Meeting the Night by Ash Knight (ink book reader .txt) 📕

Meeting the night


By: Ash Knight


Chapter 1


"Bree! Bree, are you listening to me!"
"Sorry bro, I was thinking. What were you saying?"
"I was saying how much your going to like it here. Staying here with me. " Her brother said, giving her a hopeful look in the rear view mirror.
Last month their parents had gone out one night to go on a date, but on the way, they had been in a head on collision with a semi. They had both been killed and now Bree was supposed to stay with her older brother Jack. The memory was still strong for Bree, she could remember every word from the news broadcast on the night of the collision.
But, what she remembered most wasn't the words spoken by the young newswoman, or by her baby sitter, by the words of the truck driver.


"Too the families that will be suffering because of these deaths I would like to apologize, for I did not know that my truck was going as fast as it was. If I could change anything about tonight, it would be the deaths of all these young people, and the sufferings of their families. Too these families I say, I am truly sorry for the toile this will take on all of you and I hope that someday these families will be able to forgive me."

"Sure, why not. Civilization won't miss me anyway." She said, referring to the fact that her brother lived in the middle of nowhere in a small town named Riverbend. Come on, how much lamer do you get? Riverbend, really?
"Now, Bree, don't be like that. We grew up in Riverbend. You should love the place, not hate it."
"You see, that’s the key word, should. You're my brother, so I guess its only fair to warn you now. I never do what I should. I do what I want to do. And, since you so kindly pointed out that should love this place, I shall hate it. And, yes, I do it just to spite people."
"You are a weird, creepy, and complex, little creature." He said, shaking his head as he pulled up the drive of a small white house, wooden obviously, and parked out front.
The house its self wasn't so bad. But if you added the sterio type of a happy country wife home, you saw it for what it was. Awful. There were flowerbeds all in front of the wrap around porch, the mailbox, and, a rose bush was decorating all four corners of the house.
"What do you think? Sally did it all herself." He said, pointing his chin in the direction of all the flowers.
"I think your wife just might be a stereo type, house wife." She said, grabbing her duffel bag and leaving her brother to get the box and suitcase she had brought.
"Sally, we're here! You home, babe?" He yelled as they walked into the house. The living room was a dark green, with antique furniture, and a medium sized t.v.
"Coming! I was just putting the gifts for your sister in her room!" A soprano bell sang.
"Ok, we're in the living room honey!" He yelled back.
"Gifts?" Bree asked, staring at her brother in annoyance. He may have been twelve years older than her, but he knew her low tolerance for surprises. Especially when she didn't know what they were.
"Yeah, a couple people from town who remembered mom and pop decided to send you a few welcoming gifts. Me and Sally, naturally, helped out by putting in gifts ourselves." He explained, looking at her apologetically.
Her only response was to narrow her grey eyes at her brother and give him a short silent treatment.
"So, where is the dear? You did pick her up, didn't you?" A voice said from the top of the stairs. Coming down the steps was a pretty blond with a heart shaped face and big, sky blue eyes. She was dressed casually, her hair twisted at the nape of her neck, a white t-shirt, and skinny jeans. No jewelry, except for the thin wedding band on her left hand ring finger.
"Right here she is. Bree, this is my wonderful wife, Sally. Sally, this is my baby sister, Bree." Her brother said, setting the luggage down to walk over, kiss his wife, and take her hand.
"It's wonderful to finally meet you, Bree. I've heard so much about you." Sally said, her soprano bell voice sounding like an angels compared to Bree's brother's ruff and ragged voice.
"Hi." Bree said in a detached voice.
"Bree, be nice and shake your sister-in-law's hand." Her brother said sternly.
"Fine," She said, taking Sally's hand and giving it one professional pump, then dropping it to turn and stare at her brother. "What now, daddy?" She asked, letting every drip of sarcasm out..
Her brother narrowed his eyes, and she did the same. Battle of the wills. Jack lost. But, he didn't give in.
"Well, for starters, you can go to your room and unpack, little girl."
"Fine, later." She said, she already knew where her room was. They were, after all, in their old home. Where she, and Jack had grown up most of their lives.
She had her old room; it was a small room, with a window that out looked the back yard. It had black curtains, a black carpet, and black walls. It was Goth heaven. While she was surprised her brother hadn't insisted on painting and refurnishing it, what caught her attention most, was the letter on her dresser that seemed to glow a blood red.
Walking over, she picked it up. It had her name in a fancy old-fashioned script on the red envelope. Opening it, she saw that the paper was a pale, paler that a usual pale, white. The words were black, bold, and fancy. The letter read,-


Dear Ms. Anderson,
The Remington family would like to welcome you back to your home, and, if you choose to except, to offer you a formal invitation to our home. It is an open invitation so please visit whenever you can. Our address is at the bottom of the page for you dear. We do hope you enjoy your stay, and we would like to offer our most humble apologies for what happened to your parents. Goodbye for now, Breanne.
Sincerely,
Mr. and Mrs. Remington


Our Address: 1301 Sycamore lane


Bree slowly laid the letter down. Remembering the old house at Sycamore lane. The old Barlow place, it had been empty for years. Why would people who sound so refined want that old place? She wondered.
She had always liked the old house, with its 1800's style and gothic gloom look. The five story building was wonderfull. It was better than the house on the show The Adam's Family, and she seriously loved that show. She'd fallen in love with the house the day she saw it. She had always dreamed of owning it. But she had only seen the inside of the magnificent old building once.
She had been seven years old, and she had snuck through the big iron gates in front of the Barlow drive. She had tried to get in by the front door but it wouldn't open, so she had went around back to see if there was a window, she could climb through. She had found a basement window and was about to try to get in when she heard laughing.
Quick as lightning, she had hid behind a bush just in time. Three teenage boys came around the back of the house and it looked like the two that were farther back were pushing the third one forward.
"Oh, come on guys! You can't be serious! You want me to sneak into a house where the owner killed