You see," explains my mom, "We just need to get away. Somewhere peaceful, without the harsh sounds of the city, and the high crime-rate." "Yeah," nods my dad, "Without the egos and the same mind-numbing routine. I became a doctor to heal and to help others. But it seems as though I'm becoming more and more numb, patients are becoming numbers to me, and everything is geared towards how big will my next bonus be. In a small town, I can get back to the basics, to helping people again." "What, did you kill a patient?" I snapped. "Lily!" frowns mom. "No," he said, calmly, "But if I stay here, in this city, I just might."
"So, you guys decided to move?" I growl, folding my arms. "Well, we want to include you in this decision too." my mother says, a hopeful look on her face. She can hope all she wants to but I'll never agree to this! My friends are here, my school is here, and I love the loft! It's my home! I had argued all of this, but my parents had made up their minds. I am a minor, so there was no way I could refuse. I thought about running away from home, but all of my friends were minors as well, who lived at home with parents. So, I couldn't stay with them. And even if I could, my parents would just find me anyway.
So that summer, my parents packed all of my things up and shoved me into a van. We were heading for some corn-town, called Promise Falls. I sat in mourning in the backseat, silently saying goodbye to my life and my city... my home. "This is hell." I said, quietly, "No, it's worse than hell." "Oh, chubby-bear." says my mother, overhearing what I've said, "Change can be a good thing, you'll see." "If that's so," I reply, "How come you refuse to stop calling me 'chubby-bear', even though I've changed and am no longer seven?" Through the rare-view mirror, I can see the worry lines form across her face. Gotcha!, I thought.
We drove across the country for four days, stopping to eat in diners, use the bathrooms, and sleep in hotels. Each day meant that I was even further from home and my friends. I cried each of those nights, alone in my separate hotel room, homesick. This was an adventure for my parents, but an unending nightmare for me. By the fifth day, noon, we were pulling up to a huge white house, with blue shutters, a three floor home. It was complete with green and mowed front and backyard and a cobblestone driveway. Even though some houses varied in color, all of the neighboring houses were the same size and had neat lawns and cobblestone driveways. It looked like this street was directly ripped from a postcard. I wanted to throw up.
"Here we are!" cheers my mom, as if her excitement would rub off on me, "This is it! Isn't it wonderful?" I hacked a loogy onto the lawn, grabbed my bag, and headed towards the house. "Right." I heard my mother say, crushed. "Just give her time," assured my dad, "It's our first night here, in our new home, and once she-" I didn't hear the rest, I was too busy heading up the wooden stairs and onto the porch. It was then I got the oddest sensation, as if something dark was creeping beside me.
Turning to my right, I noticed the neighbor was heading into his house. A tall blond hair guy, with spiky hair, carrying a ream of paper under one arm and a Starbucks coffee in the other hand. He was whistling to himself, turned and looked me straight in the eye for one whole second, and then headed into his home without missing a beat. My mouth hung open for a second, my brain catching up with the realization that I knew him, from a picture in the book jacket of a best selling novel.
"I have the keys here." said my dad, heading for the door, "The moving guys have probably left the bulk of our things inside, already." "Lily?" asks my mom, worried, "You look like you've seen a ghost. Are you okay?" "No." I said, and then stuttered, "Y-yes. I-I mean, I don't know!" I looked towards the neighboring house, "I thought I saw someone famous go inside there." "Famous?" laughs my mother, "Who did you think you saw?" "Well," shrugs my dad, "There's a writer who lives next door to us. I think his name is... Keith Roman?" "Keith Rolmir !" I corrected, my heart racing, "That's who I saw!"
"Yeah, well," shrugs dad, "I never heard of him." "Oh, is he famous?" asks my mother. "Very!" I frown, "He the best selling horror author of all time! They even turned two of his books into movies." I look at my parents, ready for them to catch on, but they returned puzzled looks. "The movies were 'The Hidden Box' and 'Another Portal'." I sigh, annoyed. "Well," blushed dad, while opening the front door, "It's been a while since I've been to the movies."
Still annoyed, I grabbed my bag and headed into the picture perfect home. Everything inside was bright and cheery. I did my best to choke back the bile that was rising. "Well," smiles my mom, "There are three bedrooms and one master bedroom. Of course the master is for your father and me. But you get to choose one of the three bedrooms, chubby-bear!" "Great." I said, flatly and headed upstairs alone.
The first room was painted pink and white, I shut that door immediately, and went looking for another. The second room was painted orange, it seemed okay. But I could tell that after a while the orange color would get to me and I would go mad in that room. The third room wasn't a bad color, tan and dark brown, but it was way too small for any of my things. "That's just great." I sighed, dropping my bag into the hall. As I tried to decided over the closet room or the madness room, I noticed another door. "I thought she said there were only three rooms." I wondered to myself.
I opened the door and behind it were narrow stairs. "The attic." I smiled, thinking of taking a peek. I climbed the creaking old stairs, each one groaned in protest, awaken from their years of no visitors. I stood in a fairly large attic, surrounded by cobwebs and dust, and a few miscellaneous boxes. It was covered in shadows, at best, even though the sun was still shining brightly outside. It had the feel of a tomb or what I'd imagine a tomb would feel like. "Perfect." I nod, "This will be my room." And as I took a deep breath of the stale attic air, I noticed that dark feeling again. Something was near and I followed that cold feeling towards the attic's window.
There was a view of the backyard and the untamed woods that edged it. "Lame." I sigh, looking into the woods and finding nothing there. But suddenly, there was a flicker in the corner of my right eye. In the neighboring yard, there stood Keith Rolmir, drinking a glass of wine and looking off into the woods. It really is him, I thought, Maybe he's working on a new book. In one fluid motion, he was no longer standing there...