I gulped. I always knew my Latin skills would come in handy somewhere; I didn't expect it to be in a possibly haunted house where we were probably doomed from the moment we stepped inside the gate.
The exterior of the house was in shambles. The once-grand façade was now cloaked in layers of grime and neglect. Vines crept up the walls, their tendrils twisting like skeletal fingers reaching out for something to hold onto. The front lawn was overgrown, a tangled mess of weeds and unkempt grass that swayed in the chill breeze, as if trying to brush away the encroaching decay.
"Ugh, why is this place so dusty? We need some wipes and...oh, what am I saying, it will take forever for the ground to even be visible," she sighed. "Yeah, where's the garden?" she sighed. Since nobody answered her, she took off and ran a lap around the mansion. The whole house was big and widespread, but small compared to the green mass around us. It would be at least a few miles from our personal, extensive "garden".
She came back with a disheartened expression. "Ugh, only rats," she shivered. "We can fix that, "I said. My voice trembled a bit and my throat became a little itchy.
I was too busy glancing at the keys, the phrases all mixing up in my head. "Trish?" Dad shook me a bit to break my trance. "Huh?" I breathed. "Are you going to open the door?" he asked, a little irritated.
"Yeah, Dad, sorry." I rolled my eyes. COUGH! The dust was upsetting my asthmatic a-s. "Trish, are you okay, son?" Dad patted my back.
COUGH! "I'm...fine," I said, covering my face. My throat was closing up, if I kept inhaling the dust, I might have had another asthmatic attack. "Wh-where is your inhaler?" he asked, his hands shaking a little. I checked my pockets, but they didn't have anything, dad checked him and it didn't have anything either. Kiara started to jump around and scream: "Trish is going to die, Trish is going to die!" way to make this easier for me, Ki.
"You need to breathe, Trish. You need to relax! Sit down." She made me sit on the doorstep. All I could see was the house, sitting proud and arrogant above me, swallowing me up with its shadows. I shouldn't have taken this risk, no wonder nobody bought this house.
Mi glutos vian animon
I'll swallow your soul.
My mother quickly acted. She ran back to the car. She reached in her bag and pulled out a spare inhaler. I did a few sprays and finally felt my throat opening up. That was a close one.
"You should always have one in your pocket," she said, in a condescending tone.
"Hmm, thanks, Mom." I looked at her this time and saw her eyes bright, but with a tinge of hope and passion. She was a little hot-headed, but she wouldn't leave me to die. Maybe she wasn't the worst person on the planet.
Even though I survived at the moment, I was afraid that this was only the beginning…