In my case, that would mean that I still had to live at home though, due to the clause in the will. At least the University of L.A was a decent school, not that I'd actually decided on a major. We had the money now, so I could take an extra semester or two to sort things out if needed.
For now, I just had to carry the boxes out to the shed. The house was large, like six bedrooms large, and there was tons of space, so this just didn't make sense to me, but you don't turn down millions of dollars.
Besides, I only had to live in the shed for a little over a year. That was one good thing. If we'd come here when Uncle Flynn originally died, maybe dad or I would have had to spend much longer in the shed.
I guess I didn't even have to really live in the shed. The requirements really only meant that I had to sleep out here. I could manage that. The property was larger than I recalled from when we had visited when I was young, back before Uncle Flynn started going a bit loopy.
There were quite a few small groves of trees, and a well-worn trail which led from the house back to the shed.The bigger deal was the shed itself. When I walked up to it, I got this weird prickly sensation running over my skin. I'd noticed it when we first pulled onto the property, late last night, except this time it was much worse.
I had barely paid attention to it the first time. It didn't help that there was a patch of purple grass growing in a jagged line leading away from the front door of the shed.
At first, I thought it was some strange wildflower, but nope. It was just normal grass. Normal… other than the fact it was bright purple. It extended out about 10 feet from the shed and as I looked closer; it was
obvious that the ground around here had been dug up in the past.
Chemical pollution? Who knew? Uncle Flynn had been increasingly odd in the last few years of his life. It was a bit lumpy and uneven compared to the rest of the yard, which, despite being overgrown, had clearly once been well maintained.
This was strange. I could only wonder what kind of chemical could have caused normal grass to turn this color. Well, that, and to question why I had to go live in a shed which likely stored those chemicals.
Oh well, best to get it over with. I pulled out the key. It felt warm to the touch and seemed to hum in my hand as I pushed it into the lock. That was likely just my imagination, so I ignored it and turned the key. The locking mechanism gave way and soon I got my first look inside the shed.
I'd known it was a big shed from the outside, a custom build without windows and having only a single oversized door on it. At least when I looked inside and saw the riding mower, the reason for the large door made
sense.It was dimly lit inside, but there wasn't that much to see.
The odd thing was that the light was mostly coming up from the floor, or rather through the floor. I could only grin. That wasn't creepy at all. This was beginning to feel more and more like the setup for every
horror movie I'd ever watched with friends. I ignored that feeling.
Duty came first. If I was gonna have to live here, in order for my family to be taken care of, I'd get used to it.
After the weird light, the next thing I noticed was how cool it was. Outside it was August in central LA—in other words—ninety
something degrees, muggy and humid. But not inside the shed. No, in here it had to be sixty degrees with cool dry air.
That brought my first smile, at least this weird place had air conditioning. So, I looked around a bit more. Riding mower, push mower, edger, bush trimmer, one wall was dedicated to power tools for taking care
of the lawn. The back wall was a large tool bench with an assortment of hand tools that looked as extensive as any DIY box store.
To my left in the corner just after I walked in was a rake, a pair of shovels, posthole digger, and a stack of fifty-pound bags of grass seed. I reached out and grabbed the rake as I was absently looking through the
stuff. I sighed. The inside of the shed was fifteen by twenty, so even with the various tools and machinery against the walls, there was room for my bed, tv, game console and even a nightstand.
I saw a couple power outlets in the wall, so I wouldn't have to completely rough it out here, but what I didn't see was a toilet. I noticed a spot where the light coming up through the floorboards was a bit brighter than other places and took a step towards it.
Fate favors fools sometimes because my hand was still on the rake as I started to move. Behind me, I heard a noise and whirled around. There was no time to scream. I wish that I'd managed some movie hero style move, but all that I managed to do was pull the rake in front of me just as it leapt at me.
It was impossible, but there it was. Or rather, now it was trying to push past the rake. I'd call it a squirrel, but that sorta felt like calling a dinosaur an iguana. It was three feet high and standing on its two hind feet.
Its front legs reached for me. I felt searing pain in my left thigh as long nails ripped through my jeans. Its face was a slavering nightmare. The general shape and bushy tail may have belonged to a squirrel reminiscent of Scrat from those Ice Age movies, but the face was straight out of a nightmare.