The
letterbox opened and a small, rolled up newspaper flittered through it onto the
red carpet below. It lay there undisturbed as the whistling of the jovial
deliverer faded away down the pavement. The house was consigned to its own
creaks and groans of the floorboards again, silently being trod by unknown
feet, the wind flowing freely through the gaps making doors creak on their
hinges. Drops of clear, unused water fell from unturned taps into vacant sinks
below, making a slow, deafening dripping sound. A low hum adding background
music to the unconventional silence was located at the fridge and the freezer
in the kitchen, everything else in it looked spotlessly clean and shiny.
Outside
birds fluttered around, occasionally chirping to each other about what life was
like in the sky, is that my worm or yours? How are your young getting along?
Nesting on the roof of the house. And on the road, a more humane form of
sentience was proceeding; as cars rumbled down the road, journeying to places
near and far, the drivers all intent on a purpose, focused on what they were
doing. Other people- cyclists, pedestrians went on their busy, if not more
environmental ways, all living their own lives, pressing on with what had to be
done.
All
around life stirred around the quiet house, shaking with the need to breathe,
to have life pumped into it, whilst it lay there stifled and dark, reclining in
the unusual, but not all that coincidental shade of the trees lined before it.
It
was quiet. Much too quiet. A feather could have been heard if dropped, let
alone a pin. The house was full of atmospheric tension- it hung in almost every
room she’d stepped in; as she’d breathed it out, it had hung in the air, like
water vapour does when it rises from the wet ground into the warm air. It
suffocated the house- consumed everything in its path, making even spiders and
other insects afraid of it, and scamper away into the deep dark depths of this
anguished dwelling.
If
you had stepped into that house at that moment you would have been silenced by
its own silence. The air would have stung you like a nettle, prickling its way
all down your spine to your toes, making you want to run. It would have run
down your throat making you feel dry, lifeless and numb. It would be
transferred to your veins and you’d tremble as you felt the nervous and
frightened feelings that had cascaded around here, flow through your body. Your
head will have been filled with the thoughts of fear, betrayal and hurt. The
silence will have become so loud it would have driven you mad before you
realised it, sending you running out, pelting at full speed, screaming so loud,
just to get your lungs to breathe in some clean air.
The
house was bad. It was bad to the very core- it held secrets even it
wasn’t supposed to know, for things had happened here which should never get
back to anyone. Lies which would pull people apart, rip friendships to shreds
and break a thousand hearts clung to the cushions on the sofa, the bricks on
the walls and the paint on the furniture likes perfume does to the skin. They
didn’t just fade away in time, they stuck there and stuck there, gnawing away
the spawn of all this corruption, eating away at them until they wanted, and
willed, anything to just suck it all away from them.
The
feeling was guilt; and it spread throughout the house like oil pollutes the
sea, polluting the house with its own evils and nasty surprises. Guilt
hung all over the house, it touched the newly delivered newspaper and flittered
in and out of the downstairs rooms, smelling everything in its path and
contaminating it.
It
gathered strongly in the kitchen, but mostly took a liking to the sofa in the
lounge, where it was most fresh. But no vacuum or object could fulfil its real
need. The source of guilt’s fuel was a brainfull of thoughts that would make
its obsession with the house, and the person it came from, grow even deeper.
It
trickled up the stairs, slid across the landing and under the door of the
bedroom, looking for its destination.
It
silently made its way over to the sleeping figure, who had not awoken yet from
the night into the day. A smile spread across its face as he could see the
troubled dreams she was having, as she tossed in her light sleep. Her face was
convoluted with dilemmas, and the hurt and shock of recent events, and it
breathed it all in from her aura, making it feel even stronger all over.
Curious
to know her dreams, it slid into her partially opened mouth, making her
splutter slightly as it did so, and made its way to the dream centre.
It
was chaos in there- order had been pushed out of the window, and everything she
had ever known had been thrown around in a crazed state of confusion and
bewilderment; so badly thrown that logic and sense may never be consoled. It
was overjoyed by this- it had gotten worse over night, and now she seemed
completely disarrayed by it all, and in utter shambles. Pleased and hungry, it
fed on every nervous, panicky thought from her, filling guilt up and up inside her
head as it did so.
You
can’t escape me, guilt thought. You brought this on yourself, and instigated the
whole thing. The only way you can make me go away is by confronting me and the
lies that possess this house.
I
will continue to eat away at you, get to you when you least expect me to,
feeding off your every thought, turning you into a paranoid state of terrifying
turmoil.
Her
eardrums began to hum at the sound of it.
I
am not leaving you alone, it insisted to her. I will devour every last bit of you… as the lies
grow, so the guilt will grow.
And
lies… lies can only be defeated by the truth; the one thing I know, you’re so
very, very afraid of.
Are
you ready for the truth yet?
Are
you?
Are
you?
Are
you?
Elisabeth
woke up.