This isn'thow I imagined I'd spend my Friday night. Digging
around in the walls of an old-ass house with god knows
what kind of creatures trapped inside.
I'm just waiting for a rabid squirrel to jump up and latch onto my
outstretched arm, driven mad with hunger and willing to eat
anything due to so many years being trapped in the walls,nothing
but bugs to keep it fed.
My arm is shoulder-deep in the goddamn hole Greyson
created, a flashlight held tightly in my grip. There is just enough
space to fit my arm and part of my head in at an odd angle to look
around.
This is stupid. I'm stupid.
The second I heard the door hit Greyson's ass on the wayout,
I inspected the damage. It's not a massive hole, but what gave me
pause was the rather large gap between the two walls. At least
three or four feet of space. And why else would it be built this way
if there wasn't a reason?
It feels like a magnet is pulling me towards it. And every time I
try to pull away, a deep vibration travels through my bones. The
tips of my fingers buzz withthe need to reach out. To just look
inside the fathomless void and find what is calling my name.
Now here I am, bent over and stuffing myself in a hole.
Suppose if I couldn't get mine stuffed tonight, I might as well get
my action this way.
The flashlight on my phone reveals wooden beams, thick
cobwebs, dust, and bug carcasses on the inside of the wall. I turn
the other direction and point the light down the other side.
Nothing. The webs are too thick to see much, so I use my phone
like a baton and start tearing down some of them.I swear if I drop it, I'll be pissed.There will be no getting it back
and I'll have to get a new one.
I wince from the feel of the hair-like webs brushing across my
skin, imitating the sensation of bugs crawling on me. I turn back
towards the left and shine the light one more time.
I bat down a couple more cobwebs, ready to just give up and
ignore the siren call that got me into this dumbass situation in the
first place.
There.
Alittle way down the hall is something glinting off the light. Just
the barest hint, but it's enough for me to jump in excitement,
knocking my head off the thick drywall and sending flakes
tumbling down in my hair.
Ow.
Ignoring the dull throbbing in the back of my head, I rip myarm
out and rush down the hallway, guesstimating the distance on
where I saw the mysterious object.
Grabbing a picture frame, I unhook it from its nail and gently
set it down. I do this several more times until I come across a
picture of my great-grandmother sitting on a retro bike, a bundle of
sunflowers sitting in the basket. She smiles wide, and even
though the picture is black and white, I know she's wearing red
lipstick. Nana said she'd put on her red lipstick before she'd put on
the coffee.
I pull the picture from the wall and stifle a gasp when I see an
army green safe in front of me. It's old, with a mere dial for the
lock. Excitement burns in my lungs as my fingers drift over the
dial.
I've discovered a treasure. And I suppose I have Greyson to
thank for that. Though I'd like to think I would've taken these
pictures down eventually for the sake of no longer having my
ancestors look down on my extremely questionable decisions.
I'm staring at the safe as a cold breeze washes across my
body, turning my blood into ice. The sudden freezing temperature
has me turning around, my eyes sweeping the empty hallway.
My teeth chatter, and I thinkI even see my breath puff out of
my mouth. And just as quickly as it came, it dissipates. Slowly, my body warms up to a normal temperature, but the chill down my
spine lingers.
I'm unable to tear my eyes away from the empty space, waiting
for something to happen but as the minutes tick by, I endup just
standing there.
Focus, Addie.
Gently setting the picture down, I decide to brush off the weird
chill and google how to break open a safe. After finding several
forums that list a step-by-step process, I run off towards my
grandfather's toolbox collecting dust in the garage.
The space was never used for cars, even when Nana owned
the house. Instead, generations of junk collected here, consisting
mainly of my grandfather's tools and some odds and ends from
the house. I grab the tools I need, run back up the stairs, and
proceed to force my way into the safe. The old thing is pretty shitty
in terms of protection, but I suppose whoever hid this box here
didn't actually expect anyone to find it. At least not in their lifetime.
Several failed attempts, bouts of frustrated groaning, and a
smashed finger later, I finally crack the sucker open. Using my
flashlight again, I find three brown leather-bound books inside. No
money. No jewels. Nothing of value really—at least not monetary
value.
I hadn't been hoping for those things honestly, but I'm still
surprised to find none, considering that's what most people use
safes for.
I reach in andgrab the journals, reveling in the feel of the
buttery soft leather under my fingertips. Asmile breaks across my
face as I trail my fingers over the inscription on the first book.
Genevieve Matilda Parsons.
My great-grandmother—Nana's mother. The very woman in the
picture concealing the safe, notorious for her red lipstick and
bright smile. Nana always said she went by the name Gigi.
Aquick look at the other two books reveals the same name.
Her diaries? They have to be.
Dazed, I walk to my bedroom, close the door behind me and
settle down on my bed, legscrossed. Aleather cord is wrapped
around each book, holding them closed. The outside world fades as Igrab the first journal, carefully unwrap the cord, and open the
book.
It isa diary. Every page has an entry written in a feminine
script. And at the bottom of each page is my great-grandmother's
trademark lipstick kiss.
She died before I was born,but I grew up hearing countless
stories about her. Nana said she inherited her wild personality and
sharp tongue from her mother. I wonder if Nana ever knew about
the diaries. If she's ever read them.
If Genevieve Parsons is as wild as Nana said she was, then I
imagine thesediaries have all sorts of stories to show me.
Smiling, I open the other two books and confirm the date on the
first page of each book to ensure I'm starting from the beginning.
And then I stay up all night reading, growing more disturbed by
each entry.