The House on the Hill
The house on the hill. On the dreary, spooky hill. With twisted trees and thorned roots all along the dark ascent to the porch. Dark because of the constant fog that somehow surrounds my home. And yes, you heard that right, the spooky house up the hill is where I live.
I sat on the windowsill in my room, one leg swinging as it was wont to do, looking at the passersby at the foot of the hill. Praying to anyone that would hear for someone to come up. It's safe. I say. Don't be afraid. I plead. Frightened looks and uneasy steps were my only answer.
I still tried, still prayed, what else was there to do? Grandmother barely left her bed nowadays, and apart from making food, I had nothing else to do. Just go to town, you say, and there lies the crux of my sadness - I am bound to this place. Bound with body and soul to never leave it.
It always was a fancy of mine to think of the people just casually walking in the distance. Why weren't they bound to their homes? I would ask grandmother sometimes, but she would just mumble something incoherently.
One time I got mad and slammed my tray on her face. I don't know what came over me, just the frustration of living alone for so long perhaps. She didn't react, didn't even blink. That night I had horrible nightmares of grandmother chasing me, scaring me. I've never allowed myself to be angry at her since.
I sighed, jumping down from the windowsill and into my rickety bed. As I lay, I thought of my parents. Memories were fleeting, one had to cater to them or risk losing them forever. I'm not sure where I heard that, but I believe it. So, most nights before I fall asleep. I think of their smiling faces... so long ago...
Before I knew it morning had arrived. I got up. Started walking down the spiderwebs-infested corridors. I tried sweeping those once, but they are too high and I am too small. I still sweep the ever-present dust on the dark wooden floors. More out of boredom than anything else.
I make breakfast. Same as every day. Only one plant grew in our garden, and if I ever knew its name I had forgotten it. Grandmother didn't eat, just lay in her bed. I would see other old people walking around from time to time. Why could they move and grandmother couldn't?
Food done, I climbed up to my windowsill for another day of -
Two men stood at the foot of the hill. That's new. They even looked up the path. They were arguing? I put my hand on the window in anticipation. What's happening? This is the first time -
They started... they started walking up! I heard a little whimper escape my mouth. They struggled through the roots but didn't stop. They didn't stop! As they got closer I could see their faces - both young and determined. One was angry, the other... the other had a look I knew all too well - he was sad.
They were almost on the porch and soon - they were almost on the porch! I ran to open the front door. As I did they both jumped. The angry one stepped back - he carried a weapon, a shotgun it's called? While the other carried a book as he cautiously approached me.
He asks my name and I say I don't have one. I remember my mother calling me sweetling. I said as much, and the man tilted his head, curious. His impression really was so familiar.
The angry one asks if I am alone, I told them I am with my grandmother but she did not move from her bed. When I say this, the sad one gives the other a peculiar look.
After that they introduce themselves, the sad man is Terrence and the angry man is Bill. I tell them this is the first time anyone had come to my house and they said nothing. Was that a weird thing to say? Before I could ask, Terrence asks if they could come in, I put my hands in the air and shout: of course!
Once inside, Bill curses, he says words I never heard before. Terrence puts a hand on his shoulder and assures him this is the right thing to do. What is? Visiting me? Oh, maybe they are annoyed by all the spiderwebs. I said as much and Terrence said no. It's a lovely house.
He lies, I know it, but I feel nice. I am finally talking to someone! Bill asks me why I was smiling so much - he doesn't seem very nice. I tell him I am just excited. This makes him even angrier but Terrence calms him again. Why is Bill so angry?
Terrence scrolls through his book, pointing at the various points of the house and then at the pages. I look inside but don't recognize the drawings. But it seems Bill does because he nods. Then, Terrence asks if they could see grandmother.
Once we entered her room Bill starts cursing again. Something about the smell? He aims his weapon at grandmother but Terrence says it's no use. I don't understand. He asks again if she is the only other person in the house, and I tell him about how my parents left a long time ago. Terrence nods and says that I am a good boy.
He gets to the floor and starts ripping pages out of his book. He places each at odd angles, some on top of others, some he tore in two. I observe with an open mouth, this is so exciting!
It took him some time to finish. He then tells me and Bill to stand outside the room. Bill pushes me back as Terrence takes something from his coat and makes a fire. He then lits the center of the circle of pages he'd formed and steps back... singing something. I close my eyes to the stinging flames. So odd -
A shriek unlike anything I'd heard pierces my ears. I cover my ears and ask it to stop! Bill only curses so I open my eyes.
Grandmother... is floating, her eyes open as well. I see them then, pitch black voids - and felt my soul waver. Terrence didn't stop singing, his voice getting drowned out by the constant shrieking that comes from everywhere and nowhere.
The smoke makes me cough, and I remember Bill firing his weapon before darkness takes me...
I opened my eyes to a worried Terrence. Where... What... I am...
The man says that it's over. I ask after my grandmother and Bill and Terrence says they are gone. I ask where we are and Terrence says home. His home? No... my home...
It's... clean... the darkness... gone...
Mr. Terrence starts crying. I hug him and tell him it's alright, mom used to do that to me so it seemed fitting. He hugs me back.
I feel... lighter. I can't believe that this is my room. It feels so different. I see the windowsill and want to climb it, but Terrence says that I am to rest. My smile is genuine.
I ask if I can come with him, and Terrence nods. Yes... the fog is gone, the darkness lifted, the bond destroyed.
It is finally over...
This is the first draft of the story. Written by Jovan Gjorgjiev, ©️ 2023.
Obligatory shout-out to the 🍕PIZZA🍕 gang, 🤙 gang. 🤙
Hey guys, so this story is me challenging myself to write something without any dialogue. I don't think I've ever done that. 😅 Also, the first-person perspective in present tense is again something I've never used, so I tried it out here as well.
Hope you all enjoyed it!
👊 Follow me on my HIVE blog 👊
Cover image source.
Thanks for reading and I hope you are having a fantastic weekend! 👋