The Secret Life of Alexia Clark

I shut the front door of the small farmhouse to escape from the sudden downpour rain, and placed the last box onto the hardwood floor. I looked around; the dark floral wallpaper dated the room. It’s true, it wasn’t the newest or best house on the block, but it was mine. I had moved from apartment to apartment since as long as I could remember, I was happy to finally have a place to call my own.

I still couldn’t believe how lucky I was… to have the opportunity to live in this house for one year and be given $20,000. If I could make it five years, it would be sold to me at a fraction of the market price. I just needed to pay all of the bills, and keep up with maintenance until then. I was a distant relative of the owner, though I had never met him, and was told he wanted to keep the property in the family. But who am I to judge?

The lights flickered as I walked into the kitchen. Creepy.

I rung my damp hair out over the sink, and then pulled it into a messy bun while it dried. The scar on my arm, visible from the under the wet shirt. Now to find the box with my clothes… I walked back to the boxes stacked along the hall. The sound of a door creaking stopped me in my tracks. I looked behind me, and noticed a beam of light beside the doorway. What the heck?

I went to investigate. On my way there I tripped over a loose floorboard. I bent down to fix it and noticed it wasn’t attached at all. I pulled it up and wondered if I even had nails to fix it. I don’t even think I owned a hammer.

Suddenly, I noticed something sticking out from the opening of the floorboard. I tugged it to the opening and pulled it out. A little black book. Weird. How did this get there? I removed the book and replaced the board back to its rightful place.

I organized the boxes, and placed them in their rightful location: kitchen, dining room, bedroom, closet, pantry. Thank goodness for labeling!

My phone buzzed in my pocket. I accidently tripped over the pantry box. Flour spilled all over the floor. Oh man. I’ll worry about it later.

“Hello?”

“Hey Jenny! How’s your home looking? I have the number you were wanting for the immigration lawyer for your aunt’s case.”

“Oh it’s all great! Hold on Tom, let me find a pen!” I rummaged about the ‘office’ box, “Aha! Go on Tom.”

I scribbled the number down in the little black book.

“Thank you so much Tom. I’ll call them first thing in the morning. Have a good night,” I yawned as I hung up the phone.

Time for bed in my new home! I smiled at the thought as I searched for my box labeled “clothes.”

I woke to the sun shining through the window. I went to the kitchen to setup a pot of water on the stove for some instant coffee and to make more progress with the boxes.

I saw the little black book from the corner of my eye beside the moving box. Oh yea! I was going to call the lawyer this morning. I guess I need to add a hammer and nails to my shopping list.

I opened the book to get the number. What the…? Below the number were words I didn’t write:

“That’s not the number you need... Who do you need to call? Ghost Busters! XOXO Alexia Clark”

I dropped the book onto the floor. Did someone come into my home last night while I was sleeping? I looked around; they didn’t seem to touch anything… everything was exactly where I had left it. Except… didn’t I spill flour last night? I don’t remember cleaning it. What’s going on here?

I felt a tap on my shoulder, and looked behind me… the water for the coffee was beginning to boil over. I’ve been here less than 12 hours and already I was losing it.

I decided to continue unpacking boxes and tried to forget about the strange occurrences. I promised myself that I wouldn’t let anything get in the way of the happiness of my first full day in my new home. Nothing.

I made myself a warm cup of coffee and continued on. I worked through lunch, building up an appetite. Suddenly, my phone buzzed again.

“Hey Jen, Tilda wants to know if you called the lawyer yet? She’s been blowing up my phone all morning.”

“Oh sorry Tom. I had a weird morning. Let me call now.” I hung up and took a deep breath.

I picked up the little black book and opened it to the number. A new message.

“Don’t be scared Jenny. I was only kidding before. I’m a nice ghost. Did you know we are related? That’s why this house had to stay in the family. Family is everything. Turn to the back page of this book. you can learn more about me.”

I flipped through the pages and found a clipped newspaper article.

Missing 16-year-old girl disappears without a trace

Alexia Clark was last seen at Panther Field stadium just after the Martin High’s homecoming football game on October 25, 1954. If anyone has any information, they are urged to reach out to the police.

At the top of the article was an image of Alexia smiling. Poor Alexia. I flipped back to the front of the book and scribbled:

“What happened? Who did this to you?”

After a few moments, ink began to fill the page.

“It was my mom, your great aunt on Tilda's side. But it’s not what you think. A few years before I was diagnosed with leukemia. My mom was desperate. This was the only way she could keep me. The old man who owned the house before, was my brother. He’s developed Parkinson’s disease and is moving into an assistant living home.”

I shut the book. Well… isn’t this just the worst? So close to complete and utter happiness. I grabbed my phone out of my pocket and punched in the numbers.

“Hey Henry, what’s the name of your therapist? I think I’ve hit rock bottom.” I hung up the phone and started to pack all of the contents back into the boxes, and carried them out to my jeep. Sorry Tilda, I’m not about to get caught up in your magical mayhem again.

I looked down at the scar on my arm. I had narrowly escaped that encounter. Tilda promised me no more funny business and that moving out here would be a fresh start. Goes to show... be careful with who you trust.

Within three hours, I was all packed up and out of there.

Not to day Satan. Not today.