Abandoned by Abigail Livinghouse (distant reading txt) 📕

The house had gone up in value, and considering the softened market, the price of the old school would just skyrocket even further with time. Tessie groaned inwardly. Throughout the remodel things had gotten worse. Tessie felt sick every time she set foot inside the home, and she developed breathing problems whenever she entered the kitchen, which did not surprise her.

She kept the notebook she had found there. She had read the story at least ten times. The style and the hand that the story was written in did not add up with the characteristics of a child. Tessie wished more than ever to know if it was a true story, if the little Cynthia really did exist at a time.

“Hello”, a voice whispered in her ear.

She gasped, spinning around and clenching her fists, preparing for a fight.

A tall, lean blond boy with eyes the color of the sky on a sunny day leaned against the fence, his expression teasing.

“Hey”, he waved, grinning. Tessie scowled.

“Who the hell are you?” She nearly shouted.

He laughed. “Chill girl, I live next door.”

He jutted his thumb over to a house about two miles away from the school. The home was barely noticeable, you could hardly see it from where they were standing.

“That’s not exactly next door.” Tessie said, eyeing the kid suspiciously.

He looked about her age. He waggled his eyebrows jokingly. She rolled her eyes.

“I’m Chip”, the boy said, extending his hand through the fence for her to shake it.

She grasped it, “Tessie.”

His hand was rough, probably from working on the expansive house and all the land around it, which required hours of manual labor that probably was his responsibility.

“I haven’t seen you around. You just moved here?” He asked.

Tessie nodded. Her parents had bought the place months ago, but had just finished the renovations a few weeks ago. “Yes. We just moved in last week.”

Chip nodded, looking impressed at the large building. He shielded his eyes from the sun as he gazed up at the old school.

 “Chester Elementary. My parents went there.” He said.

Yeah, yours and everyone else’s. Tessie thought. Chip’s eyes returned to Tessie.

 “You going to Chester High in the fall?” He asked.

“None of your business.” She responded defensively. He chuckled again.

“Feisty. Ah well, see you around Tessie.” He said, jumping away from her fence and sprinting back to his house.

Tessie’s eyes narrowed. He was one odd kid. Or maybe he was just annoying. Probably.

The Porters were very untraditional, they ate dinner in the living room. Tessie sat on the sofa, where her parents lounged on the loveseat.

“What do you think of the renovation, Tessie?” Mr. Porter asked her, sphering a piece of meatloaf and popping it in his mouth.

Tessie played around with her food, not really eating anything. Her appetite always deserted her when she was in the school.

“It’s fine.” She responded flatly.

Mr. Porter scowled, observing Tessie’s clammy skin and dull green eyes, which were usually glowing.

“Are you feeling okay?” He asked her.

She looked up at him, her lip curling as her temper shot up into the danger zone.

 “Of course I’m not okay. I hate it here. I wish we had never moved. I absolutely loathe this place.” Her tone was harsh, even though she spoke calmly.

 She could tell that her words had stung her parents. They both looked at her with wounded expressions that quickly turned into furious ones.

“You do not speak to us like that, young lady.” Her mother said, placing her half eaten food on the coffee table and standing up.

Tessie carelessly dropped her plate on the table, where some of her food toppled over onto the floor.

“Punish me, send me away to boarding school. I don’t care. In fact, please do send me away to maybe a military school. Anything to get out of this hellhole.” Tessie said with venom.

Her parents both stared at her in surprise and anger. She threw her napkin down. “You know what. I’ll see you later. I’ll be in my room.”

She left calmly, climbing the staircase to her bedroom. Tessie’s room was painted midnight blue, and dark curtains repelled any light that tried to seep into her bedroom. All the furniture was dark wooden, even her bed sheets were black or dark blue.

Tessie groaned as she fell onto her bed, staring up at the ceiling. She had a terrible headache, she knew, that no drug could take care of. This place was draining the life out of her, and she hated it. She hated the building. It had such a large and terrible influence on her that if she had it her way, she would’ve had it torn down the moment anyone would tell her it was ready for demolition.

Tessie sneered, her dark red hair sticking to her face from her sweating. She absolutely hated it here. Ever since she set foot in the building, she had felt a strange electric charge in the air, which had progressively gotten worse over time. But what could she do?

