Quote:
Originally Posted by David
That sounds eerie & haunting, like Saki's "The Open Window" or Hoffmann's "The Sandman."
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Well as a kid I wrote Sci-Fi and Fantasy, but now that I am getting older - I have been writing more physcological themed stories.
Here it is, in a very raw, unedited version:
The Previous Owner
Vermont, New York State -1977
Mindy looked out the frost covered window, her hand pressing against the glass. She was a lonely soul, living in a world that was far too fast to yield friends or love. At least she had a new home, a home of somewhat grand character. It was a classic country home, one that was built for laughter and love. But there was to be no laughter or love in the ‘Big Blue House on the Hill’ for she was a woman of spitefulness.
The blue house was the latest acquisition from her father’s death. It seemed like a perfectly normal house, which was situated on a huge hill covered in fine maple trees.
Mindy’s brown hair and dark brown eyes could tell many a story, and it was these stories of sadness that molded the young woman’s entirety. She seemed so very bitter, but she only a woman of young age. You could it through her stressed smile, or her daunting presence. Mindy never had a childhood, to any extent. She was a pawn in an endless world of typewriters and cold coffee. Her father, the towering businessman - was lost in a world of mistresses and scams. There was no time for a little girl, or even a wife. Mindy’s mother was long gone, and so Mindy brought herself up – in a very cruel world. There was no kiss goodnight, no home cooked meal.
At the window sill, she looked at the children playing. As she looked on to what she never hand she felt a chill inside the house. The chill tingled down her spine, aching slightly.
“Hello? Is anyone there?” She asked in an autonomous voice.
All that replied was the nectar of pure, virgin silence. However, it was a silence of cold fear – a symptom created by unknown factors.
After cursing and cussing the children wordlessly, she left and turned around. There was nothing, only boxed furniture - in an old musty room. Mindy was sure there was someone inside the house, or at least a presence.
“Do you still love me too?” cried a soft, somber sound. She cried in such a sad tone, in such a poignant mood.
Mindy faced silence again, who was in the house?
“Frightened Mindy?” the sweet voice asked. “What fears do you harbor?”
Mindy picked up the crowbar, from a pile of boxes. However, this was no robbery - or even a crime at all. In fact, Mindy hadn’t realized there was actually no intruder at all. But she was wrong.
“I’ve got the Sheriff on my telephone, intruder” shrieked Mindy.
There was no reply, nothing. In fright Mindy ran up creaky, wooden stairs in haste. Could it have been a phantom? That could not be possible; Mindy was a woman of knowledge and logic. There was no room for phobias or fear in her childhood.
Mindy was sure it was gone, and ran into an idle bedroom. She shut the door tight, and collapsed in fright and exhaustion. It was the damn kids!, Mindy thought to herself. She swiftly let go of the knob and turned around to find a woman sitting in a chair. She sat so quietly, her hair so perfect – a mirror image of something Mindy could not put her finger on. She was so beautiful though, but it was not the beauty of a siren – but something so different.
“You never came, not once to visit me” she swiftly with the wind, winding wildly out of her mouth.
Mindy stared at the woman in confusion.
“Visit you?” Mindy said out clear uncertainty. “Who are you?”
The woman stood up, prancing around the room in such a strange way. Was the woman a dancer?
“Oh, Mindy how I wished I could’ve have danced with you!” said the woman, her magical brunette hair curdling as she took another step.
“Who are you?” asked Mindy – certainly now it was no prank, but something of a supernatural event.
“I am the previous owner of the property” answered the woman. “Where else would I have gone, this was my place”
Mindy stared right back at the dancing ghost, “I still love you Ma”
FIN