دانلود کتاب haunting adeline

At times, I can’t help but have unsettling thoughts about my mother—thoughts that seem entirely unreasonable for any sane daughter. But there are moments when I’m not quite in my right mind.”Addie, you’re being ridiculous,” Mom’s voice comes through the phone speaker. I glance at it with irritation, choosing not to engage in yet another argument. My silence prompts a loud sigh from her. I wrinkle my nose, bemused by how she always criticized Nana for being dramatic, yet remains oblivious to her own theatrical tendencies.My relationship with my mother has always been difficult. She often seems to carry a burden that I can’t quite understand. Recently, she commented, “Living an hour away from us will make it challenging for you to visit, won’t it?” Her words felt like a familiar critique.I couldn’t help but think sarcastically about how I’d manage. After all, I travel the same distance to see my gynecologist annually, despite the discomfort of those appointments.I simply responded, “Nope,” emphasizing the ‘P’ as I quickly lost interest in the discussion. My patience wears thin after about a minute of talking with her, and then I find it hard to muster any enthusiasm to continue. She’s always able to find something to criticize or complain about.I never fully grasped the tension between them, but as I matured and began to recognize Mom’s sarcasm and sly remarks, it started to make sense. Nana always radiated positivity, viewing life with optimism. She was constantly smiling and humming, whereas Mom carries a permanent scowl, seeing the world as if her rose-colored glasses shattered upon entering it. I’m not sure why her personality turned out that way.As a child, my parents lived just a mile from Parsons Manor. My relationship with my mom was strained, so I spent most of my formative years at the Manor. Only after I headed off to college did my mom relocate about an hour away. When I eventually left college , I moved in with her until my writing career began to flourish .With my newfound success, I took to traveling across the country, never settling down.About a year ago, my Nana passed away and left me the house in her will. However, my sorrow delayed my moving into Parsons Manor — until now .I h e a r my mom s g h over the phone.casting an imposing presence over the heavily wooded area as if declaring you should fear me. Glancing back, the thick forest is no more inviting, its shadows creeping with extended claws from the tangled undergrowth. I shiver, relishing the eerie sensation emanating from this small section of the cliff. It looks just as it did in my childhood, and the thrill of peering into the boundless darkness is as exhilarating as ever.

showing signs of decay, yet with some T L C , it can be restored to its original glory . Numerous vines scale the walls of the manor, s t r e t c h i n g toward the gargoyles perched on the roof edges.desperately needs trimming; the grass has grown almost as tall as I am, and the three-acre clearing is overwhelmed with weeds. I’m sure plenty of snakes have found a comfortable home here since it was last mowed. Back in the day , Nana used to brighten the manor’s gloomy aura with vibrant flowers in spring. Hyacinths, primroses, violas , and rhododendrons bloomed with color. During autumn, sunflowers would climb the house’s walls, their vivid yellows and oranges creating a striking contrast against the black siding . I