The Empty House

1st place "Invalid Item"  2009
3rd place "Invalid Item"  2009

1912 words

The Empty House

I cut the dead limb away from the roof and it crashed to the ground, sending up a plume of debris. That should stop the banging that was keeping the family awake, I thought, but it won’t do a thing for the constant howling of the wind through the broken window frames. The old house was full of strange sounds. I could hear an old wooden gate complaining from the backyard, as the gusts tried to budge its rusty hinges. It sounded like distant voices.

“The house has been abandoned for decades, and there’s a lot of cleanup to do,” I explained to Sharon. “I think you should stay and help me.”

‘I know, honey,” Sharon said, “but I really have to go see Mom. She’s so sick, and I haven’t been able to talk to her much since we moved here. And you know, she might not be around much longer.”

“But it’s only been four months since we moved,” I whined to Sharon.

“I know, dear. Besides, Mom would love to see the kids,” she said, “and I’ve been having the strangest feelings about - ”

“Look at all we’ve got to do around here,” I interrupted and protested, “The kids could help rake up the leaves, and pile up some of the smaller sticks.”

“There’s plenty for you to do without the kids too, Mike,” Sharon reminded, “You don’t need them to fix the plumbing or repaint the kitchen,” she paused, then started pointing, “or repair the banister, or reset the tile, or rewire the chandelier, or sweep the back porch.”

“The kids could sweep.”

“OK, that can wait until we get home. It’ll only be a few days.” She kissed me on the cheek. “I think you can survive.”

We packed her SUV. Well, mostly I did it. The kids carried their own little suitcases, pink for Amy and blue for Tony. Amy shrieked when she realized she had lost Buttons, her raggedy and worn doll. Sharon and I searched while Amy screamed and stomped her feet. We were frantic, knowing Amy wouldn’t sleep without it. I was relieved to find Buttons behind the door in her room. Amy snatched the doll, climbed into the car, and didn’t look back.

The tires crunched as they headed down the drive, dragging a dust storm behind them. I climbed the creaky wood steps to the front porch, and got pinged by a few flying pebbles. Sharon really should drive more gently on the rocks, I thought, or maybe I should get that paved.

The foyer opened into a large living room that was always dark. Of course, the lighting hadn’t been repaired yet. Add it to the list. Add it all to the list. I would do as much as I could while Sharon was in New Jersey.

As it turned out, the day was quite productive. I painted the kitchen that light green color that Sharon said complimented the forest-like feel of the house. I cleared debris from the back deck. I removed cobwebs from the closets, and scraped years of neglect off the bathroom tile. And the telephone company finally got the phones working.

“Oh that’s great,” Sharon said, when I called her cell phone,” What’s the new number?”

I told her, and recommended that she program it into her phone.

“I got it,” she assured me, “and we’re almost to Mom’s place.”

“I wish you were here, Sharon,” I said.

“Me too, hon. But remember, when we moved to the country you said I could visit her as much as I wanted.”

“She has all the home nursing care she needs. Besides, even when we lived close by, you only saw her once a week at most.”

“But I called every day. And in the country cell phones don’t work, and you never got the regular lines fixed. Until now, I mean.”

I should have taken care of that sooner.

“Oh, and Amy says that Buttons says hi,” Sharon relayed the message.

“Tell her to tell Buttons hello from me too,” I said back. The call ended with us promising to talk later, or maybe tomorrow.

I ached. A microwave pizza and bottle of Corona was all it took to send me to bed early. I didn’t even close the blinds in the bedroom. It got dark so early this time of year. And besides, there was nothing to keep me up in that dark, and now empty house.

It was no surprise to me that I felt lonely the next morning. As I came down the long staircase into the great room, a floorboard creaked and my breath caught. I grabbed the banister with a cold, wet palm. It was disconcerting being in such a large house all by myself. And it was so quiet. The early morning sun sent bright rays through cracks in the walls that were invisible when it was dark outside. Put it on the list , I thought.

I rounded the corner and shuffled into the kitchen, toward what I needed most, the coffee maker. I stopped suddenly and my heart skipped a beat. Someone was in the kitchen, her back toward me. I’m sure I let out a short yelp, or maybe a scream, but she didn’t move or turn to face me. She was obviously elderly, with wispy, short white hair, and she was wearing an old-style housecoat that fluttered about her skinny ankles and slippered feet.

“The house is rather drafty, Michael,” the woman said. She turned around slowly to face me.

“G–Grandma?” I was in shock. Could I be dreaming? But she was there. My grandmother was standing in my kitchen. “W-what -,“ I stammered.

“It’s all right Michael,” she said in a surprisingly reassuring tone. “Yes, it’s me, honey.”

