By: Monica P.
The house was dead quiet when I opened the door. I stepped inside its dark concave and smelt the
scent of stale perfume on the evening breath. I closed the door and it aired a gentle creak before its lock
fastened into place. I flicked on the foyer light switch with a strike from my forefinger. I looked around
and saw a cosy sofa to the left and a staircase to the right. I placed my bag onto the foyer rug and
shouted out a greeting to tell the house that I was home. Quietness returned to me. It was a dense
silence that itched me to my skin.
I ignored my feelings and traipsed towards the small kitchen door that lay to the far right. Inside the
kitchen was a smooth stainless steel preparation bench that stood before an army of cold silver items
which had been left to slumber as they sat quietly in disuse.
I walked to the silver fridge and opened its mouth. Inside was a vial of ice water, a bar of cold pate,
and a loaf of bread crustettes. I took out the pate and unveiled it from its plastic wrap. One sniff scent
my senses spiralling, and I quickly dropped the pate into an empty bin that was covered with a film of
dust. I next grabbed the crustettes and removed one from the packet. The small wheaten biscuit was, as
expected, hard and stale as crustettes should be. I placed a corner into my mouth and took a bite. The
hard crust was too much for my delicate teeth and I felt a chip become born right away. I threw the
crustettes into the bin, and then with a grumbling stomach orating its continuing discomfort I traipsed
back to the foyer and picked up my baggage.
I stormed up the flight of stairs that loomed in the corner. My burst of anger fuelled me all the way,
and I hardly felt an ounce of effort until I reached the very top. A pang hit my chest hard, and I felt my
heartbeat break its steady rhythm. I dropped my bag immediately and hung onto the wooden rail to my
left. I deep breathed for a few minutes, breathed away my bodily discomfort in having actually actioned
some exercise. The pang soon wafted away and I was left to feel a little red faced about my lack of
fitness. I jotted fitness as something to improve while back at home resting with the family who seemed
to have so far not noticed my arrival.
I picked my bag up again and moved on. I passed the first door that was my daughter's room. It was
a pretty room decorated in pink paint, and light pink drapes. She was the baby of the family - barely nine
years old. She had auburn brown hair, chocolate fudge eyes, and a smile that can charm your wallet of its
worth. I dreaded to see her bloom into a teenager. She was no doubt set to strip me of my fortune. I
hated to love to spoil her – but I did anyway. I even spoilt her when on off site location. I had brought
her a diamond bracelet. It was a terribly expensive purchase, but I saw her smile when my eyes became
bedazzled with it as it sat in its display window and I could not walk away.
On I walked and passed the next door. That was my wife's mother's room. It was a plain room, with
floral wallpaper and yellow curtains. I hardly saw the shadow of the woman who lived behind it. Meals
were brought to her door and left on a tray. She wore a black veil night and day when on the move in
orde to hide her marked face. Was it hideous? I had no idea. Even in photographs the old woman was
seen wearing it like some mask that could not be pried from her. I asked my dear wife the reason for it,
and she murmured out one reason after another.
"She's unevolved." she'd say. "She's nervous. She's shy."
I stepped away from my questions that day and never looked back.
I stepped on to the third room, which was my room. I opened the door and smelt dust. It was odd,
for my dear wife always opened the windows at morning's birth. This was the room she always kept in
prime condition. It was our private retreat where our world merged and became a fulfilled one in which we
could relax together, bask on fresh silken sheets, fumble around the ornate makeup table, and relax in
the hot tub that bubbled out water from its side jets.
"Home sweet home." my thoughts cheered as I plonked my bag onto the grey carpet below my feet.
I clasped my hands together and felt something odd. I looked to them and saw a film of grainy dust
that was the colour of a boxer's bruise after a match. I rubbed my fingers together and felt the grain a
little more. I glanced back to the door and crawled my eyes over the doorknob. My fingerprints stained its
brass surface that was otherwise covered in dark grey grime. It was odd to see – so very odd.
