Are You Here?

Part 1

The house was silent. Enclosed by the natural wall looming fir trees and ominous mountains it stands protected, and yet I felt as though I was the one who needed protecting. The peacefulness of the area was not a comfort.in fact, it was quite unsettling. The atmosphere had changed since the last time I had came.it use to be a joyful place. A place of recreation and relaxation. Now it seems cold and empty. Like the house too is mourning. As I drive up the stony pathway, I can see the intricate detail on each cold, stone brick. A proud brass doorknocker that was shaped to look like a lion's head hung dully on the peeling, green door. The windowpanes were practically opaque with grime. Tall creepers clawed their way up the walls and fingered at the cracks in the walls. Tears welled in my eyes. The once beautiful house was now a sorry sight. Left for years in isolation, with nobody occupying it. And now to have me staying here, alone and grieving. Nothing about the house was appealing. Nothing apart from the fact that it was the only place that had traces of my Walter in it.

After he died, there was a mad rush of sorting and tidying. His memory snatched and shared unequally between various family members. I didn't even get to keep the house we once lived in. All I was left was Pine Manor in the mountains, where we use to spend our summers. I parked my car at the front of the house and made my way up to the front door. My key fidgeted inside the rusty lock for a while but eventually the door opened with a familiar clonk. A sudden gust of wind blew through the house, unsettling a blanket of dust and raising it into a thick cloud. I cover my face with my sleeve and cough madly into my elbow. When the dust had cleared, I look around the hallway. The dark green walls are complimented by the dark wood floors and furniture. Boots lay discarded and muddy next to the doorway. The chandelier has been draped in silky cobwebs and the candle snubs long burned out. The golden mirror has been coated in a thin layer of dust. I wipe my hand across it to reveal my tear-stained face looking back at me. I looked a mess. I turn to face the opening that leads into the living room. The velvety sofas face a large fireplace, surrounded by bookshelves. Each book Walter and I had hand-picked in order to make this house ours. I shall have to sit in front of the fire with a book tonight.

I follow the house around through dark corridors and even darker rooms. The kitchen had mould eating at the corners of the windows and cabinets and spelt like damp cloth. The cupboards were derived of food except for some pots of jams and honey. I will find some food tomorrow. Joining to the kitchen was our large dining room. The size of the room was unnecessary as we never really used it. The long table only needed two chairs for me and Walter. Our company was always enough. I stroked the back of his chair tenderly as I walked past. At the far end of the room there was a grand piano. Its yellowing keys were inviting and familiar. Walter would sit there for hours, creating melodies and trying to teach my helpless fingers how to play. I was hopeless at any instrument; I must have frustrated Walter with my lack of co-ordination. I softly caress the smooth ivory with my fingertips. The material is soaked with memories. Suddenly my hand slips and catches one of the keys. The note is deafening in the eerie silence of the house and causes my ears to ring relentlessly. My heart is pumping wildly, and it takes a while for my breath to slow. I sigh heavily and step away from the piano. Without turning back to the room, I run out and shut the door tightly behind me. The action seemed childish but necessary. Cold sweat dripped down the back of my neck and my ears continued to ring. I stayed away from the dining room for the rest of the day.