THE HAUNTING

THIS OLD PLACE IS ALIVE. I CAN FEEL IT IN MY BONES. NO, NOT THE BUILDING ITSELF. OF COURSE NOT A BUILDING. NOT A PILE OF BRICKS AND WOOD. THEY’RE COMPLAINING AGAIN. THEY CAN FEEL A DRAFT. THEY SWEAR THERE’S RATS IN THE WALLS, BITING HOLES AND LETTING THE WIND THROUGH. I WONDER IF THEY’RE JUST MAD WE HAD TO SETTLE FOR THIS AS OUR HONEYMOON, BUT I DIDN’T CAUSE THE TRAVEL BANS. THEY WANTED A TROPICAL ISLAND AND ADVENTURE. THIS WAS THE NEXT BEST CHOICE; A HOUSE, HIGH ON A HILL, FILLED WITH A MYSTICAL AIR. THE SURROUNDING FOREST HAS AMAZING HIKING, AND WE CAN FINALLY BE ALONE, FAR FROM THE BUSTLE OF THE CITY. THEY DIDN’T REFUND US FOR FLIGHTS. THIS WAS THE BEST WE COULD DO. AND THEY HATE IT. I WONDER IF THEY HATE ME. THEY SIT UP, RESTLESS, WANTING TO EXPLORE AND ADVENTURE. “I’LL GET A TORCH AND HOLY WATER, WE CAN STALK THESE HALLS LIKE REAL MONSTER HUNTERS!” MY JOKE DOESN’T LAND. THEY SCOWL. THEY TURN ON THEIR PHONE FLASHLIGHT. WE WALK DOWN THE HALL OUTSIDE OF OUR DOOR. WE MEASURE EVERY STEP. HER HAND IS ON MY SHOULDER, BEHIND ME. WE WALK INTO A ROOM, ADORNED WITH PORTRAITS. THE FACES ALL SHARE A COMMON VISAGE BUT NO TWO ARE ALIKE. WHO ARE THEY? WHERE ARE WE? MY QUESTIONS SIT ON THE TIP OF MY TONGUE AND BEFORE THEY CAN ROLL OFF OF IT, A VOICE ANSWERS. “MEET MY FAMILY. WE’VE BEEN HERE A LONG TIME”. I LOOKED AROUND AND SAW NO ONE. NO ONE INCLUDING MY PARTNER. THE EMPTY ROOM. I COULD FEEL IT BREATHING.

THE SUN SETS FINALLY. I CAN GET TO WORK. THE WORDS SPILL OFF MY PEN LIKE BLOOD FROM A DEEP WOUND. INSPIRATION! IT HAS COME LIKE A PLAGUE AFFLICTING ME. A KNOCK? WHO DARES TO DISRUPT ME? AT THIS HOUR? I FLING THE DOOR OPEN AND STAND ON THE PRECIPICE. NO ONE. A PRANK. LIKELY THE CHILDREN OF THE GUEST HOUSE, GETTING THE LAST OF THEIR ENERGY RESERVES OUT BEFORE REST. I RETURN TO MY DESK. THE FAMILIAR FEEL OF THE TYPEWRITER CLACKS BENEATH MY FINGERS. CLICK. CLICK. TEAR. IT REPEATS. CLICK, CLICK. TEAR. I FELT POSSESSED. THE WORDS FILLED THE PAGES AS THE SAND DRAINED FROM THE HOUR GLASS. I WAS UNSTOPPABLE! CLICK. CLICK. TEAR. AGAIN! I AM ANIMATED, I AM ENCHANTED BY THIS ROOM! AND THEN, ANOTHER KNOCK. ENRAGED BY THE DISTURBANCE, I OPENED THE DOOR IN A HURRY AND A PLAINTIVE LOOKING CHILD WAS STANDING THERE, HANGING IT’S HEAD WITH A SHAMEFUL EXPRESSION. “YES, WHAT IS IT?!” THE CHILD DID NOT BREAK HIS GAZE WITH THE FLOOR. “THEY’VE ASKED ME TO FETCH YOU. I AM SORRY TO BOTHER YOU.” “WHO? WHO HAS ASKED?” “THE FAMILY. THEY NEED TO MEET YOU.” “YOUR FAMILY?” “NO, THE CARETAKERS.” CONFUSED, AS I HAD MET THE OWNER WHEN I BEGAN MY STAY, AND WONDERING WHY SUCH A MEETING WAS NECESSARY AT THIS HOUR, I BEGAN TO GROW AGGRAVATED. “I AM NOT ENTERTAINING GUESTS AT THIS TIME. PLEASE RETURN TOMORROW. I HAVE LITTLE PATIENCE FOR THIS.” THE CHILD, TURNING ITS GAZE TO MEET MINE…IT’S LIFELESS, SAD GAZE…RESPONDED WITH “THAT’S QUITE OKAY. I KNOW YOU INTEND TO STAY A WHILE.” AND AS HIS SENTENCE FINISHED, HIS FACE CONTORTED AND VOICE CHANGED TO A DEEP BELLOW “AND WE ARE PATIENT. AND WE HAVE FOREVER.” NO SOONER HAD THE LAST WORD ESCAPED THE CHILD’S MOUTH WAS I GONE. I RAN THROUGH THE THRESHOLD OF THE DOOR TO MY ROOM, AND DOWN THE STAIRS, OUT THE FRONT ENTRANCE. AND I NEVER FINISHED MY NOVEL. AND I NEVER SPOKE OF THIS AGAIN.