I shrugged of a tingle that spread down my spine and decided that it was time for a bath. I shrugged
off my coat, stripped off my tie, and bent low to my feet and untied my shoe's black laces that sat in
knotted bows. I kicked off my shoes and walked to the bathroom where a deep bowl awaited my
presence. I reached the bathtub and jumped as I spied a dish of black grime. Before I could question why
my wife had not cleaned since my departure, I moved to the tap so that I may rid the bath of the black
dust as soon as possible. I turned on the hot tap – but to my surprise nothing came out. I hit the spout
once and then twice over the head. Nothing, there was nothing. Dumbfound struck me as
disappointment burned through my skin. I gritted my teeth and turned my attention to the shower. I
opened the cubicle door and got chilled to my skin as my eyes met string after string of black cobweb. I
closed the cubicle door and turned away. Sweat rose on my brow as my temperamental mind fired
questions. I took my leave and raced out my skidding socks collecting a film of dust from the tiles below.
Back in the foyer of my bedroom everything seemed normal. I took a breath and calmed myself down
until my sweat was nothing but an evaporated stain that could only faintly continue to be felt atop of my
dry skin. I glanced at the window and noticed a slight fog had arisen outside. I sniffed as I remembered
afternoon fogs could be caused from forest fire. My nostrils smelt nothing but dust. Particles wafted into
my flared nostrils and itched them from the inside. I sneezed. I was a loud and obtrusive outburst that
hurt. I took a handkerchief from my pocket and wiped my nose. Into its soft cotton swathe I sneezed
once more - a sharp blow then ceased continual sneezes.
I sighed and placed my handkerchief back inside my pocket. I glanced at my wristwatch as my
stomach rumbled out its desire to become filled with some food. It was a little after six pm – the right
time to have a bite to eat. I picked up a phone book from the bookshelf that lined the wall to the right.
Dust became stuck to my skin as I traced its pages. I found the number for a reliable fast food service,
then I ambled to the bedside desk, and picked up the phone that sat upon its glass surface. My fingers
punched the number I had half memorized as I pressed the receiver close to my right ear. Only when I
had dropped the phonebook onto the bed did I realize that the phone was dead. Questions buzzed as I
moved again to strike the buttons in order to dial the same number before its digits wafted from my
brain. However no connection was made.
I dropped the phone as a smack hit me in the face. I looked back to the window and raced to it as my
heartbeat drummed out a wild jungle rhythm. I peered through its glass and saw the smudge of fog. I
took a breath, reached for the clear surface, and wiped a fleshy palm against it. The fog disappeared as
my hand became smudged with a different kind of dust that was light grey in colour. Alarm spread
throughout my body as it stiffened.
I stepped back and bumped calves against the bed. I sat as questions buzzed through me. A puff of
dust sprang out from the blanketing spread over the mattress. I sneezed once, and then twice. I took
out the handkerchief and sneezed a few more times before my nose became emersed in its cloth. I blew
once, and then again. I blew hard to rid my nostrils of the lightweight debris. I sneezed and blew at the
same time, and then shed a few watery tears as I blew so hard it made my nose sound off its own horn.
The sneezes subsided drastically. I blew once more for good measure, and then took the cloth away. I
sighed out my relief as a wave of discomfort scratched me.
I stirred, turned my head, and looked at the doorway. I got up and marched straight for my
daughter's room. I opened the door with one swing of my arm, and gasped as a new pang was felt within
my chest like a dagger of a madman as it struck at its newest victim. Black dust covered the pretty pink
that sparkled with diamonds of cleanliness. I swished my view over the light pink drapes and saw them
coated with dark debris.
"Ma!" I cried out in gasp as I raced to the last door I had thus far left closed.
I turned the knob – it was easier to open then the other two doors. Immediately I lost balance as my
weight clumsily stumbled through the doorframe. I fell to the carpet below and hit my head hard against
the floor. Dust wafted up from the hairs of the carpet, black dust that was as dark as a moonlit night.
The particles floated inside my mouth and caused me to choke. I coughed and gasped as particles
wandered down to the caverns of my chest. I got up and hacked through my chokes as light sensation
crept atop of my brain and caused it to become filled with nauseousness. I wiped my mouth with the
sleeve of my shirt and looked about. Black cobwebs hung loose from corner to corner. I gasped and
retreated as shock slapped me with swift force.
I scattered to the staircase, and tripped down its jagged spine. I ran to the foyer door and opened it
with one swift tug.
