The Walls Of The House

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Status: In Progress  |  Genre: Other  |  House: Booksie Classic
A story I've been thinking over for the last couple hours that I decided to get down somewhere. (Currently incomplete.I'm writing in a class during some free time. i will continue later.)

Submitted: May 15, 2017

A A A | A A A

Submitted: May 15, 2017



Nora approached the old dirt pathway that led to the old house. She had heard much about the building, many claimed that it was haunted and dilapitated and that the man who once owned the house was mad and had subjected himself to seclusion for the sake of his children. The road was long and dark, she had asked permission to park her car at the bar up the road until morning so as to not give any semblance of her arrival to who or whatever still dwelled in the allegedly empty home.

After what felt like forever, in the dim light projected from her cell phone's screen she could see a wrought iron gate which swung lazily in the cool autumn night's breeze. She slipped inside its opening and found her feet touching pavement. The rest of the road ahead of her was paved to be a driveway, winding its way through thin, twisted trees until it stopped at a little garage. she scanned the yard around her, it was dotted with bushes and trees, some fenced in to mark them, the facade of the house appeared almost victorian in style, three floors high with a glass structure on the roof. the front walkway was lined with rose bushes and poppy flowers.

It was odd, the place seemed so well taken care of and lived-in. No broken windows or rotting boards outside from what she could tell. With curiosity she climed the front steps to the door and raised one of the steel knockers, by the time she caught herself it was too late and a loud bang rang through the other side of the door. Her heart skipped a beat, but before she could withdraw from the steps a low male voice called out to her

"Why don't you come in? You've already come this far, may as well finish the journey."

The door creaked open slighty, inviting her to push it the rest of the way in. With apprehension she grapsed the handle and creeped inside.

Once inside whe was met with another unexpected sight, hardwood floors, freshly polished a mirror hanging above a small table where a set of hooks lined the walls and a coatrack behind the door.

"Hello?" Nora called out, before taking a few steps in and closing the door behind her.

As the door shut, the lights in the room sluggishly crawled to a brighter setting and she could see her own face reflected in the mirror. Her short curly black hair, wire frame glasses and green eyes were all she could see until the silhouette of a figure peeked out of a room behind her. She spun on her heel to face it, half expecting it to slither away into darkness, but instead was met by a man approaching her.

He held a black cane in one had, his palm resting on a large ball of what appeared to be polished amethyst. His hair was dark brown and greying, slicked back and tied into a braid, His brown eyes were intense, but joyful and affixed to his tan face. He was in his mid 40s but what she could tell, thin but well built, his age did not undo the architecture of his youth.

When he reached her, he bowed his head and extended his hand, "Hello miss, and welcome to my house, my home, my hall of old. To what name do I refer the image of porcelain beauty before me?"

Nora could feel her face flushing as she reached for his hand, "My Name is Nora, Nora Shepherd. I apologize for tresspassing."

"My name is Lawrence Vale and do not apologize. Tresspasser or not, company is always appreciated. To what do I owe the pleasure of your visit this evening?"

Nora shrugged, embarrassed by the question he had posed. "I guess I'm here on a dare."

"Oh, a dare you say? Let me guess, you have a group of friends that went drinking up the road at the bar. They've heard rumors that my house is some old haunted rattrap and you were the lone skeptic who was dared to investigate due to your lack of faith in anything you can't see for yourself?" Lawrence said, narrowing his eyes as they chased Nora's avoidant gaze.

"How could you have guessed that so well? I've barely said anything to you." She was intrigued.

"Two things, deary. the first being that even if I had just guessed you just admitted it to me, the second being I own that bar and the barkeep, Michael happens to work for me and told about a conversation he'd overheard between some kids." WIth that he winked and tapped his cane to his head before beckoning her to another room down the hall.

They walked in silence for about five minutes, Nora was taking in the view of the place. Walls decorated with swords, bows, bookcases, instruments, maps and art pieces. Everything was organized and either shelved or hung. They eventually turned into what she assumed was the kitchen.

He motioned to a stool stationed at an island in the middle of the kitchen. As Nora sat he flicked a rock glass off of a spinning rack on the counter and turned to her,

"Water, wine, brandy, coffee, tea, juice, soda? Anything at all?" He asked as he filled his glass with a deep red liquid from a tinted bottle in the fridge.

"Tea please. Preferably hot." She replied

"Anything you'd prefer?"

"No, I'll let you decide." Nora watched the old man dart nimbly with his cane from one side of the kitchen to the other as though he was in full working order.

He put a small steel kettle on the stove and grabbed a small tea cup with a black and white Mona Lisa replication painted on it and placed it before her. He strode over to a cupboard to retrieve a small glass jar with what appeared to be assorted flowers inside and dropped a couple spoonfuls into a chamber suspended in the center of a glass teapot,

"What is that?" Nora asked.

"This is a teapot I bought may years ago when I was your age. The center chamber is a French Press." he said with a smirk.

"I know what that is, I meant the tea." she laughed

With a raised eyebrow and a chuckle he shrugged, "It's a blend of my own. Rose hips, Lavender, and chamomile with white tea. I grow them upstairs in the greenhouse."

"You have an indoor greenhouse?" she asked, mystified.

"Oh Gods, no. I have one on the roof."

Nora's eyes widened as she recalled the strange structure she saw on the roof outside. "How did you get that up there?"

"I had it built up there of course. What do you think?"

Nora quietly sipped her tea before speaking, "That's a very interesting idea, but why would you do that?"

"It seemed like a cool idea at the time, I don't regret it at all."

They sat at the small counter in the center of the kitchen for what felt like forever, Nora's gaze drifeted across the walls and she found many odd things peppered throughout the house thus far. From where she sat she could see into the nearby dining room there were so many pictures on the walls, young men and women in costumes, stages with bright lights A young curly-haired man in front of a car, many kissing couples, mothers holding children for the first time.

Lawrence rubbed his eyes and strolled into the dining area, he settled in front of a picture that Nora couldn't see. He turned and beckoned for her to join him. She stood and walked into the room with him, whe she arrived at his sidce he pointed to the picture in question, It was a picture of figures silhoutted around a campfire, for some of them their faces were highlighted by flames. A few fo the boys around the fire were holding guitars and two of the girls had their heads thrown back with mouthes agape. The frame had a gold plate in the front with an inscription that read "Love Your Friends, Die Laughing."

Nora could feel something in the air suddenly as Lawrence traced the edges of the frame with his fingertips.

"My brother took this picture in 2017. We were here on this land camping and talking about plans for this very house. The three boys with guitars are myself, my friend Avery and my other friend James who at the time was learning how to play. We were playing some weird little thing we threw together. It was a hell of a night."


© Copyright 2018 Angelo Sabia. All rights reserved.

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