The Family Reunion

Dorothy walked to the door of her mother's house. It was a simple, cottage-like house. It had yellow walls and white trim, along with a white deck and a lake behind. It had trees surrounding it and one had a small tire-swing hanging off of a branch.

Dorothy sighed and knocked on the door, the paint coming off at her touch. A bang came from inside and the sound of a pot falling down. A brief "dammit" and a quick shuffling of slippered feet later, the door opened. Dorothy saw her mother, her hair in disarray and a flowered dress hanging from her saggy arms.

"Hey, mom," Dorothy said, stuffing her hands into her warm pockets. Her mother, not noticing Dorothy's reluctance, embraced her, squeezing her hard. Dorothy gasped and pulled away, walking around her mom and into the house.

Her mother's house was a warm, yellow house. It was old, but the flower-print wall paper was still up, glistening as if it had just been put up. Pots and pans lay around the counter and one pot was on the floor, a splatter of mashed potatoes under it.

A candle lit up the small sitting room, the walls glowing in the dimly-lit evening. Dorothy rubbed her hands together and sat on the couch, the uncomfortable fibers scratching at her legs. Her mom sat next to her, smoothing her dress over her knees.

"So," her mother started. "What have you been up to?" Although a simple question, Dorothy fiddled with the zipper on the edge of the couch. She hadn't spoken to her mother in years, and this seemed like a "last-time-I-am-ever-doing-this" kind of thing. So, she spoke softly.

"I work at a department store in New York City and have a small apartment close by. I have a dog named Ginger, who is staying at a friends house, and a-mom, what are you doing," Dorothy managed to say before her mother sighed happily. "And what? A boyfriend? You should have brought him," she said, smiling. Dorothy shook her head. She had no boyfriend, not since she left this small town. She had no plans of having one soon.

"Um, when is everyone arriving?" Dorothy decided that, if she could steer away from this topic, she might actually enjoy this week.

"Tomorrow. I already have everything planned out," her mother said, plopping a list into Dorothy's lap. It had a list of activities, each one including more family time than the last. Dorothy sighed, knowing she couldn't do anything about it.

Anyway, Dorothy and her mother spent the rest of the night cooking up food for Thanksgiving. They made turkey, cranberry jelly, more mashed potatoes, pie, etc. Dorothy had fun, even though she wouldn't admit it. Afterwards, Dorothy brought her canvas bag up to the bedroom and sat down.

The room she was staying in was the attic, the room she had as a child. The roof of it was slanted, on account of it being the attic. The walls were painted a cool beige and had a skylight at the top. The bed was a rickety, metal cot with a yellowing mattress and a moth-eaten blanket, but Dorothy didn't mind. She un-packed her bag, putting clothing into the warped wardrobe and a worn book onto the old bedside table. Dorothy changed into her pajamas and slid under the blanket. She grabbed the book and turned on the small oil lamp on the table. She read until late, finally getting to sleep.

;

The next morning, Dorothy woke up to the sound of gravel from the driving banging against the windows. Dorothy combed her hair and put on a nice dress, making her way down to the downstairs window. A sleek, purple car pulled up into the driveway, and Dorothy groaned.

The driver-side door opened and a tall, stout man stepped out. He had a white shirt covered in black suspenders, along with dark loafers. He, instead of waiting for anybody else to get out of the car, opened the passenger-side door and then the door behind it. He bowed and said "Hello, madame and company."

A thin woman walked out of the car. She had a dress on that went to her knees and matched the style of the car: glittery, purple, and sleek. Dorothy, out of envy, looked down at her solemn dress with a lace cover. She fled upstairs, wanting to change into something a little better. Meanwhile, the woman tucked a bit of the corset she wore back into the dress and smoothed out her hairspray-covered hair. The other door opened and a small girl in a pale, pink dress hopped out, her curled, brunette hair bouncing. She ran her fingers over her hair and then ran to the swing, jumping on it and going back and forth. Her mother snapped and the girl stopped and ran back, standing up straight.

Dorothy came back down the stairs just as another car pulled up. A stout man in a t-shirt and jeans came out of a black pickup truck, along with a wide woman with a beautiful dress on. She held the man's hand and they walked to the door, a small boy in tow.

