Episode 1: Welcome Home
The car glided down the curved driveway, the tires crunching on the gravel that had long since surrendered to the encroaching weeds, and came to a stop. Emma and John stepped out, their hearts pounding with excitement and anticipation as they stood hand-in-hand in front of the towering Victorian house. It loomed before them, a majestic yet neglected silhouette against the backdrop of the pale winter sky, its once vibrant colors dulled by years of disregard. The overgrown garden, with its tangled vines, bushes with gnarled branches, and desiccated wildflowers clinging lifelessly, wrapped around the house.
"Look at this place!" Emma exclaimed, her eyes sparkling with wonder as they surveyed the intricate architecture--the gothic motifs, the steeply pitched roofs, and the ornamental trim. This place was loved by someone, once. "It's like something out of a storybook."
"More like a horror novel," John chuckled nervously. He brushed his dark hair off his forehead, then quickly added, "My aunt and uncle found this place and lived here for...something like twenty years." His eyes wandered around the facade as memories of happier times played at the corner of his mouth. "We came here a lot when I was growing up. My aunt and uncle loved this place." Then his grin faded, "But I think they were in over their head. They left, vanished, a couple of years ago, and this was left abandoned. My parents wanted nothing to do with it."
"Vanished? Like a mid-life crisis?" Emma asked as she started to walk around, admiring the house.
John's eyes, shadowed, looked down as something flashed through his mind. He drew in a deep breath then leaned back against the car, folded his arms over his chest, and brought his eyes back to Emma. He smiled. She looked like a kid waiting anxiously outside for the candy store to open. "Don't know," he finally replied. "About three, four years ago we noticed tension building between them. My parents said they were struggling with money, couldn't afford the mortgage, and taxes; and supposedly, barely had enough money to feed themselves. It got to a point where they hid from everyone. We didn't hear from them for about a year, wouldn't let anyone come by. And never responded to calls or texts. Then..." Again his mind drifted as he looked up at the house.
"Then?" Emma walked excitedly back up to him, wrapped her arms around his waist, and looked up at him. It seemed like something was gnawing at him, wanting to be said but held back. "What happened?" concern at the corner of her eyes.
"Then, seemingly overnight, they were back in the world of the living." His face brightened, the dark cloud of memories had passed, and smiled down at her. "They were happy and full of so much energy and love. More so, actually. Aunt Clara and uncle Thomas were pretty reserved people. Suddenly they were kissing and teasing each other everywhere they went. Sometimes it was a bit much, a spank here, a pinch there, as one or the other whispered into the other's ear with a flick of their tongue." John laughed to himself. "Shit, sometimes those whispers were not so quiet. I remember I had just got off work, this was a couple of months before I knew you, and my aunt and uncle invited me and my parents over for dinner. Well, I think what turned their life around was them finally letting loose their inhibitions and enjoying...well, enjoying more of the taboo."
John looked into Emma's eyes and raised his eyebrows as he said those last words. "We were sitting around the table, aunt Clara was bringing plates out to the table and had just set uncle Thomas's plate down when she cried out, standing back up quickly, she smacked my uncle across his face. My parents and I sat stunned in silence as my uncle brought his hand out from under my aunt's dress, licked his fingers, and said, rather casually, 'More please.' Well, I had never seen my mom and dad turn so red before. I couldn't contain myself and laughed out loud. My aunt pressed her hands down her dress as she looked at my uncle and said, 'Only good boys get their dessert.' As she walked back into the kitchen my uncle winked at me with a devilish grin on his face."
"They were getting a little frisky?"
He nodded, his voice softening as he spoke. "They certainly were. Maybe even more than they should have been, but it was a good thing. They appeared happier than I'd ever known them to be." His words trailed off, accompanied by a bittersweet smile that tugged at the corners of his mouth.