"Help!" I screamed to the midnight sky that had set above a tired world. "Help!" I screamed for good
measure as my hands clung to the roots of my hair.
I felt my tears dribble with saline drool as misunderstand warped my mind of its knowledge. Crickets
woke from their slumber in the dense forest that surrounded the place, and hummed their throaty tune
to the world as I hollered my last cry. My ears picked up their sound and let its song reverberate through
my mind until my exaggerations were placed inside a box.
Slowly I turned back to the house that stood like a cold cement carton. My eyes sharply darted to the
left, and then to the right. I spied cobwebs hanging off windows, crusted grey ferns leaning against walls,
and grass as dead as a skeleton's heart. It looked as though no one had lived on the premises for
centuries.
Fright jabbed at me, and like a coward I ran for the car that I had left parked in the driveway. I dove
inside its belly and slammed the door behind me. Quickly I moved to turn on the engine, but stopped
when I found that my tremble-strung fingers held no key.
"No…" I whispered as I felt my pockets for the key. "No!" I repeated sharply as my pockets failed to
hold the moulded metal form.
My memory picked up, and I quickly realized that I had left my key in my jacket pocket whose form lay
on the bedroom carpet inside the house. I caught my breath as my eyes reached out to view the silent
abode that lay in entombment. Chills shivered my skin and caused it to become dotted with pimples.
I stroppily got out, and with my head hung low I marched back to the house. Inside I sped to my
bedroom suite with my eyes half closed. I stumbled up the staircase, and scurried to the doorway. I
spied my jacket and my shoes and raced over to them. I picked up both items and then raced out in
swift retreat before I could view any more wretchedness. I reached the staircase in record time and
hurried to stumble down its back. However I tripped on my loose sock halfway down, and fell. I rolled like
a ball after having been pushed. I tumbled right to the bottom step and crashed on the foyer carpet
below.
My face crunched under the weight of the heavy blow, and I snorted my blood as it squirted out from
my heaving nostrils. I lay like a squashed ant fully incapacitated as my breath heaved sharply in and out
of my cut mouth. I opened my left eye and peered across at the foyer entrance and then looked out into
the darkness that lay past its frame. The crickets could be heard singing its raucous lullaby. Its tune
seemed hollower then before – it were as though the crickets had turned into husk form in the minutes
past and now chirped their song through vacant breath.
I forced myself to get up with a push. I looked back to the staircase where my coat lay hung on its
jagged shoulders. I crawled up on my hands and knees as my nose snorted in the heavy scent of blood.
I grabbed my coat, and then picked up my shoes that lay on rungs beneath. Achingly I stood and
stumbled for the doorway. My balance tipped from side to side as my vision blurred. I tried to walk in a
straight line, but stumbled to the right as my balance became pushed from its visionary path until I hit
the plaster wall.
A calendar was knocked by the reverberating force of the bump, and fell from its blue tack nail. It
dropped into my fingers that were now empty of all objects. I numbly caught it as my mind whined about
the pain that could be felt on my crushed face. I glanced at the calendar and noticed that the month was
set on May. I rolled up my sleeve in order to glance my watch and saw that it was October. I glanced that
the calendar again and noticed on the second day of the month there was a circled message.
"Leaving to give daddy a birthday surprise." wrote an infant's scrawl
"Catch flight 137 at 9.30am." wrote an adult's cursive print underneath.
My mind traced back to the month of my birthday. I had been swamped with heavy work and could
not be pried away - not even to accept a phone call from my family. Many days had been the same after
that one. I spent hours travelling and working under the greatest of pressures. In the evening I would
slump down to some rest on the very same table I worked. I had no time to call anyone; only occasionally
did I bother to quickly send an e-mail message to my wife and its words were as cold as my damp mood,
which could not be brightened for anything but the return home from the nightmare that I was stuck in. I
had never even thought it odd when I had received no reply. I didn't think. I just knew I was to be gone
for a certain number of months, and then would return after my time was through.
I roamed eyes about the place and soaked in the sight of the hideous black debris that I now saw
covered floor to roof. No one was here. I looked to the calendar and recalled that no one had visited me
on my birthday. In one clarifying moment I dropped the calendar and fell to my knees as grief swamped
my head with heaviness as I realized there was no family any more.
