Joseph Y., 12th Grade
The
Neighbors
All I could think was that I hate wedding gifts. I felt sick to my stomach looking at the mess on the floor, not sure what to do. I told myself none of this would have every happened had I never moved into this house, or had I never invited them to my wedding. Having recently been engaged, I had needed to move from my one-person apartment in the city to a more suburban house to start a family. Weeks of searching lead me to this one house. It was three stories, at an affordable price, and at first glance, the neighbors did not appear to be that disruptive, just strange. The neighbors seemed to like antique items based on what I could see in their lawn, but the mess around their house did not mind me. Days went into weeks, and soon my wife, Jenny, and I moved into the house and already had our wedding planned. Inviting them over one weekend, we found out that they were just an older couple, maybe sixties, who have inherited much of their parents’ furniture and decorations after their death. I told them about how questionable I was about this house because it was so far away from my parents. They said they were glad we chose this house anyway. Later, Jenny said it would be silly to send them an invitation to our wedding because they lived so close, so after we talked for a while, we told them about our upcoming wedding. The older couple, Annie and Marcus, said they would love to go.
The day had come. I arrived early at the old church, the perfect location for my wife’s perfect day. Unfortunately, my parents had said they couldn’t make it to the wedding, but the note they sent said that they would be with us afterwards. I wore a traditional black suit with a long, skinny tie. I do not remember much of what happed that day. It went by in a blur; however, I do remember how beautiful Jenny looked, walking down the aisle. I thought nothing could ruin this relationship. We said our vows, and soon we were dancing at the reception. Our wedding gifts were stacked on a nearby table. All of them were wrapped except for one beautiful vase. It was tall, slim and had a small lid over the top. The second Jenny’s eye caught the vase, she squealed with excitement. It was from our neighbors. Jenny exclaimed how great it would look as a table centerpiece. There was no arguing with the bride on her wedding day. The vase was going to go exactly where she said.
We stopped by the house quickly before leaving for our honeymoon. Jenny grabbed the vase, which she noted it was a little heavy for its size. She placed it on the center of the kitchen table, and we left for one week. In the time we were gone, the whole atmosphere of our town had changed. Our neighbors’ house had been completely blocked off, and police were there. Jenny ran up to the police, curious of what happened. She broke into tears. I tried to talk to her, but all she could stutter out was some jumble of the unintelligible words. They police informed me that the neighbors were arrested for the death of Mr. and Mrs. Blanchard. They told me the bodies haven’t been found. I couldn’t hold it together. Those were my parents. I rushed inside and threw the vase onto the ground. I couldn’t stand to live with a gift given to me by murderers. The vase shattered into hundreds of pieces, and to my horror, ashes spilt all over the floor. Among the pile of ashes was a note from Annie and Marcus. Shaking, I picked up the note. It read, “Dear Mr. John Blanchard, we were heartbroken to hear your parents couldn’t be closer to your new house, so we brought them here for you. It was hard to keep it a secret. We had to send you a note earlier to explain why they wouldn’t be there for the wedding. Don’t worry, though. They’ll be with you forever now.”
All I could think was that I hate wedding gifts. I felt sick to my stomach looking at the mess on the floor, not sure what to do. I told myself none of this would have every happened had I never moved into this house, or had I never invited them to my wedding. Having recently been engaged, I had needed to move from my one-person apartment in the city to a more suburban house to start a family. Weeks of searching lead me to this one house. It was three stories, at an affordable price, and at first glance, the neighbors did not appear to be that disruptive, just strange. The neighbors seemed to like antique items based on what I could see in their lawn, but the mess around their house did not mind me. Days went into weeks, and soon my wife, Jenny, and I moved into the house and already had our wedding planned. Inviting them over one weekend, we found out that they were just an older couple, maybe sixties, who have inherited much of their parents’ furniture and decorations after their death. I told them about how questionable I was about this house because it was so far away from my parents. They said they were glad we chose this house anyway. Later, Jenny said it would be silly to send them an invitation to our wedding because they lived so close, so after we talked for a while, we told them about our upcoming wedding. The older couple, Annie and Marcus, said they would love to go.
The day had come. I arrived early at the old church, the perfect location for my wife’s perfect day. Unfortunately, my parents had said they couldn’t make it to the wedding, but the note they sent said that they would be with us afterwards. I wore a traditional black suit with a long, skinny tie. I do not remember much of what happed that day. It went by in a blur; however, I do remember how beautiful Jenny looked, walking down the aisle. I thought nothing could ruin this relationship. We said our vows, and soon we were dancing at the reception. Our wedding gifts were stacked on a nearby table. All of them were wrapped except for one beautiful vase. It was tall, slim and had a small lid over the top. The second Jenny’s eye caught the vase, she squealed with excitement. It was from our neighbors. Jenny exclaimed how great it would look as a table centerpiece. There was no arguing with the bride on her wedding day. The vase was going to go exactly where she said.
We stopped by the house quickly before leaving for our honeymoon. Jenny grabbed the vase, which she noted it was a little heavy for its size. She placed it on the center of the kitchen table, and we left for one week. In the time we were gone, the whole atmosphere of our town had changed. Our neighbors’ house had been completely blocked off, and police were there. Jenny ran up to the police, curious of what happened. She broke into tears. I tried to talk to her, but all she could stutter out was some jumble of the unintelligible words. They police informed me that the neighbors were arrested for the death of Mr. and Mrs. Blanchard. They told me the bodies haven’t been found. I couldn’t hold it together. Those were my parents. I rushed inside and threw the vase onto the ground. I couldn’t stand to live with a gift given to me by murderers. The vase shattered into hundreds of pieces, and to my horror, ashes spilt all over the floor. Among the pile of ashes was a note from Annie and Marcus. Shaking, I picked up the note. It read, “Dear Mr. John Blanchard, we were heartbroken to hear your parents couldn’t be closer to your new house, so we brought them here for you. It was hard to keep it a secret. We had to send you a note earlier to explain why they wouldn’t be there for the wedding. Don’t worry, though. They’ll be with you forever now.”