Morticia realizes who the shadow was in her room.
I was terrified because I knew my father never could sing or play the paino... thats when I saw a shadow enter my room...*
I saw my father standing in the middle of the room but he did not speak.
I quickly got out of bed to see what was going on.
My dad seemed completely out of it. I wasn't sure how to react so I just stood infront of my bed until my father turned around and walked out of the room.
Full Of Beauty, Decorated in Blood.
It was still completely dark out so I decided to go for a hunt and search for my kitchen to get a bite.
I wondered throught the house until I smelled an aroma of wine and spagetti. I followed the smell until I found the kitchen, Which I remind you, It was overly huge.
I sat down a the long dinner table which seemed to hold about 8 people at a time.
My father sat across from me yet he still hadnt said a word.
"Umm...Good Evening, Father." I spoke a bit loud because it seemed as though a regular inside voice in the dinning room was a whisper.
He looked away and looked back at me and spoke "Hello, Dear. How do you like the house so far?"
What the fuck? Now he's acting as though nothing had happened!!! I thought.
"Oh, Its wonderfull...I just really miss home." I replied.
"I miss home too but its good to get away...you know London wasnt the best place for us after your mother passed." he said and looked down at his plate mat.
Then all of a sudden the doors that lead to the kitch opened and a very pale young women, looked about in her late 20's, walked into the dinning room with our dinner.
She set down my father's plate and then mine. And them poored us wine. She quickly left the room and I continued to speak to my father.
"Father, You knew how Mother felt about me leaving London! You know she said that there was absolutely no reason for me to leave London! So, Why Did you break your promise to my mother?!" I practically screamed my lungs out.
"First of, You do not ever speak to me like that! Do you understand me? Second, I never loved your mother so what does it matter to me? You are only seventeen! I am your father! I do whatever I please to do! As for you...You're just a kid!" He screamed back at me.
Why did he have to speak harsh words?
I got up and threw my plate at my father and ran to my room.
I felt as though I had ran forever...well of course I still didnt know where my room was at.
I reached my room finally.
I sat in my room humming a tune my mother used to play on the piano when she was stressed. A voice coming from the walls started to sing soft words, which I could not comprehend, along with the melody. I smiled and imagined my mother singing. I stayed like that for what I assume was hours. I hadn't wondered far from my room much since we arrived. The trees started to bid farewell to summer. They turned the color of rust and honey. The open window blew a steady breeze into the space, blowing my hair all about. It was easy to close my eyes and drift away with it.
When I awoke I found it hard to stay in the house, I needed to wonder. It was only a short walk to town when a bookshop caught my eye. It was small and paint was peeling off the sign that read 'Ms. Linden's Library'.
Inside, there was rows of dusty shelves, all filled with foreign titles. There was only one other person in the shop, an old man, probably in his sixties.
I went to the back where he couldn't stare at me and absorbed myself in the dusty spines.
A hardbound book caught me eye. I lifted it off the shelf and blew the dust off the front enough to read the name, 'Depouille De Bella Muerte'.
I gasped at the name and flipped the cover over eagerly. The man came up behind me, causing me to jump.
"I would not take that one if I were you, He said.
I looked behind my shoulder, and then turned to face him.
"That book, bad things happen." His face was twisted in an odd way, and his eyes bugged out slightly.
"The name of the book, Depouille De Bella Muerte, it is the name of my house."
"Depouille De Bella Muerte?" He said curiously to himself. "Really?"
"Yes," I replied awkwardly. "I thought it might tell me something, about the house."
The man took the book from me and walked over to the counter with it. I gave him some money, and he took it with an unsteady hand.
"Well, Miss, I warned you."
I left with one last curious glance to the checker, and headed back to the manor.
I was eager to open the book when I got home. I sat on the soft cushions of my bed and flipped open the pages. Fatigue swept over me and made the words blur together. I was not sure what happened after that-I presumed I'd fallen asleep.
Over the weeks I stared to become more aware, my mind wasnt allowing me to pretend nearly as much as I'd like. Things were starting to make much more sense. The eeriness of the house became more present, and I started to get scared when the dark came. One afternoon I broke down altogether. I had not cried since the funeral, and I had not let myself grip reality, but something was making me. That afternoon it hit me hard and I cried for hours until I felt something rub my shoulder. I stopped all movement and sound, I didn't dare turn around. I asked whatever it was to leave me alone over and over again in my head.
After that, all fantasy seemed to leave me, move to somewhere else. I wasnt exactly sure what to do with myself. I never slept at night, I kept my gaze fixed on the window; I was terrified of what was in this house. Something was not right about it, the way door seemed to open and close when no one but me was present. I didn't worry my father because I wasnt sure that he had grasped reality himself. Night after night I heard voices, a voice, singing. At first I thought it was my mother, but now I thought other wise. Ghosts were too far out of my capable range, but I didn't bother to contemplate anything else.
After a month, I became fed up with my fear and frantically threw open every door on my third floor. All the rooms were empty and dirty as mine was my first night. Twilight shown through the large windows and I turned on all the lights before slamming the doors. I screamed at Nothing to go away, I swear I heard laughing.
"Depouille De Bella Muerte, what is wrong with you?" I asked. I was adamant that I'd gone mad, but proceeded with my insanity anyway. I threw open another door, and I jumped when it swung so hard that it came back at me. I reached for the light but didn't find one; instead I saw stairs, a thin staircase, not even two feet wide. I looked up and saw nothing but another door. In my mind I figured it was nothing more than the attic. In my blind rage I marched up the stairs yelling obscenities at anything listening.
The door stuck a little at first but it pulled open soon enough. Dust hit me in all directions, and I coughed into my shoulder. Thin strands of twilight and moonlight leaked through cracks in the boarded windows. I didn't see any light to turn on, so I maneuvered myself around boxes and old furniture to one of the blocked windows. I pulled on one of the three boards blocking it. I threw it behind me; it fell on the floor creating another cloud of dust. More light swept past me, the glass on the window was broken, and wind blew my hair into my face as I reached for the next board. At one left, a hand pulled mine away.
"No stop," It told me.
*thanks for reading. Please review and tell me what you think!