The house was dead quiet when I opened the door. I stepped inside its dark concave and smelt the
scent of stale perfume on the evening breath. I closed the door and it aired a gentle creak before its lock
fastened into place. I flicked on the foyer light switch with a strike from my forefinger. I looked around
and saw a cosy sofa to the left and a staircase to the right. I placed my bag onto the foyer rug and
shouted out a greeting to tell the house that I was home. Quietness returned to me. It was a dense
silence that itched me to my skin.
I ignored my feelings and traipsed towards the small kitchen door that lay to the far right. Inside the
kitchen was a smooth stainless steel preparation bench that stood before an army of cold silver items
which had been left to slumber as they sat quietly in disuse.
I walked to the silver fridge and opened its mouth. Inside was a vial of ice water, a bar of cold pate,
and a loaf of bread crustettes. I took out the pate and unveiled it from its plastic wrap. One sniff scent
my senses spiralling, and I quickly dropped the pate into an empty bin that was covered with a film of
dust. I next grabbed the crustettes and removed one from the packet. The small wheaten biscuit was, as
expected, hard and stale as crustettes should be. I placed a corner into my mouth and took a bite. The
hard crust was too much for my delicate teeth and I felt a chip become born right away. I threw the
crustettes into the bin, and then with a grumbling stomach orating its continuing discomfort I traipsed
back to the foyer and picked up my baggage.
I stormed up the flight of stairs that loomed in the corner. My burst of anger fuelled me all the way,
and I hardly felt an ounce of effort until I reached the very top. A pang hit my chest hard, and I felt my
heartbeat break its steady rhythm. I dropped my bag immediately and hung onto the wooden rail to my
left. I deep breathed for a few minutes, breathed away my bodily discomfort in having actually actioned
some exercise. The pang soon wafted away and I was left to feel a little red faced about my lack of
fitness. I jotted fitness as something to improve while back at home resting with the family who seemed
to have so far not noticed my arrival.
I picked my bag up again and moved on. I passed the first door that was my daughter's room. It was
a pretty room decorated in pink paint, and light pink drapes. She was the baby of the family - barely nine
years old. She had auburn brown hair, chocolate fudge eyes, and a smile that can charm your wallet of its
worth. I dreaded to see her bloom into a teenager. She was no doubt set to strip me of my fortune. I
hated to love to spoil her – but I did anyway. I even spoilt her when on off site location. I had brought
her a diamond bracelet. It was a terribly expensive purchase, but I saw her smile when my eyes became
bedazzled with it as it sat in its display window and I could not walk away.
On I walked and passed the next door. That was my wife's mother's room. It was a plain room, with
floral wallpaper and yellow curtains. I hardly saw the shadow of the woman who lived behind it. Meals
were brought to her door and left on a tray. She wore a black veil night and day when on the move in
orde to hide her marked face. Was it hideous? I had no idea. Even in photographs the old woman was
seen wearing it like some mask that could not be pried from her. I asked my dear wife the reason for it,
and she murmured out one reason after another.
"She's unevolved." she'd say. "She's nervous. She's shy."
I stepped away from my questions that day and never looked back.
I stepped on to the third room, which was my room. I opened the door and smelt dust. It was odd,
for my dear wife always opened the windows at morning's birth. This was the room she always kept in
prime condition. It was our private retreat where our world merged and became a fulfilled one in which we
could relax together, bask on fresh silken sheets, fumble around the ornate makeup table, and relax in
the hot tub that bubbled out water from its side jets.
"Home sweet home." my thoughts cheered as I plonked my bag onto the grey carpet below my feet.
I clasped my hands together and felt something odd. I looked to them and saw a film of grainy dust
that was the colour of a boxer's bruise after a match. I rubbed my fingers together and felt the grain a
little more. I glanced back to the door and crawled my eyes over the doorknob. My fingerprints stained its
brass surface that was otherwise covered in dark grey grime. It was odd to see – so very odd.
