Greenwood Estates Lot 250

Highmark, Bayada, junk mail, and more junk mail, Kristen mumbles as she walks up the driveway. Once inside, she looks down the long hall to see a dark black wheelchair parked outside the bedroom door, as if someone hastily rushed off. A pretty Grey cat peeks her head out of the soft velvet blue cover just enough to show off her glimmering green eyes. Soft meows fill the air as to say, stay with me. Big boy, a cream-colored tabby, is sprawled out on the sofa waiting for someone to pet him, but Something's missing; the house is so quiet its defining.

Kristen finds herself staring down at the long hallway while the white walls make her feel like time is standing still. All her childhood memories flood her thought process as if someone turned the pages in a live photo album.

Christmas 1975, where are the packages hiding.

Quick check the closets before anyone notices your up.

First day of Junior High School, what should I wear?

Oh dear God, please stay coherent; if anyone notices, we're in deep trouble.

And in that instant, with the ring of the doorbell, everything vanishes. The bright white walls dull in color, and the half-packed u haul boxes, with bold lettering spelling out "G-o-o-d W-i-l-l," become painfully visible.

Ring ring, knock, knock, who could possibly know I'm here. I open the door, and I'm greeted by a teary-eyed neighbor. Really, I mumble under my breath. I know I'm not supposed to be upset, and she means well, but I'm so drained and have no empathy to console someone else. I make small talk and send her on her way.

Ok, where do I start? I walk down the hall and open the bedroom door, nope too painful to start here. Guess the second bedroom is as good as any other. I start to sort through the dresser. Wrapping paper, candles, address labels, crayons, I begin to chuckle. My mother was a collector. Everything had a second purpose; well, at least everything is organized. I make up some more boxes and label them goodwill, trash, home.

Time goes by quickly sorting and reminiscing. I am on my last drawer reading through letters from my grandmothers' sister about her brothers fighting in the war; I think I'll keep them to share. Lastly, I come across a little black Moleskine notebook.

Hmm, I don't remember seeing this book; it not like my mother didn't have books; she did since she was one to write down all her expenses; I just don't remember buying her this book.

I open the book; it is a lovely book, not like those cheap writing pads with paper that feels like plastic.

I flip through it and come across a page titled Greenwood Estates Lot 250, and the rest of the book is blank. I toss the book in the goodwill pile, lock up and head home. Saturday 2:15 am still can't sleep, so I decide to log on and see what the world is doing. As I mindless scroll Facebook, I remember Greenwood estates. I search google and get a hit. It's some resort, an exclusive resort in the Poconos. I scroll through the pictures, and suddenly, things look familiar, but how, I never have been there, or at least I didn't remember being there. The more pictures I look at, the more and more things seem too familiar. Must be tired, so I click off the light and turn on the fan.

7:00 am comes, and I head down for breakfast, and I still can't stop thinking about that place.

Well, since it's my day off, hell, who am I kidding? Every day is my day off since Covid hit and I became unemployed. So, I call my friend and decide to take a drive. It's a beautiful day, and it's about an hour's drive, and my friend wants to drive, so it's even better, I can enjoy the ride.

We take the highway up and get off our exit as the road begins to wind through a beautiful state park filled with giant oak trees and lush green rolling hills. As we crest the hill, I look to my right and see a small white abandon cottage with piles of stone in the yard. Instantly I begin to have chills. I know where I have seen this place before; it can't be real. This image keeps playing in my head where I'm sitting in the car while two people are burying someone.

Suddenly, there is a loud pop. Oh no, it's the tire. Great, it will take AAA two hours to get here; now what are we going to do. I look over at Janet; well, what do you want to do? She shrugs her shoulders and then says, hey, let’s go check out that abandoned house. I hesitate, but I suppose there is no harm, so I agree.

We walk up the road and enter the driveway; you go first, Janet whispers.

I just smirk and start walking towards the house.

The place is rundown, and the smell of moss is overwhelming. The house is dilapidated but still fully furnished, like the family just picked up and left. Pictures remain over the fireplace, and the table is even set up for dinner. The smell of mold and moss is so bad that my asthma begins to bother me, so I decide to walk outside. Still, before I walk out, I trip over a rug. Janet starts to laugh hysterically, Ha Ha, very funny, I rise and notice this weird-looking key, so I pick it up; maybe it belongs to something outside?

I take a stroll around the property and head over to the hill in the side yard, you know, the eerily familiar one. As I'm standing there, I look down and find what appears to be a lock. Maybe it's an old wine cellar? I glance around to see if anyone is looking, and I open the lock and step inside. It is dark and damp with hardly any light, yep, just as I suspected, it's a wine cellar or a kid's hideout. I light my lighter to see and as I turn around to walk out, my light shines on a shelf, a shelf with the same small black notebook as a found at my mother's.

Honk, Honk, I just about jump out of my skin; it's the AAA driver, and I hear Janet calling for me. I pick up the book and quickly shut the hatch and start heading over to the driver. Janet asks, "where were you?", just walking around, let's go. The AAA driver gets the car running, and we decide to head home. I drop Janet off; see you at work, she replies.

I rush home, and once inside, I sit at the kitchen table and proceed to open the book. The book reads, I knew you would find this. I want to tell so much, but I guess the right time never came.

I love you dearly, and you were the best thing that ever happened to me. I know you will do the right thing you always do.

Wait What? All these things race through my mind.

Is this book connected to my mother?

I quickly flip through the pages to see if there is anything else written, and, on each page, there is a $100 bill taped to the middle of the page, and a date scribbled on the top of the page. The last page has Greenwood Estates Lot 250.? What? I’m in disbelief.

I quickly remember, we never did get to that address today. I count the money, and to my surprise, the sum comes to 20,000 dollars. Whoa. What the heck does all this mean, and what is at Greenwood Estates?

The next morning, I jump in my car and head back out to Greenwood estates. It is a gated community, so you have to check-in at the guard station. He takes my license and does a double-take, and then proceeds to hand me a key. "Here you go Mrs. Smith everything is waiting for you, hope you enjoy your stay." I shake my head. Am I in some dream world? Do I even want to know?

I pull in the driveway of a large multistory home that must cost at least two million dollars. I walk inside, and the house is fully furnished and pristine. It has a sizeable second-story balcony overlooking the hillside and a fantastic pool just like the Disney Resorts one. I walk into the study, and I am taken back for a second.

In the study sits a black wheelchair.

Hmm, I shake my head and walk back.

Just as I get outback, the neighbor comes walking over. "Do you know who lives here, I ask"? No, she says, not sure, I don't see anyone, but someone has been taking care of it for the last 20 years.

We sit and continue to chat, and she tells me about her family and her mother who went missing. Missing? I ask. Yeah, that’s right they never could find her, so it's just dad and me, and he can’t walk so he uses a wheelchair; he never remarried after mom went missing.

Unfortunately, I cannot keep up on the payments, and the bank is about to repossess the house, so I will not be your neighbor for long. I will have to put dad in a home and find someplace cheap for me to live in. I could feel the blood drain out of my face, and the knot in my stomach hurt so much I could barely continue the conversation.

Well, I hope everything works out for you I say, as she stands up and walks back to her house. I am frozen to my chair. Could my parents be involved? Could they have …I cannot even bring myself to say the works.

No, I don’t know what to think and I really must get out of here.

I get up, lock the house up and get in my car. The whirlwind of thoughts makes me dizzy. A voice inside my head just keeps repeating, do the right thing, do the right thing.

I get back out of my car, ring the doorbell, and leave black Moleskine book filled with the money and the key between the door and never look back.