I grew up in a beautiful yellow house in the bright suburbs
of Sunset Valley. This was a nice town, a normal town. The paper was delivered
every morning promptly at 6:00. People woke up at 7:00, ate their breakfast,
and drove to work. Saturday afternoons were spent in the park, and Sunday
mornings were spent in church. It was lovely. But I was unhappy.
For starters, I have oculocutaneous albinism. This means I was born without melanin. I have white skin, white hair, and pink eyes. Some people with albinism have startling, bright, blue eyes. Some lucky people with albinism even have lavender eyes. Not me. Pink all the way. My skin is very sensitive to the sun. A few minutes in direct sunlight is all it takes to get a massive burn, so I always dress modestly: long sleeves and pants, even in summer. So, the perpetually sunny Sunset Valley? Basically a town of torture created just for me. I make sure to slather myself with sunscreen every morning, reapplying during the day depending on what I’m doing.
People always stared. They didn’t mean to, but it’s hard not to notice a snowflake in the midst of a heatstroke. When I was in school there were always jokes about my looks, especially my eyes. My red-ish eyes led to affectionate nicknames like “demon,” “vampire” and, for the well-read, “succubus.” All of these were spoken with a laugh, but I never thought it was funny. The nickname that prevailed the longest (was still used by my friends) was “Casper,” chosen for my ghost-like coloring. It was only my parents that still called me Jennifer.
For as long as I could remember, I felt as though I didn’t belong. I wasn’t sure if I would fit in anywhere, but I was convinced that Sunset Valley was the worst place for me to try. I spent my days looking through the paper to find a job somewhere else. My Master’s degree in Astronomy limited the field.
I finally found a research position in a small town called Midnight Hollow. I moved there within the month.
The town was almost the exact opposite of Sunset Valley. It
was always overcast and foggy. Even mid-day was dark. The houses weren’t like
my old neighborhood either. They were gothic in structure, and in color. I
bought a two-story, ebony hued house. It was almost a joy to unpack. I felt
like I had a chance to start over. I wasn’t going to let people bully me into
being “Casper” this time.
The darkness of the town allowed me to finally wear something that didn't have long sleeves. I enthusiastically changed into shorts and a sleeveless shirt.
My first day in the house, I heard a knock on door. A well-dressed man stood outside waiting to welcome me into the neighborhood. When I went out to shake his hand I saw something out of the corner of my eye. I turned to look. Two ghosts, not white like me, but transparent and glowing had followed him: a man in a top hat, and a thin woman. I had never seen a ghost before, but there was no doubt in my mind that’s what I was looking at now.
I screamed and fell backward against the stairs in my haste to get away. I turned and ran back into my
dark house, locking the door before I realized that locks probably didn’t mean anything to ghosts.
dark house, locking the door before I realized that locks probably didn’t mean anything to ghosts.
Despite that revelation, nothing came floating through the walls. I managed to peek through the curtains to see that the ghosts were gone, if there were ever there to begin with. I couldn’t help but question my sanity. The man was also gone, and I felt embarrassed. I hadn’t even told him my name before running and slamming the door in his face while screaming like a banshee. Great. What a perfect way to start off my new life. I wasn’t sure if I was going to fit in here after all. At least one thing was certain: this town, like me, was not normal.
