Oleander

Chapter One:

I would really appreciate the votes. My publisher will be seeing the feedback my story gets, so I need a lot of positivity. Of course, if you absolutely hate my story you can contact me and tell me what I'm doing wrong. I love to hear all different criticism.

Feeback also *cough cough* motivates me to post updates. If I see people like the story I'm more likely to go out of my way to walk six miles to the public library where I can hijack their internet to post my chapters.

Thank you,

~Casey

I LOOKED AT the letter in my hand and back up the winding path that led to the mansion and through the orchard, from where I stood in the street. My shoes were a pair of beaten up Chucks, and my jeans had rips in the knees. Oh God, I normally wasn't caught unprepared or underdressed by the richer side of my family. I should have been wearing a fancy pair of heels, at least.

Letting down my wavy hair despite the heat, I tried to make myself look a bit more presentable. After walking a few minutes, I was glad I wasn't wearing heels. I had a ways to walk still, all an uphill battle to the freaking... castle. I was a lumbering ogre - definitely looking it - dragging myself up the path.

How my aunt managed to check her mail, I didn't know.

Was she the kind of aunt who needed help around the house, or was she young and chipper kind who looked thirty when they were fifty?

Mumbling to myself I refused to look up. Surely I'd go crazy if I saw the minuscule dent my fast-paced steps were making in the length of my walk. There was always another step tacked onto the one I previously made. This was crazy, to have this long of a driveway in the first place. A driveway that was uphill was just fucking insane.

I wondered if she had kids. See, with kids there was always a possibility to how mature, how old and how well behaved they acted. If they were teenagers, I was running for the hills. If they were younger than thirteen but older than eight, I was crying for a good hour or two. If they were younger, well... might as well go shoot myself.

I just graduated high school, wasn't I supposed to be free from babysitting?

As I made my way up the gravel driveway, beads of sweat dripped down my forehead. Thanks mom, for encouraging me to ship myself out here for the summer. All I wanted was a change, what I'm going to be stuck with now is changing diapers. Either old lady diapers, or baby diapers - neither is appealing.

The strap of my duffle bag was digging into the light sunburn I'd acquired on my shoulder. I set my luggage on the steps and rang the doorbell. The lengthy chime could be heard from inside of the house. It was a prolonged, tolling sound. Nobody came to the door. The sun beat at my back, unmerciful. I pressed the small sunbathed button again and waited. I knocked on the door, waited, and then knocked again.

Was no one home?

One of my headphones dangled in mid-air, spewing LedZeppelin. As I went to knock a third time, the door opened, and in front of me were what I thought looked like zombies. Real flesh eating, skin and bone gnawing... zombies with messy hair and pallid, dull eyes.

This was too much like every horror movie I saw. Everybody knew that rich houses like this had corporations underneath them devoted to scientific research. It was Resident Evil all over again, but in a Georgian summer heat wave, and the zombies looked genuinely concerned.

The three tall, pale boys looked at each other, wondering what was wrong with me. Had they not seen themselves in the mirror?

Or maybe this was their strategy, confusing the victim and then lunging for their throat...