It was a place,
Filled with many memories.
Spent many joyful childhood years,
Walking or skipping down the halls.
Listening intently,
As relatives tell stories from the past.
Now, it has become,
Spacious and cold.
It’s as if no one,
Had lived in it at all.
What was once a warm, loving home,
Has reverted back to being a house.
My mother once said to me, “Enjoy coming home. Cause there might come a time when you can’t go home.” I didn’t understand what she meant. “Well,” she explained. “The house will be there, but the people inside the house won’t be there.” I still didn’t quite understand, but once I grew older, I started to.
I was an only child. So, I never had a sister or brother to play with. I hoped I would have a sibling or two one day, but my parents didn’t plan on having more children. I was disappointed, but at least I had my share of pets to care for until they all left me to cross the Rainbow Bridge. That was my first lesson about life and death. Nothing can live forever, I know, but I selfishly hoped it was possible.
When my Dad passed on, my mother was inconsolable for many months. She had lost the man she loved after 50 years of marriage. I tried to be there for her, but nothing I did would bring her out of her sorrow. At that moment, I knew that my mother was going to die from a broken heart. The place I have called home for as long as I could remember would be no more once she is gone.
I laid my mother to rest about a month later. I buried her next to my father so they could be together in the afterlife if such a thing existed. I returned to the house after the funeral, throwing myself on the couch as soon as I went through the door. Tears escaped as I buried my face into the seat cushions, trying to come to terms with the fact that my parents were no longer with me.
My mother’s words suddenly came to mind, and I finally understood her meaning. I have enjoyed coming home because the people I love are there. Now that they have passed on, my home is no longer a home. A sigh left my lips as I moved to sit up. I’d have to sell the house and maybe use some money from the sale to rent an apartment somewhere. I can no longer go home because I don’t have one. Not anymore.
I swear it was something straight out of the movies. I was sitting on the couch watching a basketball game when my sister suddenly shouted, literally jumping out of her seat. “What is it?” I asked. “There’s a mouse!” She cried, holding onto the arms of the single seat for dear life. “A mouse? What are you talking about? There’s no mouse!” I exclaimed, looking around for the rodent.
“I saw it!” My sister yelled. “I’m not crazy! I saw a fucking mouse!” I raised my hands in mock surrender as I searched for the mouse that magically entered the house. I looked under the couch, and just then, I saw something scurrying past. “Holy shit!” I screamed. “A mouse!” Running into the kitchen, I grabbed the broom, thinking I could use it to flush the creature out of its hiding place. The mouse appeared for a split second before disappearing underneath the bookshelf.
“There it goes!” My sister cried, pointing towards the direction the mouse went. I got up from my kneeling position and grabbed the broom, making my way to the bookshelf. I swept the broom under the shelf, and the mouse scurried out of it, scampering to the storage closet where all the dry goods were kept. “Damn!” I cursed under my breath. “Now, it might get to the cereal and flour if it had the chance.” My sister came up beside me and peered over my shoulder, hoping against hope that the mouse wouldn’t come back out.
“So what are we going to do?” She asked. I didn’t answer her right away as I didn’t have the answer. One option is to set traps and put them outside the storage closet and wherever the mouse might get to. The downside is there’s no way to guarantee the traps will work. It might be days or even months before we catch that little vermin. “Could we maybe get a cat?” My sister suggested. “Like ones that can catch mice?” I considered her suggestion but then dismissed it. A cat could work, but mice are quick and very smart. If watching “Mouse Hunt” has taught me anything, you do not want to wage a war against a mouse because you will inevitably lose.
It is said that where there is light, there is shadow. In my grandmother’s case, the shadows in her house existed without light. Whispering voices would haunt you day and night, but my grandmother was used to them. After all, she used to practice some all-powerful dark magic. She coexisted with the voices in the shadows while practicing her craft, living with them in the darkness. It was as if she could understand their sorrow and grief. I suppose it’s not necessarily bad, at least for her.
“The voices can be a salvation,” she often said when I visited her. “Like listening to music to help you feel better after a long day.” I didn’t quite understand her meaning at the time as I was still a young cat-eared, Pegasus-winged vampiress trying to grasp her telekinetic powers. When I finally did, my grandmother had died. Guess her human form has caught up to her. She had left me the house in her will, but I didn’t have the heart to move in. I managed to contact a realtor and sold it for a tidy sum.
A loud clanking sound snapped me from my thoughts. I looked for the source and saw my cat dropping her food bowl at my feet. A breathy chuckle escaped me as I shook my head. “Oh, Kyra, do you think of nothing but food?” The Grey Siberian meowed innocently in response while I headed to the kitchen to get a can of cat food.
I was in the middle of opening up the can with the can opener when I heard it. The whispering voices in the shadows. Just like the ones at Grandma’s. They revealed secrets that I thought were long buried. I’m not going to tell them because it doesn’t bear repeating. It makes me curious, however, how they found out about them cause Grandma was not the gossiping type. A sigh left my lips as I dumped the cat food into Kyra’s bowl. The shadowy voices were supposed to be a part of my grandmother’s past; it’s not supposed to magically become mine.