Something brushed her shoulder. She immediately sat straight up, alert as her eyes darted around the room. She appeared to be alone, but she did not feel like she was. Something was tugging at her, telling her to go to her desk, which rested in the corner of the room.

She got up, and with the guide of the invisible force encouraging her, she walked forward until she was standing over her desk. She realized what was in the desk that had drawn her to it.

She reached inside and pulled out the notebook where Cynthia’s life story was written. She swallowed, her fingers shaky as she gripped the cover. She felt as if a spotlight was shining down on her, waiting for her to make a move.

Tessie opened the notebook, and what she saw made her heart leap. The pages were blank. Completely untouched, not even worn from time. Tessie dropped the notebook, a small scream escaping her lips before she covered her mouth with her hand. This could not be happening.

Tessie gripped the edge of the desk, trembling from fear and shock. Was she crazy? The words had been there. She could not have imagined such a sorrowful story.

What if she was crazy? No. She refused to think she was insane. That story was not made up from Tessie’s imagination, it could not be. She just wished she knew who the little Cynthia girl was, and if she was real. She also would like to know who wrote the story.

Tessie shut the notebook, pulling a laptop out of her desk and stetting it on top. It was time to do some research.

       Tessie scrolled through the many online articles about children who had died during the 1880s. There was one little girl, Cynthia Evans. The name caught Tessie’s eye since it was a Cynthia, and the date of birth was 1881, which matched the birthday in the story that had mysteriously vanished.

Cynthia Evans was born here in Montana not far from Chester. Her younger sister whose name was not mentioned, had passed away only a few years after her birth. Her parents weren’t really mentioned, except that their names were Theresa and Jonathan Evans. The article was focused mainly on Cynthia herself.

At the age of six she knew how to play the violin and piano. She had wished to become a musical protégé when she grew up, but those dreams were thwarted when she turned seven and was diagnosed with lung cancer.

Tessie’s heart pounded at the words typed on the screen. This story was almost an identical copy to the one that had been written in the notebook, aside from a few missing details, it was nearly exactly the same.

Tessie was at the public library, afraid to do the research in the building. She tapped her foot nervously on the linoleum floor as she read. The rest of the article talked about Cynthia’s date of birth and death, July 17th, 1881- January 6th, 1888. Cynthia had died just a few months before her eighth birthday.

Tessie exited out of the page and got up, taking an armful of books with her. She had checked out Modern Hauntings, Visions: A Psychic’s Guide to Coping and Helping Others, and a few other stories about haunted spots in Montana and just how to deal with spirits. 

She zipped the books up in her backpack, and then threw it over her shoulder, getting on her bike and beginning to pedal. She had to work her legs fiercely in order to get up the hill that led to the school, but once she was up there and shining with sweat, she threw her bike down and headed inside.

Her parents had gone out, which was strange, usually they liked to make arrangements to have people come here to show off their wonderful investment, oh well. Tessie dropped her backpack in her room and removed the books, throwing them on her bed. She grabbed a small notebook and pen before heading outside.

Tessie enjoyed artwork and drawing, she loved drawing nature. Maybe drawing would get her mind off of things. She sat down on the ground, beginning to sketch a detailed picture of a dandelion when she saw Chip in the cornfield behind his house, removing good and bad stocks.

“Chip!” She called, dropping what she was doing and running over to him.

 He looked up at her and a grin spread across his face. He was wearing jeans overalls and was shirtless. He had a straw hat on. Tessie would’ve laughed at his appearance any other time. He was the picture perfect country boy. Chip leaned against his plow as he looked at Tessie.

 “Hello, what can I do for you?” He asked.

 She hardened her tone, her eyes cold. “I want you to tell me everything you know about Chester Elementary School.”

 He scowled, his blond eyebrows coming together in confusion. “I thought your family would’ve known all about the place, considering you bought it. If not, then it’s going to take time to tell you everything about it.”

“I got time.” Tessie said.

He shrugged, walking over and setting the plow against the side of his large farmhouse. He wiped his hands on his jeans. “Alright. Do you wanna come in? I’m sure Mom won’t mind.”

 Tessie nodded. “Sure. Thank you.”

She followed Chip inside the house, which was just as old fashioned country style as it was on the outside. With wooden furniture, flowered wallpaper, and even a rocking chair. They entered the kitchen where a plump woman scrubbed dishes in the