by Riley Ross, Sally Slayer, Kaydence Rayne, & Dovey Mayali Cralk
Chapter One
The young woman stepped out of her beat up old Ford and grinned widely, looking up at the old house in front of her. A gust of wind made her long black skirt whirl around her ankles while her blonde hair ruffled and puffs of dust danced circles on the front porch. The house, an old two-story craftsman with cream paint and lavender trim, seemed to smile back at its new owner in the bright morning sun. She had bought it all, the house and the entire surrounding land. Lockfox Valley, Wyoming was all hers.
"Welcome home, Pippa Harrington," she said to herself. Laughing joyfully out loud, she began to pull suitcases and boxes from the bed of the truck and put them all by the front door. A man in the nearest town, Wheatwick, had offered to help her unload when she had stopped for directions, but Pippa had quickly backed away from him, saying there was someone waiting to assist her. The truth was that she was alone, but she had a terrible fear of unknown men.
She didn't mind the work; she did it with a smile on her face, lightness in her heart, and singing 80’s rock ballads the whole while. Not really having that much with her, it took only an hour to get the boxes and bags moved from the truck to the porch, then from the porch to the room where each belonged.
It was only midday, so Pippa decided to take a break for some lunch and to look around her new property. When her grandparents had passed away within months of each other five years before, they had left her some money. It wasn't a huge amount, but she had let it sit in the bank to collect what little interest it could while trying to find the perfect home for herself. She wouldn't have to worry about transferring for work, as she made blankets and clothes, did paintings here and there, and had a website to sell them on that made just enough for her to live off of. If she could find a place to buy outright, she’d have one less bill since she wouldn’t have to worry about rent.
After some searching around, Pippa had decided on Wyoming and set about looking for remote places that had land with homes on them. She struck pay dirt when she found this one. The entire valley for ten square miles included the house and all mineral rights, and even had a few trees around it. And the price was only half of what she already in the bank! Asked about the low cost, the relator had scoffed and explained that the owners were simply tired of having it on the market and wanted it sold. She knew that it had been rented out before, but the occupants always moved out rather quickly. Pippa wasn't stupid, and knew there was a catch of some kind, but she was willing to tough whatever it was out, having fallen in love at first sight with the house.
Walking around outside, she marveled that the two pine trees in the front yard had managed to grow so large. They were a rather rare occurrence in the prairie land, and she felt very lucky that she had them so close. The place she had lived most of her life outside of London had had a lot of trees, and the lack of such was the only drawback she had found in her choice of locations now. With these here, though, she felt more comfortable in her decision, and was sure it would be perfect for her. She continued all around the house, taking note of the small pond in the back and the way the grass and wildflowers seemed to roll in the wind, reminding her of waves in the ocean. She smiled again, feeling happy and peaceful for the first time in a long time.
She never noticed the man watching her from the attic window.
Pippa went back inside and finished the sandwich she had picked up at a shop in Wheatwick before unpacking the kitchen. She was humming, and had just turned around to get the tablecloth for her little table when she was startled by a red-haired man standing at the other end of the kitchen, arms folded, glaring at her. She screamed and dropped the cloth in exchange for the best weapon she had at hand: an antique teapot her Gran had given to her.
"Who are you? What do you want?" she screeched at the man.
"GET OUT!" he shouted back at her with a Midwestern accent.
"Sod off! This is my house, you get out, or I'm calling the police!"
The man took a menacing step toward her as he lowered his arms and balled his hands into fists. "I said get out of here! This is my house, and you don't belong here!"
Pippa cocked an eyebrow at him and scowled. "I bought this house, clean and clear! Now leave!"
Not only was she alone with a strange man now, but he was making her feel scared and threatened. She fumbled around on the counter in front of her for the mobile phone, afraid to take her eyes off of the intruder.
He smirked. "Think you’re gonna call the cops on me? Guess again!" He flicked his hand in front of him and the cell slid away from her just as her fingers landed on it.
"How did you do that?" she asked, startled.
"I can do a lot more than that; not anything you'd want to know about, though. Now get out!" The boxes around her began to rattle and she saw his form become just a bit transparent.
Pippa shook her head and laughed suddenly, putting the teapot back down on the counter and crossing her arms, much as he had before.
His mouth dropped open. "What the hell are you doing? I said leave!"
"Ha!" she laughed, "I'm not gonna be bossed about by some ghost! Piss off; I'm trying to unpack here." With that, she bent down and retrieved the cloth, then turned her back on him to spread it out on the table, picking up her tune again.
Behind her, the man sputtered, trying to form words. She had finished setting up the table and moved on to the next box by the time he recovered. "What, Brits aren't afraid of ghosts?" he asked incredulously.
Putting pots and pans away, she tossed a glance his way. "I'm American."
"What? You have a British accent! And that’s all beside the point! Why aren't you afraid of me?"
She turned to face him with her hands on her hips. "If I explain this, will you leave me alone and let me unpack?"
Trying to look menacing despite his state of shock, he told her he'd consider it.
"Fine. My parents were American, and I was born in California. Therefore, I am American. Satisfied?"
"Satisfied? Are you kidding me? NO! You sound like you're British, and you told me to 'sod off'! And that’s not what I wanted to know, anyway! Why are you not running away screaming?"
Pippa rolled her eyes. "I grew up outside of London, but I'm American. And you’re just a shadow of who you once were, you can’t hurt me! Happy now, Casper?"
One of the pans she had just hung up flew off its hook and across the room.
"This isn't over!" he shouted at her as he disappeared.
"Well, talk about mood swings!" Pippa said to the empty kitchen. Then she shrugged and dragged the next box over to finish setting up her kitchen, in desperate need of tea or coffee, whichever she got to first.
***
In a tiny, pale blue room, the man sat there mumbling to himself. "Crazy assed woman! Who acts like talking to a ghost is no big deal? What am I gonna have to do to get her out? Gah! Where the hell did she come from?!"
