DΛY ӨПΣ

"It's nothing a broom can't fix, right?"

Stepping out from the passenger seat of the shabby Honda Accord with a pop of my stiff joints, I let out a deep sigh. My shoes planted firmly into the gravel beneath me and emits a series of quiet 'crunch!'s as I walk around the car so I'm facing the house head-on. I lean against the hood and wait.

 From the drivers seat, I narrowly avoid the door as a much older man follows in my wake and steps out. He twirls a set of keys in his hands as he plants them on his hips, a triumphant grin spreading across his matured face. Together we stared at the run down double story house in all its crooked glory.

"Add a couple thousand dollars worth in maintenance then we're ready to go pops," I responded after a momentary silence, shoving my hands into my pockets. "How did you manage to find this place anyway?"

The house, whilst visibly old, was nonetheless impressive. It was a ghost of what once was a beautiful mansion. The only downside? It was in the middle of nowhere.

It was only two weeks ago today when dad suddenly told me we'd be moving somewhere more down south, an unheard of town called 'Eden.' That was the first time I'd ever heard of this place. After an extensive eight hours of googling all I could about this town I'd come back with basically nothing: no reason to not go, no reason to complain and throw one of my 'young adult temper tantrums because I don't want to leave my old life behind' type ordeal. I didn't like change. But here I am now. 

Curious name for a town, I scoff inwardly.

"I had some real estate agent contact me a month ago," my dad shrugs, his voice tearing me out of my thoughts and back to reality. Dusting off his pants he turned abruptly and held out an arm, cheeky. "Lets get a closer look."

With a playful roll of my eyes, I let a grin cross my own lips as I take hold of his arm. Sure, I was unhappy with this sudden move. Perhaps it was my stubborn-ness and the constant need to say 'no, you can't make me!' that made me so quiet on the drive over. But in this moment I will myself to push it aside. My dad was an over eager kind-hearted man. He only ever wanted what was best for us and our mini family. Now that I think about it, I couldn't remember the last time he even went out on a date with a woman; (definitely because of that one time he brought a woman home and I stared at her from the kitchen when his back was turned. The minute we met eyes I sliced my finger over my neck in a "you're done for" motion. Needless to say, she never came back ever again and he still didn't know why. The last thing she told him was a curt "keep that demon child away from me!" before it went radio silent. Maybe she's dead.)

But aside from that, I knew the real reason it was just the two of us. He was still hung up on the death of my mother from when I was just a child. I never met her, but from what I'd been told-- I was just like her.

So I will myself to push my grudges aside as his man-child laughter consumed the air. Our arms soon detach from one another as we walk up the driveway and closer towards the house. The large patio creaked as we made our way up the stairs and approached the front door. Seeing it for the first time I couldn't help but gaze in awe. Intricate patterns engraved into its worn down mahogany wood caught my attention instantly.

"Eden." I whispered, reaching my hand up to trace my over the etching. I could feel a static in my fingertips as it traced the wood, making it almost impossible for me to tear my gaze away. I jerked back when my dad suddenly turned around in curiosity. "Huh?"

He looked at the door frame, to me, then back at the door frame.

"Kid I think your dyslexia's getting worse." He joked, shaking his head. He fumbles around with the keys in his hands as he tries fitting the right one to the lock. I knew he meant no harm but confused, and honestly a bit hurt, I stood my ground. "What's that suppose to mean?"

"It doesn't say Eden. Hell, I wouldn't even know if it did because whatever that is isn't English."

What? Confused, I looked back at the wood and-- as my luck had it-- he was right. The words which I could've sworn looked so clear and coherent only seconds before now just looked like everything else. A jumbled mess.

I was only five when I was diagnosed with dyslexia. At the time we thought my inability to read and my delay in learning new things was just a part of my growing up. That perhaps I just needed a little longer. But lowe and behold after a long doctors visit we were given the diagnosis. I shake my head and push the thought to the back of my