The Penny family lived on 742 Anubis Avenue, where Oscar Penny's father, his grandfather, his great-grandfather, and his great-great-grandfather had lived before him.
The farmhouse itself was unimpressively shabby, though Mrs. Rose Penny had put countless hours into "sprucing it up a little", as she called it.
There were chickens for eggs, cows for milk, goats for pets, and three girls for headaches.
They were all born on the same day exactly one year apart on June 18th. If that wasn't strange enough, they were each born during a thunderstorm that brought more ghosts into the clearing than usual.
Some said it was a good omen for Nowhere, but some said it was a curse. Others said it was both, like a forest fire that scorched the trees but made room for new growth to sprout.
Over time, however, Nowhere came to the conclusion that the Penny sisters were neither a blessing nor a curse. They were simply magical.
Not magical in that they could summon lightning to their fingertips or turn a toad into an elephant.
They were magical in that they attracted the ghosts of Nowhere to themselves. They were magical in that their energy could make the ghosts appear more solidified and their voices heard.
The Penny sisters had an important job in the town of Nowhere: they were responsible for delivering the ghosts into the afterlife.
Every two years or so, a lunar eclipse would occur that strengthened the Penny girls' energy, therefore allowing them to help the ghosts into the afterlife.
The ghosts were very appreciative of this and the people of Nowhere were glad to purge their town of the spiritual clutter that the ghosts caused.
First, there was Birdie Penny, the oldest-youngest, as she called herself. On the timeline, she was born first but always felt like her sisters were older than she was. She was a girl of paradoxes. A girl of daisies and nightshade, sunshine and storm clouds. After school, she wrote the obituaries of all the ghosts that came through town and published them in the Nowhere Post. To most, she was referred to as "quiet and sweet", but she liked to think of herself as anything but. She had a special connection to the ghosts because she worked so closely with them. "Birdie's ghosts" her family called them.
Second, there was Marigold Penny, who had her life planned out and enough ambition to fuel all the cars she kept working on. Her only distractions came when a pair of attractive eyes caught her attention, though she promised herself she'd never actually settle down.
Third, there was Ophelia Penny, whose head was always stuck on a cloud, though she somehow managed to be the most practical of all the sisters when it really mattered. She was a passionate soul with a penchant for the screen (her particular role models were Elvis Presely and Cary Grant).
Their strange ability was what brought acclaim to the Penny household. Before, they had been a family of little renown, but in the seventeen years since Birdie was born, they'd become an essential part of Nowhere.
On the night of Wyatt Best's arrival, as Marigold was out chasing Bethany McFarlane the goat, Birdie Penny was hunched over her typewriter, squinting in the light of a candle.
The power had gone out, which had put her an hour behind without a lamp to see by. It had come back on a few minutes ago, but Birdie hadn't bothered to turn the lights on yet. The obituary she was working on was due in the morning.
Her dinner was left uneaten beside her after she hadn't even noticed her mother bringing it up to her.
There was a pencil she'd thought she'd lost stuck in her hair and another propped behind her ear.
Notes from her latest obituary were scribbled on the pad beside the typewriter.
Every week, there was a section in the Nowhere Post welcoming the new ghosts into Nowhere, both as a sign of respect for the dead and an attempt at easing the ghosts' pain. As you might imagine, the reality of death and having to wander around as a ghost until you were able to pass on to the afterlife was both sad and inconvenient.
"Amelia's actions created a legacy for herself," she read out loud, "that inspired others to worry a little less and dream a little more. The friends and family she left behind will remember her as a woman who stood tall, but bent down to lend a hand and--"
"Birdie, dishes!" Ophelia called from the doorway. She sauntered in with her exaggeratedly pristine walk, her round face still smudged with makeup from earlier's stage practice.
Birdie jumped at the sound of her voice and then sighed. She tossed her pencil onto the desk and tangled her fingers in her hair. "Thus my train of thought has derailed."
"Are you still writing about the woman who died from swallowing a poisonous newt?"
Birdie winced. "Yes." She surveyed her work dismally, rereading it along with Ophelia.
"It's a little too flowery for a woman who was dumb enough to swallow a reptile, isn't it?" Birdie asked.
Ophelia patted her shoulder. "It's nice, though. She'll like it."
"I'll burn it later and start over." Birdie stood up and would have fallen over if Ophelia hadn't caught her. Birdie swore under her breath. "My legs are asleep."
"Geez," Ophelia complained. "Ever heard of taking a break?"
"Clearly you aren't a writer. There's no such thing"
Once Birdie's legs regained their feeling, the girls made their way downstairs to start the dishes.