FINALLY, A PLACE TO LAY MY HEAD. I WATCHED MY BROTHERS DIE IN THE FIELDS. I SEE THEM WHEN I SHUT MY EYES. BUT HERE, I’M SO FAR AWAY FROM IT ALL. MY MOTHER DIED BEFORE I LEFT, MY FATHER LIVES BUT IS DEAD JUST THE SAME. MY HIGH SCHOOL SWEETHEART, ONE HELL OF A GAL, SAID SHE COULD BARELY RECOGNIZE ME. WE SIPPED MALTS BY THE SWIMMING HOLE, BASKING IN THE SUN, AND IT ALMOST FELT LIKE OLD TIMES. BUT THE DAY ENDED. ALL DAYS DO. MINE WILL END SOON. THEN I’LL BE WITH MY BROTHERS. SHE CAME TO ME LAST NIGHT. IT WASN’T A DREAM; I WAS WIDE AWAKE. SHE WHISPERED IN A BREATHY GASP “I’VE COME FOR YOUR COMFORT. I LIVE TO SERVE”. I FELT HER FINGERS RUN THROUGH MY HAIR AND I SHOOK, SHUDDERED AS HER BREATH TRACED UP MY NECK. AND SHE WAS GONE. AND THE CANDLE BY MY BED EXTINGUISHED. I WAS RESTLESS. I NEEDED TO WALK. SO I WANDERED. THE GARDENS IN THE COURTYARD ALL SEEMED TO BEND THEIR HEADS AND KNEEL BEFORE ME, HERALDING MY HEROISM. THE MOON PIERCED THE SKY, AND STARS SHONE LIKE THE LANTERNS WE HUNG TO GUIDE OUR WAY ON THE BATTLEFIELD. I FOLLOWED THEM. I WALKED FOR WHAT FELT LIKE ENDLESS MILES. I FOUND A SMALL BENCH TOWARDS THE END OF THE GARDEN, SURROUNDED BY TREES SO TALL THEY SEEMED TO HAVE NO LIMIT. I WAS OVERCOME WITH THE ENORMITY OF MY SURROUNDINGS AND THE SMALLNESS OF MY OWN EXISTENCE. PERHAPS I’D STAY HERE FOR A WHILE.

