Be Nice to Your Neighbors

As I climb up to the attic I cannot stop sneezing. This place is filled with dust. Maybe even mice or rats too. I would have preferred the place to be pre-cleaned, but that's what you get when you buy a house that’s super cheap and was made an eternity ago. I cringe at the cardboard boxes that are waiting to be cleared away, but I have to clean everything and paint the walls before I unpack. I would prefer not to have ancient wallpaper in colors like brown and beige.

When I get up to the attic I notice that there are already dust-covered boxes up there. I go to have a closer look at them. There are many different sizes and varieties but one that particularly catches my eye is a small and shallow dark red box in the corner. I feel strangely drawn to it so I pick it up and carefully open the lid. Inside I find, wrapped neatly in brown paper, a small black notebook. On the front, in tiny cursive writing, it says “Anne Adley’s Journal.” I skim through the pages, but I can’t read cursive very well so it’s hard to understand. I think I’ll just put it on my bookshelf.

“Tuesday February 17, 1732 Anne Adley

Dear Journal,

My father told me that he has been saving up all of his money ever since he was eleven years old. Now, when he is on his deathbed, he has decided to give it to me considering that he is a single dad and I am his only daughter. I have counted it all five times and in total there is $20, 000 . It is more money than I could ever imagine what to do with. I have decided to hide it in the ground of my front yard until I need it, should I ever need it.”

I wanted to start painting the walls today but I have to go get groceries, so I guess I’ll have to do it later. As I step out the door, I notice how sharp and chilled the wind feels on my cheeks. As I walk down the steps, I breath in the crisp morning air. It feels good to not be breathing in dust for a change. While I’m walking I am looking at the sky, because there is not a cloud to be seen. Then, suddenly, I’m on my face. As I stand up to brush the dirt off I see what I tripped over. There’s a big hole in my front yard with something that looks rusted-over in it. I step closer and see that there is a huge tin container, probably as big as a microwave, and it’s filled with old coins! I struggle to lift it out of the hole, but eventually I get it into the house.

“Groceries can wait....” I think to myself.

After searching up what kind of coins they are, how much their worth would have been, and re-counting five times, I figure out that there is $19, 999. It’s odd that someone would put that much money under the ground, and I still can’t figure out who put it there or who was trying to dig it up. I mean, I live really far away from town and I don’t have any neighbors, so I have no clue who did that. But the most odd thing is that as I am going to leave to finally get the groceries, on my front step is a dollar-worth of the same kind of coins, with a note in familiar writing that I have a hard time reading and it says: “The last dollar, to make it even.”

“Wednesday February 18, 1732 Anne Adley

Dear Journal,

Today I saw a mouse running across the floor. I tried to catch it in a cup to take it outside, but it was too fast. So I ended up luring the mouse into the bottom bathroom cupboard with a wheel of blue cheese because I never use that specific cupboard, so it doesn’t matter if it gets stinky. As soon as the mouse went into the cupboard I slammed the door shut, and I don’t think I will ever open it again.”

I bet you all of my money that there are at least 3 secret passages in this house. The question is whether I want to find them or not… Who knows what could be in here? I think that the realtor said that it was made in 1732. I can’t believe that it hasn't fallen down yet, like all of the other houses near mine. That’s why I don’t have any neighbors, because all of the other houses either got knocked down or collapsed on their own.

Now I’m just trying to think of where in a house there would be secret passages. Maybe behind a bookshelf? Under the stairs? In a cupboard? Behind picture frames? First I look under the stairs, no luck. And I realize that there can’t be any behind picture frames because there ARE no picture frames. The only bookshelves in this house are the ones that I brought in. So that leaves cupboards.

I spend an hour looking in all of the cupboards and cabinets that are in this house and all I find is another tiny cabinet inside of a bigger one. But then, I realize that I didn’t check in the bathrooms or the laundry room! First I check the laundry room. I even move the washer and dryer, but still no luck. Then I check the upstairs bathroom, and there’s nothing in the cupboards, or behind the toilet, or anything. Next, I head downstairs and check the bathroom there, and… let me just say that I am never going back in there. I opened the worn cupboard door and do you know what I saw? A hideous mouse skeleton accompanied by a reeking, moldy wheel of cheese. I scream and instantly plug my nose, trying to hold back the wave of vomit creeping up my throat. I am very glad that I don’t have any neighbors, so that they didn’t hear that.

“Thursday February 19, 1732 Anne Adley

Dear Journal,

I attempted to make a cake today, but that was the first time that I had ever baked anything without my dad. He always made sure that I was focused, but without him, I forgot about the cake while it was in the oven. I started to read as it was cooking and I forgot all about it until I smelled something burning. I almost started a fire. Maybe I should take a break from cooking for a while.”

I look around the kitchen and it just feels… empty and lifeless. Even with a new coat of paint, it still looks dull. I think it’s because I haven’t set up anything except for the main furniture; a table, some chairs, and the essential kitchen appliances. I look at the rusted-over oven and suddenly I want to bake some cake. It feels as if my body automatically collects the ingredients and mixes them together, even though I have no clue what ingredients cake is made up of. I put the cake in the oven and close the door. “Maybe I’ll read until the timer goes off” I think. So I head up the creaky wooden stairs and sit on the window ledge to read. I look out the window and I notice that the pond in the backyard looks especially clean today. Then, I remember about the little black notebook that I found earlier. I grab it from it’s spot on the shelf and try again to read it. I begin to regret blowing off all of my lessons on cursive writing. I can only make out a few words. I keep trying to read it but the writing is too tiny and eventually I just give up.

Suddenly, I smell smoke. The cake! I run downstairs and look for any sort of bowl or bucket to fill with water in case there’s a fire. Luckily for me, the big tin that had the coins in it is still on the table from when I was counting the coins. I get some water into it as fast as I can, but the smell of smoke is getting stronger. I sprint to the kitchen with the tin, with water sloshing onto the floor with every step I take. I open the oven door, and throw the water into it. Not a good choice. Now there is loads of steam as well as smoke, and my eyes and lungs are burning, but at least there was no fire. “Guess I forgot to turn the timer on. Oops… ”

Heart pounding, I think about what would’ve happened if there WAS a fire. I don’t have any neighbors and I haven’t memorized my new address yet, so I wouldn’t have been able to tell 911 where I live and no one would’ve been close enough to see the smoke. I will definitely remember to set the timer next time.

“Friday February 20, 1732 Anne Adley

Dear Journal,

I almost died today. I only wanted to go swimming in the pond in the backyard, but apparently it’s been too long since I last swam for that. I had been wading ankle-deep, but that did not satisfy me, so I went deeper so I could actually try to swim. My foot got tangled in some plants and I didn’t notice. So when I tried to keep swimming my foot pulled me back and my head went under the water. I started to panic. I forgot how to stay afloat and I was splashing my arms and legs trying to get free of the plant's firm grip. I was swallowing and inhaling heaps of water, so I struggled to call for help, because I could not free myself from the plant's hands. My neighbor heard my screams and came to help me. I would not be alive and able to be writing this if not for him. Thank God for neighbors.”

I think I want to go swimming today.