The First White House

There was that game we'd play growing up. Not a game as much, as something to do on cartrips. Whenever you crossed a cementary, dappled with gravestones and fringed in a unkempt fence, you'd hold your breath. Mom said it was to honor the spirits, my older brother swore it was because the entities could crawl into your mouth. They were both wrong, well maybe my brother was more right.They can posses you if your not careful.

So in a way the First White House in kind of protecting everyone else from the evil ghosts. Let's think of it from their point of view: That house is blocking us from getting what we want. We must get rid of it.

Avery Johnsonm eight years old at the time, played the game everyday, wheither she was in the car, the schoolbus or even walking home. She lived in the first white house of her local cemetary and she was proud. Avery was helping people. She felt like a brave princess, fighting off ghosts for her friends. Nothing could defeat her big, white house.

One day, Avery woke to the sound of disgruntled parents shouting and the sound of shattering glass. She crawled out of bed and pressed her ear against the wall until she could desipher their conversation. "Jerry, some rapscalians painted our f***ing house!! No, I am NOT going to calm down, its vandalism! Vandalism!" her mothers shrill voice exclaimed. "I'll call the police," her father sighed, cracking her knuckled (a nervous habit) "That's all I'm asking," mother grunted. Avery wrinkled her eyebrows. Why would somebody paint their house? It was white, protecting everyone. Its colour was the reason people were safe. Plus, all her neighbors were all so nice, smiling ear-to-ear while they walked their dogs. Curious, Avery padded to her window, heaved it open and peered at her house's face. It was covered in red ink, it didn't even look like it had an original colour besides its current. "We need to paint it white again," Avery told her mother when she came downstairs, "it protects people, you know"

MaryKay James died that day. It was sudden. Her family didn't even know the cause of her sudden passing. She was just found dead in her bed, a twisted grimace plastered over her face. No scars, no knife. Nothing. Its like her hear just stopped.

They painted the house white the next day. Avery felt better, but still was upset over Mary.

Then Avery woke to even angrier screams than the day before. "NO JERRY, I WILL NOT STOP SHOUTING, I DON'T CARE AT ALL! I WANT ANSWER, JERRY. NOW. WHY ARE THESE BASTARDS PAINTING OUR HOUSE RED?"

We had the house repainted...again.

But it was red the next day.

For more than three weeks, it went back and forth, white and red, white and red, white and red. And everyday someone died. From children and grandparents, to nannied and pets. Avery was going to get to the bottom of this. She perched outside her window and waited for the people to come. She suspected it was from west-side, long-haired teens messing around in some sort of cruel joke. At about 6 AM Avery suddenly fell asleep. But the oddest thing... the last thing she remembered was her clock reading 6:66..... Avery wasn't that old, but she knew clocks didn't read 6:66. Nightmares haunted her, ghosts swirling around her house repeating rituals until blood from the damned soaked the house. Dream-Avery was curled up in their lawn, sobbing hysterically into her knees. Spirits popped up to scare her then fluttered to paint the house. Most of their screams were in a strange language but she could hear some of them saying "I WANT IT! I WANT IT! I WANT IT!"

"But if our house isn't white, we can't protect!" Avery cried, tears streaming down her flushed face. "Yes, we want it! We want it! You can't protect!"

Mother shook Avery up 'till she woke up in a cold sweat. "Sweetie, why were you screaming?" she inquired, gazing lovingly into my eyes. "We have to paint the house again!" she gasped, clawing at the window. "Its the oddest thing, the people came but couldn't get the paint to stick. 'Said they'v never seen anything like it. Maybe just too many coats? I don't know, but I kind of like red. We'll get used to it." mother smiled. Avery wrenched from her grasp, "NO! WE NEED TO PAINT! WE NEED TO PROTECT!" The harded her mother tried to calm her the more insane Avery got. Eventually, she gave up and left for work, leaving Avery alone.

When mother came home, she found Avery's door locked. At first she thought she was playing with her. "Open the door," she called. But it wouldn't budge. After unearthing a key from the box she got with the house, she found the most disturbing thing in her life. Avery had hung herself and pinned a note to her body.

"They can't get me now.

We need to paint, we need to protect.

We need to paint, we need to protect.

We need to paint, we need to protect." And over and over again.