"Leave it to Marigold to abandon us while we're stuck with all the hard work," Ophelia muttered.
"Oh yes, chasing after a goat that smells like fermented old socks right when the mosquitoes come out sounds much better than being inside the house and having soapy hands."
"But the soap makes my skin dry," Ophelia replied, glaring at the lye bar resting beside the sink. "An actress must have soft hands."
Birdie rolled her eyes and took the bar of soap to scrub it against a rag. "I almost forgot I shake hands with Grace Kelly every time I see her up on a screen."
"Can you stop being sarcastic for one second?" Ophelia asked, her tone spiking into a squeaky pitch as she snatched the dish towel and began drying reluctantly as Birdie washed.
"Can you stop complaining for one second?" Birdie replied under her breath.
"You didn't wash this one." Ophelia handed Birdie a plate and Birdie had to squint to see that there was a grease smudge on the bottom of it.
"Really? You're going to make me re-wash it just for that? Just wipe it--"
"No, never," Ophelia gasped. "What are you, an animal?"
"Yes. And I eat clean freaks like you for a midnight snack."
"Girls, girls." Rose Penny, their mother, swept into the kitchen. "We're all grateful for one another, remember? Now, where's my kit? I can't find it anywhere."
"Did you check the back of the closet?" Birdie suggested.
"Yes," Rose sighed, flinging open the kitchen cabinets. "Mrs. Finch called. Her water just broke and if it's anything like last time, that baby will be here within the hour!"
Rose was a midwife.
She was the only midwife in town, and therefore the only person who brought new life into Nowhere (besides the very rare occasion of a boy being sent there to live with his Uncle Hal).
This fact made Rose a beloved member of society, but not more beloved than she was to her family. They loved her like the stars loved the night sky.
"Don't mess up all of my careful organization!" Ophelia gasped as she witnessed the decimation of the cabinet's contents as Birdie bent down to help with Rose's search.
"Opie, honey, you need to take a breath," Rose instructed.
Birdie muttered, "What she needs is a nap," but was silenced by a look from her mother.
"Found it!" Rose snatched her midwifery bag from the back of the cabinet beneath the sink and kissed each of the girls on the forehead. "I'll be back by morning, if all goes well. Stay out of trouble and please, for the love all that is holy, stop fighting. Oh, and do not let your father eat any more pie!"
With that, she was gone.
"Does that mean there's more pie?" Oscar Penny, their father, asked.
Birdie absently handed a tin of peach pie to him, gazing out the window at the pink sky stretching across the horizon. "What if I ended the obituary by saying something like, "Amelia now wakes up to a newt start every day, may she rest in peace"?"
Ophelia rolled her eyes exaggeratedly and Oscar snorted with laughter.
"I think you'd have the first lawsuit made by a ghost in Nowhere," he replied through a mouthful of pie.
"Say, Opie," Birdie said, "when is your theater production?"
"In June, why?" Ophelia replied skeptically.
Ophelia was part of the Players of Nowhere theater group, which consisted of her and four other young people. They were a newly formed group--only four months old--and Ophelia played the part of Ophelia in William Shakespeare's Ophelia. She was very amused by this fact.
"Maybe we could do an encore for the ghosts in the clearing," Birdie suggested. "I think they must get lonely sometimes."
Ophelia scoffed. "Are you crazy or something? Our team performs for regular humans. Dad, tell her that's insane."
Before Oscar could reply, the back screen door clattered open and Marigold stumbled through, red-cheeked and breathless.
"There's a boy."
Birdie rolled her eyes, knowing very well of her sister's charms. "Isn't there always?"
"No, I mean a new one. He's staying with Tomato Hal."
Now the three pairs of eyes in the kitchen turned towards her.
Oscar put down his pie tin somberly and asked, suddenly serious, "Hal Best?"
"He's his uncle."
Oscar's face darkened.
Birdie, Marigold, and Ophelia didn't know what to draw from this reaction. From what they knew, Hal Best was just the tomato grower in town.
But Oscar seemed to know something they didn't.
"Excuse me, girls," was all he said before he left the kitchen, leaving the swinging doors creaking behind him as he went
The sisters exchanged looks.
"What's his name?" Ophelia asked.
Marigold grinned. "Wyatt. Wyatt Best."
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Hey guys! I'm here sick, so I thought posting a new chapter would be just the thing to lift my spirits! XD
~What do you think about the Penny family?
~General thoughts?
Thanks so much for reading! {Don't forget to comment, vote, and share!}
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