I shrugged of a tingle that spread down my spine and decided that it was time for a bath. I shrugged
off my coat, stripped off my tie, and bent low to my feet and untied my shoe's black laces that sat in
knotted bows. I kicked off my shoes and walked to the bathroom where a deep bowl awaited my
presence. I reached the bathtub and jumped as I spied a dish of black grime. Before I could question why
my wife had not cleaned since my departure, I moved to the tap so that I may rid the bath of the black
dust as soon as possible. I turned on the hot tap – but to my surprise nothing came out. I hit the spout
once and then twice over the head. Nothing, there was nothing. Dumbfound struck me as
disappointment burned through my skin. I gritted my teeth and turned my attention to the shower. I
opened the cubicle door and got chilled to my skin as my eyes met string after string of black cobweb. I
closed the cubicle door and turned away. Sweat rose on my brow as my temperamental mind fired
questions. I took my leave and raced out my skidding socks collecting a film of dust from the tiles below.
Back in the foyer of my bedroom everything seemed normal. I took a breath and calmed myself down
until my sweat was nothing but an evaporated stain that could only faintly continue to be felt atop of my
dry skin. I glanced at the window and noticed a slight fog had arisen outside. I sniffed as I remembered
afternoon fogs could be caused from forest fire. My nostrils smelt nothing but dust. Particles wafted into
my flared nostrils and itched them from the inside. I sneezed. I was a loud and obtrusive outburst that
hurt. I took a handkerchief from my pocket and wiped my nose. Into its soft cotton swathe I sneezed
once more - a sharp blow then ceased continual sneezes.
I sighed and placed my handkerchief back inside my pocket. I glanced at my wristwatch as my
stomach rumbled out its desire to become filled with some food. It was a little after six pm – the right
time to have a bite to eat. I picked up a phone book from the bookshelf that lined the wall to the right.
Dust became stuck to my skin as I traced its pages. I found the number for a reliable fast food service,
then I ambled to the bedside desk, and picked up the phone that sat upon its glass surface. My fingers
punched the number I had half memorized as I pressed the receiver close to my right ear. Only when I
had dropped the phonebook onto the bed did I realize that the phone was dead. Questions buzzed as I
moved again to strike the buttons in order to dial the same number before its digits wafted from my
brain. However no connection was made.
I dropped the phone as a smack hit me in the face. I looked back to the window and raced to it as my
heartbeat drummed out a wild jungle rhythm. I peered through its glass and saw the smudge of fog. I
took a breath, reached for the clear surface, and wiped a fleshy palm against it. The fog disappeared as
my hand became smudged with a different kind of dust that was light grey in colour. Alarm spread
throughout my body as it stiffened.
I stepped back and bumped calves against the bed. I sat as questions buzzed through me. A puff of
dust sprang out from the blanketing spread over the mattress. I sneezed once, and then twice. I took
out the handkerchief and sneezed a few more times before my nose became emersed in its cloth. I blew
once, and then again. I blew hard to rid my nostrils of the lightweight debris. I sneezed and blew at the
same time, and then shed a few watery tears as I blew so hard it made my nose sound off its own horn.
The sneezes subsided drastically. I blew once more for good measure, and then took the cloth away. I
sighed out my relief as a wave of discomfort scratched me.
I stirred, turned my head, and looked at the doorway. I got up and marched straight for my
daughter's room. I opened the door with one swing of my arm, and gasped as a new pang was felt within
my chest like a dagger of a madman as it struck at its newest victim. Black dust covered the pretty pink
that sparkled with diamonds of cleanliness. I swished my view over the light pink drapes and saw them
coated with dark debris.
"Ma!" I cried out in gasp as I raced to the last door I had thus far left closed.
I turned the knob – it was easier to open then the other two doors. Immediately I lost balance as my
weight clumsily stumbled through the doorframe. I fell to the carpet below and hit my head hard against
the floor. Dust wafted up from the hairs of the carpet, black dust that was as dark as a moonlit night.
The particles floated inside my mouth and caused me to choke. I coughed and gasped as particles
wandered down to the caverns of my chest. I got up and hacked through my chokes as light sensation
crept atop of my brain and caused it to become filled with nauseousness. I wiped my mouth with the
sleeve of my shirt and looked about. Black cobwebs hung loose from corner to corner. I gasped and
retreated as shock slapped me with swift force.
I scattered to the staircase, and tripped down its jagged spine. I ran to the foyer door and opened it
with one swift tug.
