Welcome To Miss Alice's Wish Chapter One

Welcome to 'Miss Alice's Wish', a story crafted with care and shared chapter by chapter. Dive in and discover the world as it comes to life.

 

Miss Alice’s Wish

 

Chapter One

Joe

“Damn, it looks haunted!” My younger brother, Matt, the family dork, snickers as we park in front of the house I bought yesterday at auction.

It’s a 1921 three-bedroom craftsman I intend to make beautiful again. But right now, it’s a rundown eyesore with boarded up windows, a front yard full of overgrown weeds, peeling green paint and a roof of curling shingles.

“It is a bit creepy now, but just you wait, it’ll be fantastic when it’s all fixed up.”  I answer as I push my foot down and engage the safety brake on Dad’s old truck.

“But Joey, it’s gonna take some serious buckaroos to fix this shithole up. You got that much money?”

Just like my brother, damn. “Don’t worry, I have it under control.” I snap back, maybe a bit too quick, but there’s no way my baby brother, a children’s dentist with a thriving practice, is going to know I’m investing every last cent I have into this project.

Wanting to stop the conversation before it turns into an argument, I open my door and grab my dad’s well-worn tool belt from behind the seat. “Come on, let’s open her up and see inside.”

Matt meets me on the curb. “What if there’s a witch inside?” The look on his face reminds me of taking him trick or treating on Halloween when we were kids, he was always afraid of the scary costumes.

 I give him a brotherly elbow. “You’ve been hanging around kids too much!  There’s no damn witch in there.”

“Well, there could be spiders, snakes or bats.”

From the look on his face, he’s genuinely scared. Maybe it was a mistake to bring him with me today. “You’re being a wimp, little brother!” Shoving him towards the walkway, I add, “If there’s any bugs or animals, I’ll handle them. I just hope it doesn’t smell like a sewer.”

“Smell?” Matt puts his fingers over his nose and follows me at a turtle’s pace up the walk stopping at the bottom of the steps.

Turning back around, I grab his shirt sleeve and pull him up the stairs. “Move your ass!”

“Okay, okay.” Matt   mock whines as he trips over the last step.

 Buckling the toolbelt around my waist, I say. “Let’s do this.”  Dad’s tool belt. If he was still alive, he’d be here urging us onward. He never backed down from a project.

“Here we go.”

 We get to work with me using my dad’s crowbar on the sheet of plywood over the front door as Matt holds it steady. We have it off in no time and find our first treasure… an original stained glass and mahogany front door. Even covered in dust and grime, the window is alive with vivid colors. I smile thinking how this window spent many, many years greeting family and friends. A true treasure.

“Well, here goes nothing.” I push the heavy door open and take our first look inside.

“It’s so dark,” Matt whispers.

I roll my eyes. God, he should have been an actor. “Why are you whispering?”

“I don’t know, just seems right.” He takes another peek inside. “Maybe I’ll wait out here.”

I growl, shove him inside and hand him a flashlight. “You’re such a chicken shit. You volunteered to come with me today so you’re doing this with me, like it or not.”

I slip a headlamp on my head. “Man the fuck up.” 

 “Fine. Show me your money pit. But it smells musty and old in here plus you can see dust particles in the air. I wish we’d packed masks.”

As I step inside, I count to ten, so I don’t say something I’ll regret. Can’t he, just once, treat what I do with a bit of respect.

 After twenty years in the Army, I’m trying to find my footing as a civilian. I refuse to become a statistic, one of the many veterans who crash after leaving the military.  

 I’m good with my hands.

 All through high school I worked with my dad in his carpentry business. I know I can flip this house and make money at it.

We step directly into a large foyer. A L-shaped wooden stairway with intricate carved railings and finials shaped like pineapples takes up the right wall. There are two open doorways; one leading into the living room and one to what looks like a library since it has bookshelves running the length of the room. Both rooms have fireplaces.

I can’t stop the big smile on my face. “It’s perfect, just what I dreamed of.”

Matt shines his light up the dark stairway. “A dream? More like a nightmare. At least it doesn’t feel like it’s falling down.” He stomps on the floor to make his point.

I take a breath and ignore the nightmare remark. “Yeah, so far so good.” Matt’s right, though.  The air is stale and smells a bit like sour cheese.  But what can you expect, the house has been boarded up for years. There is a thick layer of dust on all the flat surfaces and cobwebs hang everywhere. In the living room, I squat and clear a section of floor using a tissue I had in my pocket. “Hot damn, original hardwoods.”

Matt watches over my shoulder. “Score one for the home team.”

“I hope they run through the whole house. It will save me some big moola.  Original hardwood floors will up the selling price, too.”

I groan, “Oh God, look!” The living room fireplace’s brick insert is painted a gawdy lavender. “Who would do such a thing?”

Matt laughs when he sees it. “Really? Must have been a little old lady who lived here. Who else would paint their fireplace that color?”

“Nothing a coat of paint won’t cure.” Or maybe I’ll retile it. I run my fingers through the hand carved rosettes on the wooden mantle. “Thank goodness, they left this beauty alone.”

We look through every room, upstairs and down including the basement and to be honest, the place looks pretty good. There’s lots to fix, but all doable, including replacing the knob and tube wiring and putting on a new roof. I’m sure the plumbing will need work too, it always does.

I hand Matt a pair of work gloves and open the backdoor only to come face to face with plywood. “Help me take this off. I want to check out the yard.”

“I bet it’s a jungle back here.” Matt says as we kick the wood outward onto the back porch.

The sound of windchimes and the smell of flowers greet us as we step out onto a wobbly back deck.

My eyes bug out as I do a double take. “Oh my God, it’s beautiful back here!”

A field of recently mown grass dotted with an occasional well-placed grouping of ornamental grasses and flowers fill the area. Up against the ramshackle back fence sits several fruit trees each laden with fruit, ready to pick.  It feels and looks like a well ended Japanese garden.

I’m truly awe struck. “I can’t believe this.”

Matt bounds down the creaking steps, crouches down, and pats the head of a garden gnome nestled in a grouping of pink blossoms. “It must be magic.”. He chuckles and adds, “I bet this guy comes to life at night and tends the garden.”

“Somebody does, that’s for sure” But who?”