In the Light of the Moon

|ONE

Someone placed a hand on my shoulder and shook me. I opened my eyes to see my smiling mother. I took my earbuds out.

"Good morning!" she cried. I fake yawned; I had been pretending to be asleep for about forty-five minutes now so I could take a break from my parent's chatter. I smiled, it's the first day of the summer break, and I just finished my senior year of high school. I glanced out my window and resisted the urge to gasp.

The house we moved into is enormous—not to mention beautiful. It stood at three stories with reddish-brown bricks on the outside. Big windows with spotless glass faced us, equipped with white windowsills. Curtains prohibited me from seeing into the house—no, mansion. Bright green grass surrounded the paved driveway, and a garden with the same type of flower, but with different shades of purple, dotted the ground near the porch. I noticed that the whole property stood in the middle of dense cypress forestry.

"Sweetie, are you coming?" I snapped out of my thoughts and faced my mother.

"Um, yeah." I grabbed my bag and climbed out of the car. "Hey, mom... are you sure we got the address correct?"

"Oh, I'm sure. This is the house your father and I went to earlier in the month."

"But how was grandma able to afford this nice of a house?"

"I don't know, sweetie."

"What type of flowers are these?" I squatted down and touched one. It looked like a tentacle with its petals in a cone shape.

"I think the real-estate lady said they're amaranths."

"Well, they're gorgeous," I mused. When I stood up, my mother had a knowing smile on her face. But before I could ask what was up, it disappeared. "Come on, let's go see the inside."

I nodded, slightly confused. What does she know that I don't? But I shrugged it off and headed into the house. Once we opened the double doors, it revealed a decently-sized foyer with oak flooring. She told me the hallway to my left is where the formal and informal living rooms, library, and office is. And the hall that went right is where the kitchen, dining room, and laundry room is. The bedrooms were on the second floor; mine and the master—which my parents claimed—while the other ten were technically guest rooms. And the attic took up the whole third floor.

When we got to the second floor, she stopped me. "You can pick your room."

I grinned and opened some doors. When I opened the third door, I knew it's the one I wanted; it had white walls, but I already had a plan to paint it, and oak flooring. In the middle of the room against the wall is the bed—the house came already furnished—and an empty, but not for long, bookshelf rested against one of the walls.

There were three other doors: A French door covered in white drapes that led to the balcony, the closet door, and the door that led to my small, personal bathroom. A desk sat in one corner, and a black leather couch with two matching chairs rested a few feet from it. No tv though, but I'm not an avid watcher anyway—I prefer to paint or go on a walk. One of the best features, in my opinion, was the fireplace. I looked forward to curling up in front of it with books and cups of tea.

After a minute or so of exploring my room, my mother opened the door, and both of my parents stepped in. "Darling, your mother and I have been talking, and we know you've been asking for an art studio... so we're going to give you the attic to use as a studio," my dad announced.

My eyes bugged. "Are you serious right now?!" they both nodded. I grinned in excitement. "That's amazing! Thank you!"

After they left, I checked out the balcony. Below me, the same emerald green grass grew, perfectly trimmed with no dead spots in sight. We didn't have a fence that separated us from the forest, either. The tall cypresses gave off an enigmatic aura, but it wasn't cold; it merely told me it had secrets, not that I couldn't find out what they were.