A loud squawk alerted my eyes to the sky above, where dark gray clouds were rolling in across the fading blue sky. A wild storm was brewing in the distance, and I shuddered as a rumble of thunder boomed above us.
My eyes locked on the beast as it seemed to follow our car from a safe distance. His yellow, beady eyes locked with mine and it was as though I forgot how to breathe. It was a strange sensation, but I just shook my head as I stifled a laugh. I was allowing my emotions to get the best of me and I was definitely losing it.
“You remember any of this?” my mom asked from the front seat. She turned so that she could have a view of my face, but what she caught was my eye roll.
“The last time I was here, I was five,” I reminded her, slumping back down into my seat.
Sighing, I continued to stare out the window, looking for anything that would alert my brain that this was familiar.
My new home felt oddly cold and unwelcoming.
When my mom had inherited her Aunt Morgan’s farm, the last thing I ever expected was for her to announce that we would be moving across the country to the small, sleepy Town of Nicholasville, Kentucky.
My mom of all people should understand my reluctance to pack up my life and move. When she was sixteen, my grandparents had moved her from sunny California to gloomy Salem, Massachusetts. It was in Salem that I had lived most of my life--up until now. Most of my life, I had been moved around as my mom ‘worked’ with small towns and the restless souls who inhabited them.
So, you would think that she wouldn’t want to put her own daughter through the same turmoil, but, of course, she did.
I guess it worked out for my mom. She met my dad, Noah, and they were those goofy high school sweethearts that made you want to gag. Sometimes, they still acted as though they were in high school.
Bringing the car to a stop, my dad turned and snorted. “You know, Lizzie, I remember a time when your mom had to come here for a summer. We hadn’t been dating very long, but still, your grandparents had made her come down here. I came, too, and we had a very exciting summer,” he said, sharing a familiar smirk with my mom.
I knew what they were alluding to and even now, as a sixteen-year-old, I hated when they brought up the secrets of our family. I was named Elizabeth at birth, after someone who my mom said was very special to her. But, my family called me Lizzie. Once when I was in seventh grade, I had to write a paper about my family. It hadn’t meant much to me in the beginning, but as I began to delve into my family history, I quickly realized there was no way I could write the truth about my family. At least, without sounding like a complete lunatic-- or liar.
At first glance, you would never look at me or my family and think we were anything but normal. Just your average humans living their lives, but if you really got to know us, you would quickly uncover that we were anything but normal.... And anything but human.
You see, my mom is a Mediator--someone who can converse with the recently deceased. It’s not like we have Ghosts just running around our house, but the occasional spirit isn’t uncommon, either.
No, that would be crazy. Instead, they would come to her when they had one last message they needed to send to a new one or had an unresolved conflict. She helped them and I had been fascinated by her gift for as long as I could remember.
It was a secret that I knew to keep. I had been warned more times than I could count that if I ever breathed a word of who or what my mom was--outside of our family-- it could be deadly for us all. Especially, since I had my own strange gift, too. While I couldn’t talk to the dead, or help anyone move to the afterlife, I had been able to see things-- mostly dark shadows and lights, that others couldn’t see. There was nothing special about what I could do, and, in fact, it only solidified the fact that I was just strange. Recently though, the darkness that I saw lurking within the shadows, began chasing and attacking me. The ‘episodes’ as my school counselor called them, grew each day until I could barely function without feeling like I had to constantly look over my shoulder. The biggest problem though; my mom wasn’t seeing them.
A Mediator not seeing a shadowy figure-- was I crazy or just different?
So far, there was no explanation for it, but we all knew it wasn’t normal.
So, with that knowledge, I had kept my mouth closed and myself closed off from most people my age.
My dad, who was as normal as anyone human could be, was the only other person who knew how deep our secrets as a family really traveled. Even my mom’s best friend, Lucy, who I called Aunt Lucy, only knew the top layer of my mom’s secrets.
However, when my great aunt passed away and left her farm to my mom, I wasn’t given much of a choice but to move and start a new life.
And that was where my problems began.
Lately, my life has felt more like a dream than a reality. And not one that I was too keen on living. I had questions for my mom, but she wasn’t giving me many answers. At least not the answers I was looking for anyway.
There was something about this small town that I was now about to call home, that had played a significant role in her life as a Mediator. My dad’s, too.
Only, no one would divulge that information to me. I refused, though, to be uprooted from my life and placed in a whole new world, without any understanding. I would get answers. But when, I wasn’t sure.
“What do you think?” mom asked, pointing to the house which had been renovated. She had shaken me from my own thoughts and I had to pause before answering. On the outside, it resembled the home I had seen in pictures over the years. A large, two-story, brick house stood towering above me. Only a small amount of light shone through the dark haze that seemed to surround the southern style house. The exterior had been painted white and black barn door shutters outlined the large windows. Where a barn used to be, a large pool was being installed.
“It looks…” I wasn’t sure what to say. “Old,” I spit out, with a grimace.
“Well, of course it’s old,” she laughed. Throwing her arm around my shoulder, my mom led me onto the large, wrap-around porch. Construction crews were busy adding all of the final touches to the home, and the interior designers were busily placing furniture inside our rooms. Unlike my grandparents, my mom had decided to already have the house furnished with our furniture and the house ready to move in. Her office would overlook a large pond on the backside of the property. As a journalist, my mom’s occupation allowed her to travel and work from anywhere she lived. My dad was a freelance architect. He took jobs he wanted and could work from home, too. They prefered this, they had once told me. It was a way that they could feel free and not tied down if they needed to move quickly. It wasn’t until I was older that I understood the underlying meaning behind those words.
As we walked inside the home, I couldn’t help but marvel at the modern decor inside this chic farmhouse. My mom sighed, taking it all in. “Lizzie, you may not understand it now, but soon you will. This town has a special place in my heart. This town is magical, just wait and see,” she winked, before leaving me standing in the foyer stunned and alone.
Chapter Two
Won’t You Be My Neighbor
I
guess you could say I am not your typical teenage girl. With a mom who is a Mediator to the dead, nothing I said as a kid ever surprised her. Well, that is until I told her I could see shadows. Not just your average creepy shadows that painted your walls at night. No, these were moving shadows that could suck the life right out of you if you allowed them to. At least, that was the illusion they presented. Yeah, I know, pretty freaky, right?