To Grandmother's House We Go - Writers Writing - http://maxpages.com/commentfriends/To_Grandmothers_House_We

To Grandmother's House We Go
Written by: Sara Danilewicz

"I'm not staying with that witch!" I yelled, and slammed my bedroom door as hard as I could.
"Don't you slam your door on me, young lady!" my mom shouted up the stairs.
I rolled my eyes. She was not going to make me stay at my grandmother's house for spring vacation! I, Peach, (yes that's my name and I'm a girl) am not going to spend the only two week break before school ended at that house.
For one, she is the creepiest lady… heck, she's my grandmother. Last time, I walked in on her doing actual black magic. The essence, the candles, the herbs- you name it and it was there.
The phone rang in my room and I picked it up with a sigh.
"Hello?"
"Hey, Peachy!" my best friend, Carrie said. "Any luck with not staying at granny's?"
I groaned in reply.
Carrie giggled and said in a singsong voice, "Over the river and through the woods to grandmother's house we go! The horse knows the way to carry the sleigh-"
"Oh shush your mush."
After a quick chat with Carrie, I bounded downstairs to watch television.
"No TV," my mom said, clicking it off.
"Why?" I asked, blinking in surprise.
"Tell me why you don't want to go visit my mother," she said, sitting on the white leather couch.
"Mom," I cried in agony.
"Fine then," she said, getting right back up. "You can to bed now."
"Whatever," I muttered, and trudged up to my room.
Disobeying her, I turned on the computer and entered a typing program. I smiled. She wanted reasons; I'd give her reasons.
1. She's old and boring.
2. The house is breaking down, and mom, do you want me to send up in Oz, squashing the Wicked Witch of the West?
3. Have you ever read "Midnight Wolf"? Well, Grandma lives at Midnight Wolf Lake! Ever thought about that? She could be a wolf!
Finishing, I galloped downstairs, clutching the printed paper. I handed it to my mother with glee.
She frowned as her eyes scanned the page.
Uh-oh, I thought, maybe number four was too much.
"You're going," she said, and shooed me upstairs.
It went on like that for a week. I'd come home from school, yelling how I didn't want to go, then my mom would punish me somehow. The Sunday I was supposed to go, Carrie called me with the silliest idea.
"Peach, I've got a great idea!" she shouted over the line.
"Too bad," I said, rubbing the side of my head. "You just broke my ear drum."
"Ha, ha," she said, dryly, "you crack me up."
"What's that?" I shouted. "Speak up girl!"
"Seriously," Carrie said, "you could camp out in my backyard for spring vacation so that way your mom won't find you and can't go to witch's."
"Carrie?"
"Yea?"
"You're nuts. I'm going there and there's nothing either one of us can do about it."
"Fine, fine, fine. But don't come crawling back to me when she turns you into a frog!"
It was my turn to be sarcastic, but I gave it up. It wouldn't and couldn't be that bad. Actually, I knew it would be.
The scariest part, as mentioned in my three reasons, about the house was that it was on the bay of a lake called: The Midnight Wolf Lake. Any second and the water could come and SWOOSH! The house is gone.
"This is pure torture," I said, walking up the old creaky steps of (sound effects please) the house.
"Watch your mouth," my mom warned, handing me one of suitcases.
The worst part was that I had to stay alone with the witch. My mom had a major business trip, so this was also a way to trash me.
Once the many painful good-byes were over including the part where I hang to my mom for my dear life, I said a polite hello to the witch (who I might mention was wearing a black hat) and raced up to the room I was staying in.
It wasn't much; a plain bed, dresser, and a midget sized window.
"Thank god I brought my Nick Carter pictures," I muttered. Other than that, there were no signs of real civilization. Sure there were other houses, - full of old grumpy people and lame tourists.
Passing the time, I hung as many pictures as I could and unpacked.
"Dinner!" the witch called.
"Great what are we having?" I said to myself. "Eyeballs? Or better yet, old people mush!"
I took my time going downstairs. What was there to rush about?
"Whoa!" I said, when I arrived at the table.
Sitting there, were my one and only grandmother, and a girl about my age.
I gave my grandmother a who-is-she-and-what-is-she-doing-here look. (You never know, she could be someone my grandmother let in.)
Luckily, she understood.
"Patricia Leigh-River, this is Kristen. She lives a few houses down."
Even though she said my real name, I sat down and started up a highlighted conversation with Kristen. She defiantly wasn't my type! Sure I could get along with her, but get real if I was going to be her friend. Like, whatever, and totally are her three favorite words.
Hmm, I did learn some fashion tips!
"Omigosh, is that an orange shirt in your closet?" she said, when we entered my room.
I nodded.
"Orange is totally out of season!" she bursted out.
That was the best thing I heard all vacation. Kristen was all right and all, but… you know what I mean. She was no Carrie.
"Do you have any brothers or sisters?" I asked her one day, when we sitting by the lake.
Amazingly, the lake was just a fear I overcame easily.
"Yea, a brother," she said. "I'll bring him tomorrow."
This could be good.
The day when she was supposed to come with the mystery man, I was all synched up.
"Hi, Kris," I said, opening the door. "Where's your brother?"
"Behind me," she answered.
I peeked and almost fell over in surprise. Her brother was a little kid! We ended up babysitting, and the kid was actually kinda cool. Also surprising with a sister like Kristen,
So the whole stay wasn't that bad. It could have been worse. My Nick Carter pictures could have ripped. Seriously. Kristen could have asked me to join the Fashion Society.

The
End

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