Dreams Of The Other Side

1

I look sadly around my almost empty bedroom, trying to memorize every detail. The light blue walls, the wooden parquet, the small bed tucked away next to the window. Everything is so familiar, and yet there is a sense of emptiness.

Cardboard boxes cover every available surface. My books, sketchpad and pens, all sealed away, ready to be transported to our new house.

There's a knock on my door and I see my mother open it in the mirror.

"Almost ready Emily?" she asks.

"Yeah, just finishing up." I say, throwing the last textbook in one of the boxes.

"Alright, bring these downstairs when you're done. I'll call your dad in to help you."

"Thanks mom." She walks out and I let out a sigh. I can tell she is worried. She always is after a nightmare night. I can hear my dad's echoing footsteps on the stairs and a moment later he comes into my room.

"Hey," he says in his familiar voice. It is only that voice that can calm me down after a particularly horrid dream. It is a voice I associate with safety. "Let me take that." He takes a cardboard box full of clothes from the floor and smiles. He doesn't ask me stupid questions like "How did you sleep last night?" or "Feeling okay?" because he knows there's no point.

As I get in our van, I take one last look at the place I grew up in. Maybe moving isn't such a bad thing, though I've never been able to stand change of any sort. Even in books, if a character leaves and is replaced, or if there's a great reveal where nothing will ever be the same again, I find myself wishing it was back to the way it was before. Yet I'm hoping that this will be different.

Soon rain starts pouring down from the gloomy clouds. It could be considered as an omen, but I love rain. It's my favorite kind of weather. The clouds dimming the light and the calming sound of drops hitting the asphalt. Somewhere along the way I doze off against the cold window of the van and wake up to find that my beloved rain has stopped and replacing it is a blinding stream of sunlight in my eyes.

Fields surround us, green and yellow and brown. Cows are grazing in some, sheep are staring wistfully at the road in others.

And right in the middle of it all is my new home. A huge house that could have once been grand, but was now faded and creepy. It was like something straight out of a ghost story, with its chipped paint, pointed roof and wooden veranda.

With a sigh, I open the car door and step into the late afternoon sunshine. Cupping a hand over my eyes I look around to where my parents are standing with our trunks and boxes.

"Emily, could you grab this and put it in the foyer? The keys are supposed to be under the mat." My dad hands me a trunk and I start lugging it to the front steps, which creak in protest when I set foot on them.

Sure enough the keys are where they're supposed to be. They feel cold and heavy in my hand, and there's more of them than I can count as I click one in the lock and turn. This house must be even bigger than I thought to need this many separate keys.

The door swings open, and I am attacked by a great big cloud of dust. I can tell immediately that the house has been abandoned of any visitors for ages. I pull the trunk inside, sneezing violently as even more dust rises from the carpet in the entryway.

"Well," my mother says walking in with a pile of boxes in her hands, "what do you think? The lady who sold it to us mentioned that it used to be owned by a very rich couple back in the day. Imagine it restored to its old glory! Gleaming floors, magnificent chandeliers..."

"Spiraling staircases that don't threaten to collapse any second..." I add. My mom just frowns at me, not seeing the imminent problem. I try to cheer up for her sake though. I know how much she wants this to work out. Nevertheless, this place gives me chills.

"Come on ladies," my dad says, delivering the final heap of trunks and suitcases. "Just drop these off, we can sort them out later. The weather is perfect for going outside. Let's go see what there is to do around here!"

As it turns out - absolutely nothing. We have been walking around for almost an hour now, unable to escape the countless fields and small farmhouses. There was truly nothing to do, unless milking goats was your ideal Saturday night.

I suddenly can't help feeling a strong sense of loneliness fall over me, leaving an almost physical weight on my shoulders. I've never really been all that social. Being home schooled left me with little opportunities to make friends, but at least I lived in the busy city. There was plenty of noise, people bustling around in the lit streets. Here everything feels empty. Ghost-like.