Daddy, Why Are You Biting Me?

PART I

He spoke with sincerity. What he was saying was nothing short of insanity. Or, at least, that's what I thought at first. But his words were delivered so seriously and severe, and his eyes read stern with a tinge of sadness or maybe pity. I was starting to feel an overwhelming dread fall over my body. Either what this old man was saying is true, or my search for answers had led me to a dead end. Neither outcome was a positive one. At that moment, I found myself sitting in front of an insane, possibly senile, old man who was either struggling with his grasp on reality. Or – how I hoped it not be true – I found myself sitting in front of an old man who once lived in the house that my family and I now live in, and is telling me that our home is infested with an evil, otherworldly being once conjured up by a voodoo priestess from the pits of Hell.

We had been living in the home for about two weeks. It was a pretty spontaneous move actually. We had only played with the idea of leaving the city for a couple of months now. When I had first mentioned it to Victor, my husband, it was really only a passing thought that I almost unconsciously blurted out. We were on the couch watching television together one evening, and I was clicking through a few social media sites. Someone had posted a big, beautiful home they either just bought or wanted to buy to their Instagram. It was so different from the small, clinical apartment we had been in for the past six or seven years. We had moved in right before our son, Max, was born. For years we filled the tiny, two-bedroom, downtown apartment with lots of love and memories. But as Max started to age, my visions of our family seemed to shift. I saw the image of the big, beautiful home posted on Instagram, and I could see Max running about the yard playing and laughing.

Before I knew it, after that night on the couch and the blurted comment, we were looking for homes miles away from our downtown two-bedroom. I supposed Victor was also feeling the tug from that vision of Max playing in a yard – in front of a big, beautiful home.

The house seemed too good to be true. Just a few weeks into our search, our real estate agent sent us photos and an address in an email and asked if we were interested. We confirmed a date and planned a drive to see it in person. Just Victor and I in the car, we drove to the house for the first time in late spring. The highway dipped down a bit, and then off to the right we could see an unpaved road of gravel and dirt cut through the wooded area that ran alongside the highway. We turned onto the road, and after just a moment it seemed like all the trees fell away. There it was. The house stood in the sun, its white and brown painted exterior almost glowing.

"I told you if we just add a couple more miles to our commute we could get way more bang for our buck. Look at this!" I remember shouting as we jumped out of the car. I gestured to the massive, glowing structure in front of us.

Our real estate agent followed down the unpaved road just moments later, accompanied by a tall, pale man we had never seen before. "Hi guys," our agent said walking from his car. He continued, shaking our hands, "Good to see you. This is Mr. Robichaux. He is the owner of the property and has asked to accompany me." Turning to the man he said, "This is Victor and Ted, the young men interested in the house."

It was definitely strange, but I never questioned Mr. Robichaux's presence that day or any day after. In fact, I don't believe he said one word during our entire tour of the house. Maybe a few nods or gestures here and there. I guess I just forgot about him after a while.

Even with the weird, tall and silent owner, we were sure the house was for us. Our commute to the city was now about an hour long, which was thirty minutes longer than the commute from the suburbs we originally looked at. But we both had agreed that the price, and the space for the price, was just too good to pass up.

The papers were signed. The keys were handed off. And we were packed and ready to go. Hearing Max shout with such joy, "That's our home?!" as we pulled up to the house made it all worth it. He jumped out of the car and started running around the yard laughing and screaming with excitement. It was exactly like I had hoped for. I felt tears well up a bit. I looked over at Victor, and saw his eyes do the same. Suddenly I feel a tug at my leg. Max wrapped himself around my leg, giving me a tight hug, and asking, "Are you happy too?"