MOTHER, FATHER, COME MEET OUR FRIENDS. THEY’VE COME TO FROLIC WITH US EVERY NIGHT. IT BREAKS UP THE QUIET HERE. OH MOTHER, OH FATHER, THEY’RE SINGING SO LOUD WE CAN BARELY SLEEP. WE TOLD THEM TO BE QUIET, BECAUSE WE KNOW THEY’RE DISTURBING YOUR SLUMBER TOO. OH FATHER, YOU MUST BE SO TIRED FROM WORKING ENDLESSLY. OUR FRIENDS SAY THEY’D BE HONORED TO HELP YOU RELAX. HERE IS SOME TEA THEY’VE MADE. THEY SAY IT CURES ALL ILLS. OH MOTHER, TAKE A RESPITE FROM LAUNDRY AND CHORES. COME SING SONGS WITH US. LET US TEACH YOU ONE OUR FRIENDS TAUGHT US. IT GOES LIKE THIS: “NOW I LAY ME DOWN TO SLEEP, THE LORD IS ABSENT HERE, HE SPEAKS NOT EVEN A PEEP. WHEN ON THIS NIGHT, YOU REST YOUR HEAD, ALLOW NOT THE MANOR TO FILL YOU WITH DREAD. WE ALL BELONG HERE, THIS IS OUR HOME, ALONG WITH EACH GUEST RECORDED IN THE TOME. PERHAPS THE SUN, WE WILL WATCH RISE, AS THE FIRE SPLITS THE SKIES. FREE YOUR SOUL FROM ITS CHAINS, YOUR SIN WILL WASH AWAY IN THE RAINS.” NOW MOTHER, FATHER, LISTEN CLOSE, WE MUST NOT DELAY AND BE RUDE TO OUR HOSTS. TAKE OUR HANDS, COME THROUGH THIS DOOR, AND IN THIS LIGHT, WE SHALL ALL BE REBORN.

ON A LONELY HILL, FAR OUT OF TOWN, AWAY FROM VIBRANCE AND CLOAKED IN SHADE. THIS IS THE PLACE. THIS IS PERFECT. I LAID EYES ON IT AND WORKERS HERE BY THE NEXT DAWN, ROOMS FILLED WITH GUESTS IN A YEAR. IT SITS PALATIAL LOOKING DOWN. THE GALAS THE GLORY OH THE TALES THEY SHALL TELL. THE LAUGHTER AND REVELRY ECHOES THE HALLS. I SIT IN MY ROOM, LANTERNS EXTINGUISHED, COUNTING. 1.2. THREE HUNDRED THOUSAND. THREE HUNDRED THOUSAND AND NINETY FOUR TO BE EXACT. THAT’S THE COUNT OF THE WHISPERS. THIS MANOR TALKS TO ME. IT SPEAKS IN RIDDLES, IN CRUEL JEST. I CAN’T DO IT. I CAN’T COMPLETE THE RITUAL. BUT THE MOCKERY, IT IS UNENDING. THE WALLS SWELL AND BELCH WITH BILE. THE GROUND A GAPING MAW. AND I SIT. I SIT IN MY ROOM. IT’S BEEN IN OUR BLOOD. THIS MANSE. THESE GROUNDS. NEW GUESTS COME AND THEY GO, BUT SOME NEVER LEAVE. THEY SERVE THE PURPOSE. THEY ARE THE LAMB OF THE ALTAR, DEO NOSTRO. OH ANCIENT ONE, SIRE, FOREFATHER. WE ARE BUT YOUR HUMBLE SERVANTS. WE BRING YOU THESE VESSELS AND KNEEL BEFORE YOUR SPLENDOR. WE SHALL CONSECRATE THIS GROUND TO YOU ONCE AGAIN, OUR KING. THE BLOOD IS LIFE, AND WE SHALL BE GRANTED LIFE IMMORTAL. EACH NEW HOMAGE BECOMES A PORTRAIT, EACH NEW PORTRAIT BECOMES OUR LEGEND. WE SHALL RECORD THEIR NAMES. WE SHALL REMEMBER THEM ALL. THEIR SACRIFICE WILL NOT BE IN VAIN. WE NOW CHANT TOGETHER: PATER SANCTE, QUI ES IN INFERNO, BENEDIC NOS IN VIRTUTE TUA. SANGUINEM HOSPITUM TIBI OFFERIMUS, UT FAMILIAM NOSTRAM IN PERPETUUM TUEARIS.