The house was quiet. Some would say too quiet. Though to her, it was the perfect moment of peace. A middle-aged woman with snow-white hair stood looking out the drop-down window, her hand absentmindedly stirring her Earl Grey tea with a silver teaspoon. Autumn’s red and orange leaves swirled and danced as the wind lifted them into the cloudy sky. Long, thin branches repeatedly tapped on the glass as if asking to come in from the chilly weather.
A sigh escaped the woman’s lips as she turned away from the window. Just then, a flash of lightning illuminated the living room before the roar of thunder rumbled within the darkening clouds. The window pane was soon dotted with raindrops as a bolt of light flashed behind the big elm tree in the spacious front yard. The woman’s eyes sparkled with amusement as the storm raged on.
Moments later, she turned away and made her way to the ornate fireplace. Picking up the fire poker, she stoked the embers and re-lit the fire. The aroma of apple wood caressed her nostrils, reminding her of the delicious apple pies her mother used to make. She stared at the soft glow of the orange flames, letting it chase away the freezing chill. The woman then walked over to her favourite cloth recliner chair, set down her teacup on the intricately carved side table and pulled a large, light purple cashmere blanket over herself. She snuggled into a comfortable position as a tiny, fawn-coloured kitten leaped onto her lap, gently pawing her cheek with its little paws.
“So you want to play, do you?” The woman asked, gently taking the kitten in her hands. The kitten mewed as her light blue eyes looked up at the woman, seemingly agreeing with her. Chuckling, the woman put the kitten down on the hardwood floor and took the blanket off her. “Alright, little one,” she said. “Let’s see if we can find something for you to play with.” At that, the woman searched for a toy for her beloved pet, with the latter diligently following behind her.
It’s an old house, built in 1934. It’s said that if you visit it, you will fall ill and die. There have been many that have become unfortunate victims. No one knew why this is happening but some said that there might be some restless spirits involved. Soon, the structure fell into disrepair and what was once a majestic house turned into something that the Addams family could live in.
One day, a large U-Haul arrived outside the house. A small Mazda sedan stopped just behind it. The driver cut the engine and stepped out of the car. “I guess we’re here,” he said as his wife got out of the passenger side. “Is this the house?” She asked, hoping against hope that they don’t have to live in a place like this. Her husband nodded and said, “Yeah, this is it, don’t you like it?” His wife made a face that pretty much said it all. The man sighed and said, “I know that this is not the kind of house that you wanted, but it’s the best that we can do given the rising housing market.” He then pulled his wife into his arms and put his chin on the top of her head.
“Besides,” he continued. “We could renovate it and make it look nicer. I’ll be getting a promotion at work remember? So we’ll have the money.” At her husband’s words, she silently cursed the universe for linking her to a man that can get her to do whatever he wants with that weak-in-the-knees smile of his. “You love it, shut up,” her mind said with an eyeroll and she couldn’t help but agree. “Ready to go check out our new home?” He asked excitedly. She smiled and nodded and let him take her by the hand and lead her toward the house.
A few days later, things went from normal to a million times worse. She found herself getting up in the middle of the night throwing up her stomach contents. At first, she thought that it must have been something that she ate, but for it to happen on a nightly basis was beyond ridiculous. Her husband, however, did not suffer from the same fate no matter how much she wished it. He walked around like a man possessed, thinking that there’s something out to get him.
The next morning, the police were called to the house when the neighbours complained of a foul smell coming from the house and they found the couple dead in their bedroom. The husband was lying on his side beside the bed, his lifeless eyes wide and crazed. The wife was in a kneeling position in the bathroom, slumped over the toilet with a bit of vomit was found in the corner of her mouth. “This has got to be the weirdest case I have ever come across,” one officer said as he went to join his partner. The lab techs were busy taking pictures of the scene and the officers wondered if the mysterious curse of the house will affect them.
When Darla told him about her diagnosis, he called the movers. She watched him leave the room and went into the living room. The ticking sound of the rotary phone she had gotten him all those years ago echoed through the second-story apartment that they shared, his deep voice drifted into her ears. A single tear rolled down her cheek as she thought about how lucky she was to have someone like him at her side.
Darla wiped away the tear when he came back into the bedroom, telling her that the movers will be here in the morning. “We’re going to move to a house outside of the city where we can live in relative comfort,” he said, wrapping his arms around her. “It’s also quite close to the hospital in case your illness worsens,” he whispered, holding her tight against him, afraid that if he let go, she will fade.
Later that night, while she sat in the living room watching her favourite nature documentary, he went about packing up everything that they owned into cardboard boxes. He then carefully taped up the boxes and put them near the door so that it would be easy for the movers to transport to the truck. “I’ll pack up the clothes and the rest of our things before the movers come around 1pm.” He said, putting the last of the boxes by the door. Darla gave him a loving smile and motioned for him to join her on the couch.
“Thank you,” She whispered once he had sat down beside her. “I know that this news is not easy to take in.” He then kissed the top of her head and told her that he would gladly move heaven and earth for her if that’s what she wanted. Darla then let out a contented sigh and snuggled into his side as they both turned their attention to the documentary playing on the television. While they watched, Darla made a vow to herself that she’s going to fight this sickness with everything that she’s got until she breathes her last breath.
Tiffany’s Writing Desk 