The House

Chapter 6: Beth Goes Home

When I wake up, a voice is singing gently from the stairs. I panic for a moment, not knowing what is singing, but then I realize it's only Beth. I just never heard her sing before.

The song is like a lullaby, and not like any other song you'd hear on the radio. She was singing;

I walked with you in forests green,

Ate fruits that you have never seen,

And followed you on diamond sands,

To wonderful and distant lands,

I sailed with you on crimson seas,

Drank strange wines, and stranger teas,

Beth is sitting cross legged on the landing, her hair braided over one shoulder. Jake must've gotten her a change of clothes, because she's wearing a big purple T shirt and jeans. She stops singing, blushing when I stop at the end of the staircase.

"Don't stop. That was nice."

An awkward cough, "thanks."

"What song was it?"

"Um, doesn't really have a name," she winds her fingers through her braid, "it's like an heirloom. My grandma made it up for my grandpa, before he went to fight in World War II."

"That's cool."

"Yeah, she taught it to my mom. Then she sang it around the house, and I kind of picked it up." Hesitatingly, Beth starts again.

You took me on your adventures,

And through it all I was so sure,

That even when we kissed goodbye,

You would come back every time,

I waited for such long years,

Without you to wipe my tears,

I went with you to castles,

To café's,

To balls,

Everywhere you wanted to roam,

But with all the places you had to go,

You could not

Come home.

The last note ends with a sad pause from Beth.

"I'm guessing that your grandpa didn't come back from war."

"No," she shrugs, "he was killed by a mine, along with his entire battalion. They traveled a lot, apparently, before it happened."

"Did your grandma ever remarry?"

"Nope, I don't think so. She was kind of broken, after he died. She couldn't get over it. Anyway, I wanted to ask you something. That wall over there," she points, "did it have all that algae growing on it before?"

I look to where she's pointing. An ugly, green fluffy algae spreads in cracks through a wall, growing mushrooms, dripping nasty water and sludge. It covers a huge section of the wall like the leftover slime of a giant slug. I can't believe I never saw it before. "I don't think so."

It looks odd, like a black slash on a perfectly painted canvas. The rest of the house, though extremely messy and cluttered, is in perfect shape. The paint isn't chipping anywhere, the tiles aren't scratched, even the water flows fine and the roof doesn't leak.

I step on the stairs, and yelp as suddenly the step cracks underneath me, my foot plunging through the wood. Beth stands immediately and rushes down, "is your ankle hurt?"