I never understood the tension between them, but as I got older and started to comprehend Mom’s snarkiness and underhanded insults for what they were, it made sense. Nana always had a positive, sunny outlook on life, viewing the world through 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 bitch. 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 that Mom moved out of town an hour away. When I quit college, I moved in with her until I got back on my feet and my writing career took off. And when it did, I decided to travel around the country, never really settling in one place. Nana died about a year ago, gifting me 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?” “Fuck off.” I hang up the phone, angrily smashing my finger into the screen until I hear the telltale chime that the call has ended. How dare she speak of her own mother that way when she was nothing but loved and cherished? Nana certainly 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 side window. Said house stands tall, the tip of the 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 this small portion of the cliff. It looks exactly as it did from my childhood, and it gives me no less of a thrill to peer into the infinite blackness.