Sometimes I have very dark thoughts about my mother thoughts sane daughter should ever have .

Sometimes , I'm not always sane .

" Addie , you're being ridiculous , " Mom says through the speaker on my phone . I glare at in response , refusing to argue with her . When I have nothing to say , she sighs loudly . I wrinkle my nose . It blows my mind that this woman always called Nana dramatic yet can't see her own flair for the dramatic .

" Just because your grandparents gave you the house doesn't mean you have to actually live in it . It's old and would be doing everyone in that city a favor if it were torn down ."

I thump my head against the headrest , rolling my eyes upward and trying to find patience weaved into the stained roof of the car .

How did I manage to get ketchup up there ?

"And just because you don't like it , doesn't mean I can't live in it ," I retort dryly.

My mother is a ***** . Plain and simple . She's always had a chip on her shoulder , and for the life of me , I can't figure out why .

"You'll be living an hour from us ! That will be incredibly inconvenient for you to come visit us , won't it ?"

Oh , how will I ever survive ?

Pretty sure my gynecologist is an hour away , too , but I still make an effort to see her once a year . And those visits are far more painful .

"Nope," I reply, popping the P. I'm over this conversation. My patience only lasts an entire sixty seconds talking to my mother . After that , I'm running on fumes and have no desire to put in any more effort to keep the conversation moving along .

If it's not one thing , it's the other . She always manages to find something to complain about . The time , it's my choice to live in this house my grandparents game to me . I grew up in Parsons manor , running alongside the ghosts in the halls and backing cookies with Nana . I have found memories . here memories I refuse to let go of just because Mom didn't get along with Nana .

I never understood the tension between them , but as I got older and started to comprehend Mom's snarkiness and understand insults for what they were , it made sense.

Nana always had a positive, sunny outlook on life , viewing the world though rose colored glasses. She was always smiling and humming , while Mom is cursed with a perpetual scowl on her face and looking at life like her glasses got smashed when she was plunged out of Nana's vagina . I don't know why her personality never developed past that of a porcupine she was never raised to be a prickly ***** .

Growing up , my mom and dad had a house only a mile away from Parsons Manor . She could barely tolerate me , so I spent most of my childhood in this house . it wasn't until I left for college , I moved in with her until I got back on my feet and my writing career took off .

And when did, I decided to travel around the country , never really settling in one place .

Nana died about a year ago , gifting me in the house in her will , but my grief hindered me from moving into Parsons Manor . Until now .

Mom sighs again through the phone . "I just wish you had more ambition in life , instead of staying in the town you grew up in , sweetie . Do something more with your life than waste away in that house like your grandmother did . I don't want you to become worthless like her . "

A snarl overtakes my face , fury tearing throughout my chest . " Hey , mom ? "

"Yes?"

"**** off ."

I hang up the phone , angrily smashing my finger into the screen until I hear the telltale chime that hate call has ended .

How dare she speak of her own mother that way when she was nothing but loved and cherished? Nana didn't treat her the way she treats me , that's for damn sure .

I rip a page from mom's book and let loose a melodramatic sigh , turning to look out my way side widow . Said house stands tall , the tip of black roof spearing through the gloomy clouds and looming over the vastly wooded area as if to say you shall fear me . Peering over my shoulder , the dense thicket of trees are no more inviting their shadows crawling from the overgrowth with outstretched claws .

I shiver , delighting in the ominous feeling radiating from the small portion of the cliff . It looks exactly as I did from childhood , and it gives me no less of a thrill to peer into the infinite blackness .

Persons Manor is stationed on a cliff side overlooking the bay with mile long driveway stretching through a heavily wooded area . The congregation of trees separates this house from the rest of the world , making you feel like you're well and truly alone .

Sometimes , it feel like you're on an entirely different planet , ostracized from civilization. The whole area has a menacing , sorrowful aura .

And I ******* love it .

The house has begun to decay , but it can be fixed up to look like new again with a bit of TLC . Hundred of vines crawl up all sides of the structure, climbing towards the gargoyles stationed on the roof on either side of manor . The back siding is fading to gray and starting to peel away , and the black paint around the windows is chipping like cheap nail polish . I'll have a hire someone to give the large front porch a facelift since it's starting to sag one side .

The lawn is long overdue for a haircut , the blades of glass nearly as tall as me , and the three acres of clearing bursting with seeds . I bet plenty of snakes have a settled in nicely since it's last been mowed .