Chapter Text
2015
“It was real scary,” Taylor says, staring down at her shoes as she swings her feet back and forth through the air,” like one of the scary stories my older cousin used to read to me.” She shakes her head, reaching out to grab her daddy’s hand for reassurance. “There were lots of dead things in that house.”
“How about you start at the beginning,” Sidney suggests with a bright smile. Her daddy referred to it as his Hollywood Smile because it was faker than most movies. “Why’d you move in with your aunt and uncle?”
“My mama went to Heaven to be with Nana.”
“Breast cancer,” her daddy states sadly, brushing one of his large hands over her hair. “It was pretty common on Monica’s side of the family; her mother had died of it when Mon was a teenager.” Taylor looks up at her daddy, taking in the familiar despondency in his dark eyes as he stared into the camera a few feet away from them. He was always sad nowadays, only giving her small smiles when he catches her watching him. Daddy’s got a Hollywood Smile, too. “I didn’t think Tay should be at the funeral since she was only six at the time and we were going to move in with Shelby and Matt anyway, so I sent her ahead of me to settle in.”
“I missed Daddy a lot.” She squeezes his hand again, managing a smile of her own when he squeezes back. “We would FaceTime every night and he would read to me until I fell asleep.”
“She wouldn’t go to sleep if we didn’t, you see. Now she barely sleeps at all no matter what I do.” And the dark circles under her gray eyes were proof of that, though they weren’t as dark as the ones under her daddy’s eyes. “We finished the first Lord of the Rings book in two days, didn’t we, Princess?”
“Yeah, Sam’s my favorite.” He was small and brave and could do anything, that’s who Taylor wanted to be like. “We were reading Princess Bride last year, part of a chapter every night.” She turns her gaze back to her sandals, looking whiter than ever against the light brown of her skin. Her papa on her Daddy’s side was Cuban, but she got her blonde hair and gray eyes from her mama. “How much longer, Mister Sidney?”
“Just a couple hours,” he says, flashing that thousand watt smile again. “What was your first thought when you saw the farmhouse?”
“It looked like some kind of castle, like a Princess was gonna throw a big party at any minute.”
2014
“It’s real big,” Taylor says as she makes her way up the curving stairs of her new home, her aunt’s phone pressed against her ear,” even bigger than the old house, Daddy.”
“It is,” Nicolás asks, sounding equally excited to the six year old. “Are you having fun there, Princess?”
“Yeah, me and Uncle Matt went on a walk yesterday to see how far the prop… The prop…”
“Property?”
“Yeah, that’s the one. We went to see how much of it there was and there’s tons of it! Aunt Shel said I wasn’t allowed in the woods by myself ‘cause there could be snakes and crazy hillbillies.”
“Are there really crazy hillbillies there or is Shelby overreacting again?”
“Uncle matt said one of ‘em spit on the porch when they didn’t win the house.”
“That’s nice.” Taylor laughs at her daddy’s tone, finally making it to the second-floor landing. Directly across from the stairs was a plain wall with a rounded window set in the direct center, a wooden pane cutting it in half to look like partially folded wings. “Have you seen your room yet?”
“Yeah, we’re gonna paint it yellow like Winnie the Pooh!”
“How awesome is that?”
“I get to help put blue tape on everything so the paint don’t get on stuff it’s not supposed to!” She was excited about that since her mama didn’t like her messing with tape too much since she’d gotten a big wad of it in her hair when she was little. She runs across the room to the window, peering out the right side and down at the yard below; it was mostly high grass and weeds, all tangled together to create the perfect hiding place for snakes. “I think you’ll like it here, Daddy.”
“I’ll like anywhere as long as I have my Princess with me. Hey, baby, the company’s here so I have to hang up, but I’ll FaceTime you later tonight. I love you.”
“Love you too, Daddy!” She waits for the click before she lowers the phone from her ear, her smile turning into a frown as she turns away from the window. She really missed her parents, but she knew she’d be able to see her daddy in a couple of days at the most. Sighing, she takes a moment to study the landing, spotting two doors to her right and two doors on her left, though each side had a door that was even shorter than she was.
Curious as ever, Taylor moves across to the little door and pulls it open. It was just big enough for two little kids if they sat on their knees, though dust covered everything and made her sneeze. Taylor scrunches up her nose and closes the door before standing again, turning on her heel and running for the narrow staircase tucked into a corner on the left side of the room.
“I’m a little teapot, short and stout,” she sings to herself as she ascends the stairs,” here is my handle and here is my spout.” The stairs creaked even under her slight weight, but she was exploring her new house and didn’t give the wood a second thought as she continued upwards. “When I get all steamed up, here me shout: Tip me over and pour me out.” The room the stairs lead to is smaller than the one she left behind, completely emptied out with only a tiny window far above her head.
She giggles, jumping after the dust that was swirling in the beam of sunlight. Her little hands made the dust seem to dance and she danced along with it, wishing her mama was there to clap out a beat only she heard. Her mama was good at dancing even if no one else in their family was and they all used to push the furniture to the edges of the living room and dance along to whatever song came on the radio.
An echoing giggle had her sliding to a stop, letting out an oof of pain when her bottom hits the floor. A little girl was standing across the room, dressed in weird clothes and a funny white hat; her cheeks were the same color as Mama’s were the last time Taylor saw her, eyes like black pits where the sunlight hit them.
“You’re dead,” Taylor says matter-of-factly,” and you made me fall.” The little girl stares down at Taylor, her head tilted to the side like she was looking at something she liked. “What’s your name?”
“Priscilla,” the girl states, clasping her hands in front of her. “Who are you?” She had a funny accent, like the people in the history show Taylor liked to watch with her daddy on Sunday nights. Taylor wasn’t sure, but she thinks her daddy called it Irish.
“Not a’posed to tell strangers.” Priscilla nods along in agreement, gliding across the dusty floor and sitting across from Taylor with her legs folded beneath her. “How come you’re still here if you’re dead?”
“The bad lady won’t let me leave.” There was real sadness in Priscilla’s eyes as she glances down at her hands, the same kind that Taylor saw in her daddy’s eyes. “She’s not gonna let you leave either.” Taylor opened her mouth to ask what she meant, but footsteps and her uncle calling for her interrupted.
“I’m up here, Uncle Matt!” The man appeared a second later, a crease forming between his brows as he looks around.
“What are you doing all the way up here, Princess,” Matt asks.
“Dancing.” He shrugs, taking her hand in his and pulling her to her feet. She loved her uncle, especially when he’d scoop her up in his arms and run around the house with her, making airplane noises as they went. He didn’t do that today though, just leading her towards the stairs again.
When Taylor looks over her shoulder, Priscilla is gone and dust still covers the space where she had been sitting.