A/N: Okay, so this is for a contest and the contest theme is The Mysteries of Harris Burdick, which I'm sure many of you have heard about. If you haven't it's a children's book filled with wonderful illustrations and a caption to follow each. You can find the full history of the book if you search it on Wikipedia. Anyway, my story was to go with a picture titled 'the 3rd Floor Bedroom' from this book. Soooo here it is. Hope you enjoy. (Oh, and I'm sure there are some errors in there, and I did my best with editing because I'm rushing for time. I have another entry for a different contest that I need to continue working on.)

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"We're here!"

Fantastic, I thought sarcastically.

I looked up at the house—Victorian style, and apparently a decent size for the five of us. I seriously doubted it. My new home sat on top of a poor excuse for a hill, the grass browning with patches of ground where the earth was exposed. There was a waist-high black metal gate surrounding the small 'yard'—if it was enough to be called that. From the car I could see the gate separated the similar houses with only enough space to walk to the backyard; maybe a two-foot spread.

The house itself was a russet, clay color; taller than it was wide, with a rectangular section that resembled a tower it reminded me of the haunted houses I saw in movies all the time. Though I imagined it wasn't near as interesting as one.

I made sure no cars were coming before I stepped out onto the street. I looked all around me and had to check my watch to make sure the weather wasn't deceiving me. It wasn't; nearly one o' clock, the sun should have been out, but the street was blanketed in a thick fog. The end of the road wasn't even visible. I shivered under the stillness of the winter air.

"Yay!"

I turned and heard a car door slam as my younger sister, Arielle, rushed right toward the house. I seemed to be the only one who was not happy with having to move. Sure it was bigger than the old house, but that didn't mean it was 'home'. In fact, back in Minnesota was there I considered myself home.

The gate creaked when Arielle opened it and she dashed up the cracked concrete and the stairs to the front doors.

"Can we go in? Please, Mommy please?" Arielle was jumping up and down, clapping her hands together.

"Hold on just one minute!" My mom yelled, pulling her suitcase out of the trunk and heaving it onto the ground. I slung my duffel bag over my shoulder, and followed suit through the gate and up the walkway.

I looked back and saw that Grandma was slowly getting out of the car, adjusting her glasses. She looked up at the house and the color drained from her timeworn face. Maybe I wasn't the only one unhappy about being here.

Mom finally closed the trunk, carrying around six different bags. I could hardly see her form—it was more of a giant blob of baggage. The mass stopped and I could see her look around from behind the luggage.

"Where's Frankie?" She asked, somehow managing to hold the gate open for Grandma and hold onto everything.

"I don't know," Arielle replied, shrugging her shoulders. She bounded down the steps and scoped the yard with one hand saluted over her eyes. There couldn't be many places to hide—there were no bushes, shrubs, or trees in the front yard.

"Do you want me to go look out back, Mom?" I offered, eager to get away from my mother, whom I wasn't too happy with about the move.

"If you would," she replied passively, taking the key from her pocket and attempting to insert it into the front door.

I made it down the stairs in a couple of leaps and made my way to the side of the house and I was surprised to find that despite the front yard's bareness, the sides were fully lavished with waist-high weeds. I was almost positive there were unwanted critters underneath the grass, waiting to crawl up my legs.

I rolled my eyes, silently cursing my younger brother for being curious, and sprinted as fast as I could through the weeds. When I reached the back yard, I brushed myself off, quickly checking for ticks. I was glad to see I was bug-less, and I ran my eyes over the back. It looked much like the front: bare, dying, and completely uninteresting.

Beyond the black gate was, surprisingly enough, a lush looking dip of trees and grass to a small creek, which I could now hear. On the other side of the running water was another small hill and then more houses. I sighed; at least I would have somewhere to get away from my family—even if it was only thirty feet away. I looked at the back of the house and was surprised when I spotted a window—on what looked to be the third floor—wide open.

Something in the corner of the yard moved and caught my attention. A single bush I had managed to miss; it shuddered again.

I crept as quietly as I could toward it, watching it jump every once in a while. I peered menacingly over the hedge and down into my brother's hiding spot.

"Gotcha!" I yelled, receiving a satisfying leap from my brother. I saw that he was still eating his sour Skittles from the car ride. My brother was addicted to them and could never sit still.

He looked up at me, his face now pouting. "Tessa! That wasn't funny!"

"Neither was making Mom freak out 'cause she didn't know where you were," I told him, taking him by the arm and pulling him out from behind the bush.

A wide grin broke out over his face, one that looked very much like my sister's. "So I scared her?" he asked eagerly, always wanting to worry someone.

"Yes," I told him, still dragging him by the arm towards the back door of the house. "And you probably shouldn't do it again. At least until Mom stops fretting about moving…okay?" I leaned down and put my hands on his shoulders. He looked away, defeated.

"Okay…but after that I can go back to teasing her?"

I nodded. "Sure, if your goal in life is to make Mom's hair turn grayer, faster then go right ahead."

He smiled, and tipped the package of skittles into his mouth. I knew he was sucking the sour powder out of the package. His face puckered and he licked his lips.

I laughed under my breath and tried to open the back door, but wasn't surprised to find it locked. I knocked and only moments later my mom peered through the screen at us.

"I have recovered the missing child," I reported dramatically, for Frankie's sake. He giggled.

My mom's face was stern, but I caught a flicker of a smile on her thin lips. "Yeah, well, when he gets in here he's going to be the lectured child."

