In Shade

Unwelcome Intruding

The sun rose upon a world frosted with light snow the next morning. It shown on crystalline splendor, dancing over glazed leaves and branches. It almost looked like a scene from a fairy tale. Maybe an ice queen's kingdom, or a winter wonderland only inhabited by strange beasts. Drew thought about this while he stood in the kitchen drinking a cup of coffee. What kind of creatures might roam out there? He pondered this for a few more minutes while he drank, though it did seem foolish. He was twenty three years old, he had no reason to be thinking about fairy tales and mythical beings. Yet here he was. Standing in the kitchen and doing exactly that.

He sat the white, coffee-stained mug down on the granite countertop and heaved a deep sigh. Now, in the light of day, the events of the night didn't seem as bad. It had probably just been the wind. Yeah, it had just been the wind making the house settle down. And the sigh had probably just been the heater kicking on or something like that. Drew internally scolded himself for scaring himself so bad. For working himself into a fright. There wasn't anything in this house to be scared of.

His dark brown eyes flicked up from the countertop and out the window again. The sun had peeked from behind a cloud and lit up the grounds with more hushed and sparkling light. A slight smile crept over his face. It really did look magical out there. It was the type of scene that made him think about getting his camera to photograph it. Maybe take some pictures of his house, too. The interior design, the stained glass window at the top level of the stairway. The window that always gave the feeling of eyes on his back. Who knows what would show up in the pictures.

Drew tried to shake the thoughts away. Nothing would show up besides his home, and the world outdoors. No ghosts, no wraiths, no otherworldly beings. Only the things he intended to see. He continued to study the world outside, taking an occasional sip from his cup of coffee. His thoughts were interrupted by a thud, a tumbling, and a snap. It sounded like it had come from the main stairway. Drew whipped around with a gasp. He stared at the kitchen doorway. The hairs on his arms rose. There the foyer sat empty. Surely it was empty. The stairway was just out of his line of sight.

Drew walked cautiously through the kitchen. His socked feet made no sound on the old, tiled floor. He moved begrudgingly. Horror hung suspended in his chest. He was nearly to the doorframe now. Only a few feet. His breath hitched in his throat as he peered around the doorway, wide eyes locked unwillingly in the stairway's direction.

Beautiful, colored light poured in through the stained glass window. It fell easily upon the ornate rug that lay on the landing, dripped down the stairs in rays like watercolor paint. It danced in Drew's wide, horrified eyes. But there was nothing that could have fallen down the stairs. Nothing, or no one, lying at the foot of them. He was startled at his own thought. Why would there be someone lying at the bottom of the stairs? Who would have fallen?

Drew thought for a moment but his answer was soon delivered to him by an unseen hand. The daughter. The daughter. His stomach turned in cold dread. The girl that had fallen down the stairs. Who had met her untimely death. Drew took a step back, the splendid colors of the stained glass laying over the stairs and hanging in the air. Playing out like a personal rainbow. He felt as if he couldn't blink. His eyes were glued open, looking far past the colors. His mind was emptied in something that was a mix of fear and disgust. One thought ran on loop.

He had heard her death.

He had heard her die.

Drew shook his head and then said out loud, "No, that's impossible. She's dead. She's been dead for years."

The house was silent around him, save for the tick of a clock on the wall. Drew turned away from the stairs and looked all around the foyer. Nothing was out of place. Nothing wasn't right. It was all perfect. Just as perfect as the day he had bought it. He did another slow rotation, observing everything in his home. As he turned his back to the stairs he felt the piercing of cold eyes against his shoulder blades. Chills ran up his neck. Drew faced the stairs again. The feeling of being watched refused to diffuse. He stared up at the stained glass. Though he couldn't see anything he could feel something staring back with twice the intensity he could muster. It made him bristle and shiver, boiling defiance mixing with his frigid fear. Ultimately, his fear won.