Yet another car showed up, this one occupied by a blonde-haired boy and a strawberry-blonde haired girl. They too walked to the door hand-in-hand, giggling as they went.

A few more cars showed up. One had a young man, one had an old man, one had a whole family while one had a single man. It was crazy, Dorothy thought, how many people came to just a measly Thanksgiving party.

Finally, the last car pulled up. It was a small car, presumably from the 1950s, but the person who came out was not a small man. He was tall and strong, his hair curly and short. He walked to the door and waited with the other people.

Dorothy's mother opened the door and let them in. They infested the house, sitting on any chair and just being crazy. A few hours later, it was dusk. Everybody was sitting at the table, eating and talking.

Dorothy picked at her food, looking down at the plate and trying to ignore the eyes. Everybody was going around the table, introducing themselves.

The woman with the purple dress said "I am Isabelle Cane. I am the cousin of Dorothy," she said, gesturing at her, "and I live in a beautiful mansion with my daughter, Bella." The little girl smiled and said "I'm Bella!"

Everyone went around, saying who they were. The man with blonde hair and the woman with strawberry-blonde hair were named Paul and Paula, and they were engaged. Dorothy tried not to gag. The man and the wide woman and the little boy were named, in order, Dan, Helena, and Gregory. The list went on and on, some including a cousin named Barry, a sibling by the name James, and a niece named Barbara.

While eating, it eventually got to Dorothy. She coughed, watching everyone watching her. "Hey, my name is Dorothy Cane. I am the, somehow, cousin and sibling and niece and child to many of you. I stay in a small apartment over in New York City. Currently, I have no children and no significant others. Um, so yeah," she said bluntly. They all smiled and continued eating.

After dinner, Dorothy went to clean the dishes. Paul followed her. "Hey, sis." Paul smiled solemnly as he steadied himself on the counter. Dorothy ignored him and kept on washing the dishes in the sink. Paul nudged her with his shoulder, trying to talk.

"What do you want, Paul?" Dorothy said, trying to not talk. Paul's small smile faded and he said "I just don't understand why you didn't come back sooner. I know it was hard for you but-"

"NO, YOU DON'T KNOW!" A plate fell to the ground and broke. Paul looked at Dorothy right in her pale, blue eyes and said "You can't run forever. You are going to have to face whatever it is that is wrong, and I can help you."

Dorothy groaned. "No, you can't."

Paul scoffed and walked off, muttering something. Dorothy felt tears burning in her eyes and walked outside. He couldn't find out. She grabbed a shovel from the door.

Dorothy walked to the tree with the swing on it and used the shovel to dig. She digged deep under the tree, until a little box showed. Dorothy picked it up and carried it, smelling the gross stench of rotten flesh and old paper. She brought it to the lake, now a dark lagoon in the midnight light.

Dorothy held back tears as she threw the box into the lake, watching it sink into the tar-looking liquid. She then walked back to the house, her fears far behind her.

;

"Welcome to Camp Cane! This camp for girls was built on the Cane land, a piece of wilderness Ophelia Cane turned into a family home. Bella Cane, the last person to live in the house after every other Cane went missing, turned this beautiful place into a camp for all of you. Some say, a fortune is hidden somewhere here. Can you find it?"

Delila smiled as the camp counselor finished her spiel. Her group walked over to the lake and everyone jumped in to swim. Delila slapped her goggles on and dove in, swimming straight to the bottom. Suddenly, she saw a brown thing sitting under seaweed. She swam down and started ripping away the green. Delila grabbed the bottom and swam up to the surface.

Sitting on the dock, Delila opened the box. Bones sat in it, and a small card that had been preserved by the box sat on top.

It said "I am very sorry, if you are reading this, about what I did. Here lie the bones of my husband, George. Please forgive me. I killed him. Out of jealousy. I am going to run away and never come back. But, I will come back when the time is right and get rid of the rest. Sincerely, Dorothy Cane."

Delila gasped and ran inside to the counselor, not noticing the stack of arrows and decaying bodies looking out of the attic window.