Board Thread:Writer's Workshop/@comment-27008899-20160629140851

To tell you the truth, I don't know if I was ever alive. I would like to think I was. I have glimpses, dreams if you will, of a life once lived. It seems so long ago. I am still unsure if it was my own or someone else's. I remember this house, the one I now reside, and people. So many people. I can still see their faces, but names have washed from my memory like a faded old parchment. The faces of those I loved, known, and even despised. The fact that the memory of them can invoke these feelings tells me that I was alive. It is little to hold on to I know, as I could have created these faces of my own fruition.

I feel as though I was taken too soon, as though there is something I needed to do. Something, just at the peripherals of my own conception, like a light in the fog, a dim glow which only I can see. We all like to think we are here for a reason. Call it fate, destiny, or God's will. Regardless of the name I feel it every day, and every day I feel it fade more into the obscure fog. I believe it must have something to do with this house. Or should I say prison.

I call it a prison only in the abstract. I am able to come and go as I please, and I often do walk the solemn streets at night when no one can see, but I am always drawn back here. For reasons unknown to myself I need to be here. No, I want to be here. When I'm away for too long, I feel more lost. The world outside has changed so much, yet, I can't remember how it looked before it changed. I just know it has. The house is not really anything special. An old victorian home built in...well I am not sure where. I remember the name, Boston, but I am not sure if that is a place or a name. The hard oak floors of the two story building creak at night, regardless of if one walks them or not. The living room and master bedroom have bay windows. Often I stand in front of them watching the changing world just outside. Some people even stop and look back at me for a moment, the shock on their face is mildly entertaining when they do.

It is obvious to me that not everyone can see me. Those that do, tend to quickly run away. This was never more apparent one day when a family came to look at the house. I at the top of the stairs, as I normally do to not drive them away. It can get so lonely in this place between visitors. The family came in with another woman dressed very nice. I could not begin to describe her clothing as it was unlike anything I have ever seen. I remember the little girl though. A pink frilly dress enveloped her like a cloud gently engulfing the sun on warm summer day. Her delicate face hidden behind her blonde curls and a beautiful doll with long red hair. The moment she walked in her blues eyes stared up at me. Her tiny hand waved as a smile stretched across her face.

"Who are you waving to sweetie?" her mother asked taking her hand.

"The man at the top of the stairs." she said in a soft almost miniature voice as I returned her kind gesture in the like. She giggled slightly and hid back behind her doll.

Her mother looked to the top of the stair with an almost confused look, "Honey, no one is there." she replied as she pulled the child into the living room.

They stayed downstairs the entire time. I heard the mother say how the house gives her a bad vibe as they discussed other houses in the area. They did not stay long after and just before the mother walked out the door she took one last glance at the top of the stairs and paused. My eyes caught hers just as she did. For a moment I thought she could see me. I felt it. This was the last moment that I truly felt alive. The stairs creaked as I stood, and her gaze turned to the outside world, shutting the heavy wooden door behind her. The family never returned to the house. They were gone just as fast as they came and I sat down on the step once again, alone.

Several people would come and go over years but never stay long. One couple left after only two weeks. Granted, their ability to ignore me frustrated me to the point that I accidentally knocked over the dining room table while they were eating. Okay, maybe it was not so much an accident. I just hate being ignored. I tried talking to them, moving things around, even stepping heavy so they could hear me at night. They always came up with some explanation and pretend they were just seeing things. They did not even pack their things after the table. Several large men came in a few days later and took all of their belongings. I stood and watched from the top of the stairs as they quickly packed everything up. One passed right through me on his way to the master bedroom. For that second, I could swear I saw his thoughts. Crude as they were, mostly about hating his job, it was I was him briefly. It only took them a day to get everything. I watched them drive away from the upstairs bay window. The thought of being alone again consumed me, as a single tear dripped from my cheek onto the window pain before me. Little did I know my loneliness would soon come to an end.

On a warm spring day as I sat atop my perch on the stairs, the door creeped open. I could hear the birds chirping in delight of day as the door came to rest against the wall. In stepped a tall man wearing a strange hat that only had a rim on the front. I could see a big red letter "B" emblazoned on the front as he turned to look inside. He was followed by a woman with long dark hair. He long dress blew into the threshold as she crossed. In her arms she held a wrapped white blanket. She stood at the bottom if the stairs looking up, seemingly directly at me. A red lip stick covered grew from one side of her mouth as she gazed longingly up to the second floor with piercing blue eyes, as though she knew I was watching, waiting for me to acknowledge her existence. The white blanket that laid gently in her arms moved revealing the tiny arm of an infant child. A shadow loomed behind her as she moved toward the living room. In the door stepped two of the large men I had seen recently carrying a table.

"Where do you want it Mrs. Thorn?" The one front bellowed. With no small amount of glee at my new visitors I leaped to my feet and proceeded down the stairs. As I did a new feeling came over me. Not of happiness or joy, but of fear. The strong feeling stopped my decent on the last step as I became almost petrified from this feeling. My heart, not that I had one for all I know, stopped as I watch the woman's dark hair change from almost black, to sandy blonde color as the shadow moved towards me. I wanted to run and hide. I wanted to get as far away as I could from this entity. Whatever this is, it's bad. I could feel all through my body. But I couldn't move I stood helpless as the thing approached me. It stopped at the bottom of the step and appeared to be looking at me. The lack of eyes, or any other facial feature for that matter, prevented me from determining for sure. In a flash it zipped past with a maniacal laugh that child me to the bone. I turned to look in hopes of getting an idea of what I just saw, but it was gone. 