The Art of Living (Or To Die Trying) (boyxboy)

Chapter 17, Recalled recollection

I literally wrote this one overnight, so I'll most likely go back and re-write it later. And I'm sorry btw, but this turned into another looooong chapter :P

Dedicating this one to saintc, for the lovely comments :D Really made my day and inspired me to keep going :]

To your right I've attatched a floorplan of the house, right click and choose "view image" or whatever it says, and you'll get a bigger picture.

        On a sidenote, this is what, like the third time I attach a song by Radical Face? This story is turning into a tribute xD Seriously though, especially the album Ghosts just has this haunting, sad atmosphere, which has greatly influenced me when writing this story. Plus, the incomprehensible lyrics are amazing. :] I chose this song in particular because of said lyrics, as well as it just captures the atmosphere of the house, I guess. And, yeah, it's a great song anyway.

        Riiiight! Enough ranting! Carry on reading, lovelies :]

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The rain has mostly stopped during our car ride here, though the dark clouds remain across the sky, so even though it's still early in the day the inside of the house is rather dark. The air within the house is cold, colder than outside even, and the atmosphere is sullen and still, nearly sorrowful, yet at the same time it almost tingles with anticipation. It's as if the house itself is holding its breath, like it had given up on living, abandoned and alone since no one has been keeping it company for years—but now... Now it's waking up, sensing presences within it once again, hoping for life to return and brighten up the gloomy stillness that has enveloped the entire house and surrounding land.

       The small foyer we come into is octagonal, and there's a window at the left hand side which – along with the open front door – lets in enough light for even Vivian to see clearly. Without a word I cross the room in a few strides, opening the closed set of doors opposite of the front doors and enter the grand hall within. The wall on my left has two doors, both of which are open, and both of which lead to two parlors. Both parlors have an open fireplace, as well as a door leading out to the veranda spanning the length of the side of the house. This much I know even without looking in that direction, and I feel the edges of my mouth curve into the hint of a smile upon realizing it.

       I'm home.

       My home. My home which I remember.

       Straight across the hall, opposite of the doors leading to the foyer, is an arched vault leading into a large dining room with octagonal walls mirroring the foyer. There are three windows, overlooking the garden out back, as well as another large fireplace. A door on the left leads to one of the twin parlors, and a door on the right leads to the kitchen.

       I just know this, all of it, even from where I currently stand in the entrance hall, eyes glued on the huge crystal chandelier that hangs from the ceiling several floors above me. Ah, yes, even though the light in here is too dim for a human eye to be able to make any details out – since the hall has no windows, located in the very middle of the house as it is – I can clearly make out the balcony up above, on the second floor, but even if I couldn't I would still just know that it is there.

       Somewhere behind me I hear Daz chuckle softly as I breathe the stale, dusty air in, taking in the strangely familiar feeling of knowing something without having any actual memories of it.

       -”He remembers,” Daz murmurs, and the smile is evident in his voice.

       -”Remembers what?” Vivian nearly whispers, as if he's afraid that his voice might ruin the moment, or shatter whatever trance I seem to be in.