"Help!" I screamed to the midnight sky that had set above a tired world. "Help!" I screamed for good
measure as my hands clung to the roots of my hair.
I felt my tears dribble with saline drool as misunderstand warped my mind of its knowledge. Crickets
woke from their slumber in the dense forest that surrounded the place, and hummed their throaty tune
to the world as I hollered my last cry. My ears picked up their sound and let its song reverberate through
my mind until my exaggerations were placed inside a box.
Slowly I turned back to the house that stood like a cold cement carton. My eyes sharply darted to the
left, and then to the right. I spied cobwebs hanging off windows, crusted grey ferns leaning against walls,
and grass as dead as a skeleton's heart. It looked as though no one had lived on the premises for
centuries.
Fright jabbed at me, and like a coward I ran for the car that I had left parked in the driveway. I dove
inside its belly and slammed the door behind me. Quickly I moved to turn on the engine, but stopped
when I found that my tremble-strung fingers held no key.
"No…" I whispered as I felt my pockets for the key. "No!" I repeated sharply as my pockets failed to
hold the moulded metal form.
My memory picked up, and I quickly realized that I had left my key in my jacket pocket whose form lay
on the bedroom carpet inside the house. I caught my breath as my eyes reached out to view the silent
abode that lay in entombment. Chills shivered my skin and caused it to become dotted with pimples.
I stroppily got out, and with my head hung low I marched back to the house. Inside I sped to my
bedroom suite with my eyes half closed. I stumbled up the staircase, and scurried to the doorway. I
spied my jacket and my shoes and raced over to them. I picked up both items and then raced out in
swift retreat before I could view any more wretchedness. I reached the staircase in record time and
hurried to stumble down its back. However I tripped on my loose sock halfway down, and fell. I rolled like
a ball after having been pushed. I tumbled right to the bottom step and crashed on the foyer carpet
below.
My face crunched under the weight of the heavy blow, and I snorted my blood as it squirted out from
my heaving nostrils. I lay like a squashed ant fully incapacitated as my breath heaved sharply in and out
of my cut mouth. I opened my left eye and peered across at the foyer entrance and then looked out into
the darkness that lay past its frame. The crickets could be heard singing its raucous lullaby. Its tune
seemed hollower then before – it were as though the crickets had turned into husk form in the minutes
past and now chirped their song through vacant breath.
I forced myself to get up with a push. I looked back to the staircase where my coat lay hung on its
jagged shoulders. I crawled up on my hands and knees as my nose snorted in the heavy scent of blood.
I grabbed my coat, and then picked up my shoes that lay on rungs beneath. Achingly I stood and
stumbled for the doorway. My balance tipped from side to side as my vision blurred. I tried to walk in a
straight line, but stumbled to the right as my balance became pushed from its visionary path until I hit
the plaster wall.
A calendar was knocked by the reverberating force of the bump, and fell from its blue tack nail. It
dropped into my fingers that were now empty of all objects. I numbly caught it as my mind whined about
the pain that could be felt on my crushed face. I glanced at the calendar and noticed that the month was
set on May. I rolled up my sleeve in order to glance my watch and saw that it was October. I glanced that
the calendar again and noticed on the second day of the month there was a circled message.
"Leaving to give daddy a birthday surprise." wrote an infant's scrawl
"Catch flight 137 at 9.30am." wrote an adult's cursive print underneath.
My mind traced back to the month of my birthday. I had been swamped with heavy work and could
not be pried away - not even to accept a phone call from my family. Many days had been the same after
that one. I spent hours travelling and working under the greatest of pressures. In the evening I would
slump down to some rest on the very same table I worked. I had no time to call anyone; only occasionally
did I bother to quickly send an e-mail message to my wife and its words were as cold as my damp mood,
which could not be brightened for anything but the return home from the nightmare that I was stuck in. I
had never even thought it odd when I had received no reply. I didn't think. I just knew I was to be gone
for a certain number of months, and then would return after my time was through.
I roamed eyes about the place and soaked in the sight of the hideous black debris that I now saw
covered floor to roof. No one was here. I looked to the calendar and recalled that no one had visited me
on my birthday. In one clarifying moment I dropped the calendar and fell to my knees as grief swamped
my head with heaviness as I realized there was no family any more.
THE HOMECOMING