“But you’ve been dead for, what, over thirty years now?”

She cringed, almost imperceptibly. “Thirty? My-oh-my.”

“What are you doing here?” I asked.

“I wanted to ask you the same thing, Michael. I certainly didn’t expect to see you, either.” She pointed a gnarly finger at the counter. “Now make yourself some coffee, hon, and then you can explain.”

I skipped the coffee. “I can explain? I can explain? I don’t even know what’s happening here!”

“You’re stammering Michael. Just like your father. He gets flustered so easily.” She shuffled out of the kitchen into the living room. I followed. She walked over to one of the windows, and peered out, viewing the backyard. I went over and stood next to her. “It’s such a beautiful place, isn’t it?” she stated more than asked.

“Y-yes, it is,” I answered, hardly believing I was having a conversation with my grandmother. “Am I asleep? Or maybe d-dead?” I shivered at the thought.

“I don’t think so,” she answered, “I know I’m not asleep. And no, you’re not dead. Not yet, anyway. But you are getting a bit gray there, Michael.” She flicked her fingers towards my hair, but didn’t actually touch me. “My-oh-my, how you’ve grown. Now, tell me what you’ve been up to.” She looked up with pale eyes that somehow still sparkled, surprisingly, considering her being dead and all.

We stood at the window, and I did most of the talking. I told her about Sharon, about the kids, about my job. I told her about the house, and how we came to buy it, and what we had planned.

“I’m so proud of you, Michael,” she said with a big grin. “You were always so sensible. But,” she said, “you might want to rethink this house."

“I don’t understand,” I replied.

“I’ll explain everything, Michael. But let’s sit down first. These old legs can’t keep me up for eternity.” She continued, “I’ll go out on the back porch and sit on that old couch,” she pointed out the window, “you go make that cup of coffee, and meet me there. I’ll save you a seat.” She smiled with that loving smile of the grandmother I always adored, and it warmed me to the bone. I went for coffee.

I wondered if I would awaken. I wondered if I was hallucinating. I wondered if she would still be there when I got back.

“You have cardinals out here, Michael.” I heard her call from the porch. “You really should put out some seed.”

“OK grandma,” I called back. She was still there, I knew.

I started back with my coffee, careful not to spill it. But I’d probably be sanding the floor later anyway, so what would it matter? Then I heard a conversation. Grandma was talking to someone. It sounded like another woman, maybe elderly. I couldn’t make out what they were saying. I hastened to the porch, splashing coffee out of the cup as I moved through the back door. Grandma was alone.

“I heard you talking to someone,” I said.

“Yes, she just appeared for a moment.”

“She? Who was she?” I asked.

“I don’t know her name,” replied Grandma. “She just wanted to leave you a message. She said to tell you it was under the bed.”

“Under the bed?” I wondered. “What’s under the bed?”

“I don’t know. That’s all she said, other than commenting on the birds.”

I shook my head. “So tell me what you were going to say.”

“Oh yes, honey. This house. You’re not supposed to be here,” she began, “Nobody is. At least nobody still alive. You see, this is our house.” She swept her arm out over the expanse of the yard. “Look around,” she said.

I turned my gaze, which had been riveted to her, and looked in astonishment across the yard. There were hundreds of people, everywhere. Some were huddled in groups; some were just walking around, or sitting under trees. They were talking, having conversations, and interacting with each other. There were children playing and laughing and running in circles after each other. I could hear them. And I could hear that people were inside the house too.

“Honey, you see what I mean? This is where we go. You’re not supposed to be here yet.” I looked into my grandmother’s eyes. “Your time will come,” she said softly.

I turned to look at the people in the yard. They were gone. The roar of their voices was gone. My grandmother remained. “Think about what I said, Michael.” She kissed me on the cheek, but I couldn’t feel it. And then she was gone too.

I stared at the birds, and wondered if my grandmother’s visit had been real.

The phone rang, and I startled. I stumbled into the house and picked it up. “H-hello?”

Sharon was sobbing on the other end. And I could hear Amy screaming in the background. “Hold on,” she sputtered. “We’ll find it in a minute!” I heard her yell to Amy. “Honey? It’s Mom, she’s, she’s . . . she died.” Sharon was trying to control her crying. “She just stopped breathing, and there wasn’t anything they could do.” Her sobbing let loose again.

“We’re coming home, Mike,” she finally said. My sister said she’d handle the arrangements. Sharon sniffed, “But we can’t find Buttons. Amy is going berserk, and Tony’s not helping.”

It hit me all at once. This eerie house. This strange day. The mysterious visit from my grandmother, and all those dead people. And that other old woman with the message.

“Sharon,” I said into the phone, “Buttons is under your mother's bed.”