SPIRIT OF MY BELOVED HOUSE
I bought my beloved house when I was 30 years old. It was my first major investment; something I knew would be mine, forever. Ever since I was a little girl, I had always wanted a house on the outskirts of the town, with a front yard, where my Woofer could run and play. The front yard is where everyone was buried.
Now, a man is playing catch with his daughter in my yard. I don’t like that man. He has no right to stay here. Yet, he lives at my house. His family forced their way inside my beloved house a week back. For the past week, they keep shifting my furniture across the house. I have tried time and again to explain to them but they believe that as they live here now, they can do whatever they want.
Not on my watch!
MAKING FRIENDS
I befriend the sweet little girl. After all, it’s not her fault that her parents chose to stay here. But she will have to go. I go to her room in the night, after her mother leaves, and talk to her. She tells me stories about her school. Tell her stories about my house. I tell her stories about Woofer. I tell her stories about my family.
I have started telling her bad stories now- stories of monsters behind the smile, stories of ruined childhood, stories of choking voices, and hating eyes. She can’t sleep alone anymore. She talks less now, smiles less. Her laughter has disappeared in the deep corners of her heart which is trying hard to clear the clutter that I have showered on her.
She calls out my name in her sleep now. Her parents know me as her friends, so they are not overly concerned about it. I am her friend; after all, I tell her bedtime stories, don’t I? Sometimes I tell her about fun activities we can do together, but of course, she would have to do something for me first. Once had her bust her dad’s car so we could play hide-and-seek. It was such fun! We ran giggling from the yard when she threw the rock at the car. Playing with this child, I sometimes yearn for my own, but alas, I don’t have one.
BUSTED
They’ve found out about me. She told her mother about me, how I was the one who told her those stories, who told her to throw rocks at the car, to lock her mother in the bathroom. The little brat told on me! And the parents are, unjustly, scared of me now. They tried to take my beloved house from me whereas I befriended their child, and they are scared of me! Hah! What a joke!
It’s been three days since they came to know about me, they want me gone from the house. The past three days, they have been trying to find ways to throw me out of the house. From the bedroom window, I see the man digging in the yard. The girl stands weeping near him, as her mother holds her tight. The man is digging under my favorite mango tree, and he keeps on digging, till he finds me. He’s found me, where I was buried alive by my cheating husband 50 years ago, next to my Woofer. I feel dizzy now. I think it is time for me to go, leave my beloved house. Bye, little girl, you can stay here after all…
