Matured Stories


I head back over to the door, unlocking it
and pulling the wooden door towards me.
“Hello!” Maggie, the bubbly girl that showed
up on my door step, says as I’m face to face
with her.

“Hey,” I weakly say, not really in the mood
to talk.
“May I come in?” she asks, looking inside
the house. I step to the side.
“Yeah, yeah.” I lead her to the living room to
sit down on the couch, and sit across from
her on a red velvet chair.

“So,” she starts, pulling out a notepad from
her backpack, along with a pen. “I’ll ask you
questions about the house, and you just
answer them the best that you can, okay?”
she squeaks.
I stretch in my seat, nodding my head at
her. “Alright, so the house is named: The
Sexton House, correct?” I nod. She jots that
down. “How old is this house, and how long
have you lived here?” I’m not really for sure
how old the house is, all I know is that it’s

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“It’s over a hundred years old, and I’ve only
lived her for about a week now.” It feels like
longer than a week, but I know it hasn’t

“Okay… have you ever encountered Anna
Sexton?” she looks up from her pad of
paper, raising a brow. I’m debating with
myself whether I should tell her or not.

“No, I haven’t,” I lie. She’ll be turning this
paper in, and someone will end up seeing it.

If word gets around that this place is still
haunted, I’m afraid to know the town’s

“Are you in anyway related to the Sextons?”

She asks a few more questions, mainly on
the house since she believed me that I know
very little of Anna. “Well, thank you so
much for answering my questions. I’ve been
dying to get a scoop in on this house.” she
smiles, placing her belongings back in her

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“It’s no problem.” I said as she left.

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Just as I’m turning on the stove, I hear what
sounds like the creaking of the staircase.

I pause, my eyes widening. “No, no, no,” I
repeat to myself, sitting down the pan I
have in my hand.

I dart to the living room, my breathing
uneven. She can’t be upstairs, what if she
sees Anna? She would flip her s–t, and
probably make me move back to New York,
even if I am twenty-one.

Just as I enter the sitting room, I see her
nearing the top step. “Don’t go up there!” I
yell, not realizing how bad that sounds. Now
she’ll really thinks something’s up. She
snaps her in my direction, whipping her
hair across her face.

“Uh… there’s…” I mumble, silently cursing
at myself.

“There’s what?” she looks between me and
the wooden door.

“There’s rats!” I spit out the first thing that
comes to mind. A quiet gasp leaves her lips,
before she hurriedly walks back down the

“Harry! Why would you buy a house with
rats?” she screeches when she reaches me. I
just shrug, glad she didn’t actually get to see
what is really behind the door.

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* * *

It’s Sunday, and Charlie told me I didn’t
have to come in today. My mother got a call
late last night from work, notifying her that
they needed her back in the office by
Monday morning. Even though I had
dreaded my mother’s arrival, it’s been kind
of nice having her around.

After her belongings are packed, minus the
large cat, I load her luggage in the back of
my truck. I have offered to drive my mother
to the airport, but she insisted that she will
take the bus there.

I see storm
clouds rolling in, filling the sky and casting
a dark blanket over the town.
I remember who seems to pay a visit every
time the sky turns grey.

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