I felt the ground shift beneath me a little. I could not be bothered. My head was throbbing, and my feet felt like they had cannonballs tied to them. There was rustling around me, there was movement. But this was expected, of course. I had entered this house after a decade. A decade of convincing myself that there was nothing left for me over here. And I was right, there isn’t. The house was mouldy, dusty, creaky and weary. Yes, weary, more than anything else. The rooms were weary of containing the sadness, and the occasional wisps of happiness which had blown in through the windows. The corridors were weary of containing the echoes of the poorly muffled screaming and shouting. The stairs were weary or carrying the dead weight of the thump of angry, vindictive and tired footsteps. They were creaking with the weight of the emotions which the members of this household had once so generously expressed.
I had been one of them. I still am, except for the fact that none of the others are. I opened my eyes and looked around. There were memories strewn around, carelessly, thoughtlessly, all over the place. And this is exactly what made my head hurt so. And wasn’t just me. People had been interested in this house. Families had wanted this piece of architectural brilliance, but they could not stand the unkempt memories either. Eager buyers had stepped into the house, falling over one another in their haste to buy this place, priced very carelessly by me. They had stepped in as eager, expectant clients. They had stepped out with the burden of the memories which this house ladles on to everyone. There was that rustle again. That feeling you get when you know that you are not alone. It almost felt like the memories has slowly crawled across the dusty floors towards each other, and had formed shapes, bodies, forms and identities of their own. It made me uncomfortable, it made me want to constantly look back and reassure myself that I was not being scrutinized by anyone.
Some buyers had refused to buy this house because they got the feeling that it was haunted. Haunted by unhappy ghosts and miserable creatures. I did not find it as absurd as I should have. I often got the same feeling myself. In fact, I had always felt that way about this house. Even when it was inhabited by these ghosts in flesh and blood forms. A very depressed husband, a very dissatisfied mother, a brother who was sure of the fact that he should not have been born and a sister who stumbled through most of her life opposing everything, fighting against everyone, in a desperate attempt to feel something, anything. But of course, I am back to feeling nothing at all, apart from the dull, constant headache, and the constant uneasiness of being watched, judged. I hastily switched on more lights. The chandelier (or what was left of it), the table lamps, the bulbs along the corridors...all of them lit up to illuminate the house, but they did nothing to dispel the eeriness. The house felt less like a home I was returning to, and more like a living breathing creature which had systematically drowned each of its members in their own miseries, and had been waiting to finish me off. There was that creak again. That rustle, that cool wind which brushed against my face, like fingers trying to grab my whole face in order to suffocate me.
I was tired. Yes, I had been in love with this house at one point. But that point looked so diminutive now. Slowly and methodically, I walked further into the house, shutting off the lights behind me as I did so. I needed to do this, I needed to confront the creatures, the formless, sleepless creatures which were just as miserable as I was. One after the other, I went to every room, every corridor, every balcony, and every staircase. This house, it was just as miserable as I was. It was not the antagonist, after all. The layers of dust all over it were bringing it down. The cobwebs were getting tighter. The house had expected laughter, dancing, music, love, peace, a family. It had received nothing. And I was the only family left now, and I needed to put it to rest. The house was tense, it was tired. The demons were not in it. They needed to be exorcised from within my head.
This is the first guest post on my blog and I am so happy to host glad2beawoman as my first guest writer. Glad2bawoman is an online media company with more than 75000 community members. The articles on the site encompass numerous women-centric topics such as Lifestyle, Empowerment, Health, Leisure and Relationships.