A Ghost In The Attic

Chapter 7: Mother

The quiet of the house was interrupted by the sound of the front door opening. I looked up from my desk, surprised to see my mother walking in, carrying a basket of food. Beside her stood my sister, a confident lawyer with an air of determination.

"Victor, dear, we couldn't resist dropping by," my mother exclaimed, her voice filled with warmth as she approached me.

I stood up, feeling a mixture of surprise and happiness at their unexpected visit. "Mom, Emily, it's great to see you both."

They enveloped me in a hug, a sense of familial comfort settling over me. My mother's embrace was reassuring, and my sister's hug, though brief, carried a pride that seemed to radiate from her.

"We heard about your new book, Victor," Emily said with a proud smile, her eyes gleaming. "Congratulations!"

I felt a rush of emotion at their words, the weight of their support lifting some of the anxieties that had been weighing me down. "Thank you. It's been a journey."

My mother placed the basket of food on the table, her gaze filled with a mixture of concern and affection. "We've been worried about you, dear. You've been spending so much time cooped up in this old house."

I glanced around at the history that surrounded us, the stories of the past intertwined with my own struggles and triumphs. "It's... complicated, Mom. But I'm working through things."

Emily's curiosity got the best of her, and she glanced around the room, her eyes narrowing as they fell on the stack of papers and the book on my desk. "Is that the new book?"

I nodded, a mixture of pride and vulnerability coursing through me. "Yeah, it's the one."

My mother leaned in to inspect the book, a smile tugging at the corners of her lips. "We're so proud of you, Victor. Writing has always been your passion."

Emily chimed in, her voice carrying a hint of playfulness. "And we've all been dying to know what you've been working on in this old house."

I chuckled, grateful for their lightheartedness in the midst of my inner turmoil. "It's been an interesting process, to say the least."

Just then, a voice echoed from the doorway. "Hey, what's all the commotion about?"

I turned to see my brother standing there, a sheepish grin on his face. His appearance surprised me, given his earlier reluctance to step inside the house.

"Alex," I said, my voice carrying a mixture of surprise and relief. "You came in."

He shrugged, a hint of bashfulness in his demeanor. "Yeah, well, Mom and Emily ganged up on me. Said I had to come in and show some support."

As my family gathered in the living room, a sense of connection settled over us. My mother's presence was a soothing balm, Emily's pride was a motivating force, and even Alex's reluctant appearance carried a sense of unity.

"We brought some food," my mother said, gesturing toward the basket she had brought. "Thought we could all have a little celebration."

As we shared a meal and stories of our lives, the house seemed to come alive with a newfound warmth. The stories of the past, the spirits that haunted its halls, and my own struggles and triumphs were all woven together, creating a tapestry of memories and emotions.

And as the afternoon turned into evening, I realized that the journey I had embarked on was not just about uncovering the history of the house or crafting a story—it was about finding connection, healing, and the ties that bound us together as a family. With my mother, sister, and brother by my side, I felt a renewed sense of purpose and the understanding that, no matter how complex the journey, we were never truly alone.