Frankie's face sunk and I muttered, "Sorry, buddy. That's what you get."

He nodded, his cheerful mood returning just as quickly as it had left.

As soon as Mom opened the door, Frankie sprinted through it, running aimlessly away from our mother. It was normal—he'd run around until he finally ran out of breath and Mom would find him wherever he was hiding.

"Thank you," she said to me, walking back into what I now recognized as the kitchen.

"Yeah," I grunted, my previous mood returning to me. "Do we have rooms yet?" I asked, itching to be alone for a while—possibly to go to sleep and forget that I'd moved away from all of my friends.

"Well, Grandma's said that she doesn't care what room she gets—as long as it's not the one at the back of the house"

"The one with the window open?" I asked automatically, interrupting.

My mom's eyebrows knitted together, her forehead creased. Then her expression changed completely. It went from confused, to pale and terrified. Her hands were clenched, as was her jaw, almost as if she'd been frozen from the inside out.

"Yes," she replied, her voice trying to maintain normality, but I could hear the sudden fear behind it. "I'll have to get that fixed."

She looked down at the floor, and turned to the cooler sitting down on the counter. She began to unload the sandwiches we'd made before the car ride.

"Anyway, I've picked the one at the front of the house, that way if Frankie decides he wants a midnight dose of Skittles—I'll know about it. The twin's room will be next to mine, which leaves Grandma with the one across from mine, and you with the" she paused momentarily, and turned to me, putting on a fake smile. "The one at the end of the hallway, in the tower."

"Okay," I agreed, trying to not be frightened by the fear in my mother's eyes. "Um, when is the moving truck going to be here?"

"Hopefully soon—but it's only bringing the mattresses, television, computer…things like that. We can't move the beds until tomorrow because we only rented one truck for today and we need two for the beds," she finished, handing me my ham, cheese, and black olive sandwich.

I nodded absent mindedly, trying to think of something to do to keep my interest until the truck got here. I wasn't going to try and sleep on a wooden floor, which I'm sure it was. The house was all old-fashioned which meant carpet wasn't likely to be present in my room.

I decided I would go up and look around at the rooms to see if I'd been stuck with the worst one. Most likely, knowing my luck.

Every stair creaked with my weight on it, the same with every floorboard when I reached the first hallway. There was no way Frankie could sneak around at night, even if Mom were outside.

I peered into the first room, which was my mom's. It was spacious enough, but probably not the master bedroom. There was no bathroom attached and the wallpaper was peeling in spots. Just as I had suspected, the floor was wood and covered in dust. I munched on my sandwich, half done.

The next room was across the hall from mom's and the bathroom (which looked like it wouldn't satisfy my needs of sharing it with four other people), and I could definitely tell that Grandma had gotten the master bedroom. The ceiling inside peaked where the old fan hung from its holder, and the room itself was much larger than Mom's was. I could see the walk in closet and large bathroom from where I stood at the door.

The next was next to the bathroom and Mom's room, so it was Frankie's and Arielle's. It was the smallest of the rooms so far, but it would be a comfortable size for two six year olds. I could imagine them throwing around something important and breakable, trying to give Mom a heart attack.

At the end of the hallway was a window much like the one I'd seen from the back yard, only it was shut. And to the right was a door—the only one that was closed. I just hoped there wasn't a reason why.

I turned the golden doorknob, suddenly fearing what lay hidden in the depths of my new room to give my mother such a terrified expression. I cleared my mind and pushed past the fear, closing my eyes and flinging the door open.

Nothing jumped out at me, nor was there a loud noise. Silence filled my ears and I dared to take a peek.

I wasn't even looking into a room. Beyond the door was a set of wooden stairs that clung to the wall, spiraling upward. Just to the right of the first step was another door.

I tried to open it, but it was either jammed, or locked from the inside somehow; there was no key slot. I didn't linger too long before slowly taking the steps one at a time. Suddenly, I felt claustrophobic with the oak walls on either side of me. The stairs creaked with age and I couldn't suppress my surprise when I reached the top of them.

The room was medium sized, but large enough for me. The walls were covered in green wallpaper, dotted with white doves and outlined with light green intertwining vines. The window I'd seen from the backyard was open, a light breeze filtering through and an old radiator sitting underneath it, providing the only heat in the room. But overall, there was nothing really terrifying about it. It was a normal room. I took the last bite of my sandwich, relived, and let my bag down.

The more I examined every corner of the room, the less I was mad at my mom. Most of the dissipating anger dealt with the fact that my room was secluded and that there was a lock on the door. Which meant no randomly missing items taken by Frankie and Arielle. That was always a plus.

I walked over to the window, wondering if I'd be able to close the window myself. I braced myself and placed my hands on the shelf of the window, and pushed.

Nothing happened.

I tried again, this time grunting with force. It wouldn't even budge a centimeter. I tried multiple forces but all I managed to do was lift the ancient dust. I sneezed, finally too frustrated to continue my attempts.

I crept slowly down the stairs, still afraid one of them might break under my weight. As soon as I reached the hallway, I heard my mom.

"They're here, thank God." I heard her open the front door.

I rushed down to the first floor and peered into the front yard to see the moving truck taking up at least three spots on the side of the road.

Trying to make a run for it, I heard Mom's voice again.

"Tessa, come and help unload!"

I sighed. It was going to be a long afternoon.