The Medium of Memory | ONC2020

5. The House

Charlotte, in a calm and measured way, asked me what the women looked like and what they said, how I felt, what I'd been doing just before it happened. She wrote it all down in a small notebook she carried in her leather satchel. I sat meekly, feeling a bit like a patient in the presence of a shrewd and skeptical doctor.

She then made her determination. "I'm quite certain you saw the mother and daughter who lived here. Furthermore, I suspect you read the memories of this big tree." She patted its trunk. "After all, you were leaning against it at the time of your vision."

Trees with memories? I asked if such a thing was possible. She admitted she didn't know, but it was the most logical explanation—I had witnessed something the tree had witnessed. If people and non-living objects could hold memories, why not trees? There were memories all around us and I was awakening them.

I did not, in fact, find this reassuring.

Charlotte, however, was pleased with this new development, and certain that our investigation of the house would be fruitful.

We sat on a blanket and ate a light picnic lunch. I began to feel better, though I was still unnerved by how absolutely real the women had seemed.

I suggested trying to read the tree again, but Charlotte warned me against it, saying I might "drain my energy" and that I should "save it for the house."

"What precisely will we do in there?" I asked as Charlotte polished off the last of her cucumber sandwich.

"Ordinarily, my firm identifies and isolates the object causing a haunting. We remove it and store it appropriately, sometimes for study," she explained. "I can do that job on my own.  It's just a matter of using some esoteric investigative work to track down the source object."

I couldn't imagine what "esoteric investigative work" entailed, but I didn't have time to ask.

She added, "Personally, I want much more. There is great potential here. I want to find out as much as we can about what happened in this place... and that's where your special gift comes in.

"Instead of looking only for the source of the haunting--which I hope we'll be able to do quite easily--you'll use your obviously growing skills to evoke more memories from the house. We'll be pioneers in a new kind of science, and learn so much more than I ever hoped!" Her eyes were wide with enthusiasm.

It was clear that she had lofty goals and confidence in my abilities to help achieve them. For me, this was my chance, as Mrs. B had urged, to explore my new "gift" and, I hoped, to harness it.

After we'd packed up the remains of our lunch, we approached that great, dark behemoth of a house.

Charlotte removed a key from her satchel and inserted it into the lock. The front door creaked open before us, revealing a dim interior.

Immediately a cacophony assaulted me—reminding me of the buzz of myriad insects. Faint voices all talking at once, footsteps, distant piano music, laughter and so many other sounds and smells I couldn't identify. I unconsciously took a step back.

Charlotte noticed my hesitation. "Are you all right?" she asked. I nodded, but didn't move.

Suddenly, I did not want to enter the house. But neither did I want to disappoint Charlotte. "I sense something," I whispered.

"What?"

It was a heady mixture. "Memories?" I questioned aloud, and as I said it, I knew it was true. "Just an amorphous blend. Nothing clear."

She waited silently while I regained my composure. After the initial shock, the memory-buzz subsided into the background at the edges of my mind. Then we stepped into the small, carpeted entry hall.