I walk through the halls of my childhood home, the wooden floor boards creaking under my zipped up combat boots. The halls were painted with purples and blues, like a galaxy. You could look at them and see imaginary faces looking back at you, pulling funny faces. The kitchen is blue with cobwebs going from one corner to another.
The house was empty and it was like you could smell the grief coming off of my body as I , wearily, step into the living room. The memories of past Christmases and birthdays flood my mind. The feeling of the paper ripping in my hands, seeing the smile on mum’s face as I look up and say thank you.
They were my favourite. Dusts floats off the curtains and cascades onto the floor as I open them. The view was beautiful, you could see the woods and the snow-capped mountains behind them.
The place used to be full of life and love, now it's full of dust, old boxes, an eerie amount of calm, and the memories of cinnamon cookies on a Christmas morning. There are many reasons I love this house, there are also many reasons I hate it. Like the ghost I used to see in my room, I would run to my mum and dad's room to sleep in their bed because I thought he was weird. I have a certain interest in the supernatural.
People have said my infatuation with ghosts is creepy or unnatural, when that is what I'm all about.
I walk up the stairs, the stone steps being hit with the force of my boots and creating an echo. My hands running along the bannister, collecting the dust.
The upstairs is still how it used to be when I was younger. The rooms are tidy and aesthetically pleasing. Stains on the walls from the times when I drew on them, the drawings on my bed frame that my ex drew for me. The removable floor board where I kept her stories.
I missed this place…
I walk around before finally going back downstairs to unpack.
I pick my speaker from the boxes and place it on the kitchen table, connecting my phone and scrolling through my playlist to find the Right song. I pick a song and dance to it as I unpacks.
I get through unpacking the kitchen pretty easily, setting all the cups and plates in the white cupboards. I move onto the living room, but get too tired to continue unpacking. I light the fire and pick up my favourite book, ‘her soul to take’ by Harley Laroux.
I immerse myself in the book, putting myself in Raelynn's shoes. I wish i had a demon to ‘care’ for me like Rae does. I wouldn't run or hide, or even be nervous. At least, that's what I tell myself.
I set the book to the side, yawning wide, and slowly close my eyes.
My dreams are full of dragons and demons, goblins and trolls, giants and dwarves, ghosts and skeletons.
A subtle knocking wakes me up. I pull myself off the sofa and stagger to the door, opening it slowly and peering out.
A woman in a blue dress and blonde Hair stand outside with a tray of food.
‘Hi. I'm Tracy, I'm your neighbor. I hope you're Settling in well?’
My brain can barely Register what the woman is saying, but I just assume they have good intentions.
‘I brought you some lasagne?’
‘Thanks’ my voice groggy and slightly lower than my usual upbeat tone, i takes the tray from the woman's hands with a gentle grip.
The woman's smile is one of those ones Where it doesn't look quite real, almost robotic. But I put it down to me being paranoid and closed the door with a smile.
That felt weird…
As I close the door behind the woman I can hear what sounds like scratching. Again, I pin it down to just being paranoid from the move. It could have just been a dog or a cat, or my neighbour's high heels against the wooden patio of the cabin.
I set the lasagne onto the kitchen table and head out the door to meet my friend, and new boss, Amara.
