house number thirteen

The featureless landscape around me complimented my spiritless blues. The house was huge and square. Fuchsia trees and yellow gorse surrounded it, the reminiscing past hovering over the future. It was the typical -quote-unquote- haunted house of every neighborhood. Our neighborhood is very small. We only have 3 lanes; Crowhaven, Sliverheir, and Arcane. Most of the houses were empty, owners often abandoned them. Selcouth village wasn't exactly somewhere people wanted to stay, and yet that house was the strangest of them all.

I grew up lonely, my mother abandoned me when I was 4, and my father was the only family I ever had… until it lasted. He got into gambling, and one day, he just left. And that was that. That was where the happy ended anyway. Our house, or should I say, manor, was huge. We had 3 different libraries, and I had the biggest room. For one girl and her chambermaid, the manor was always mostly empty. There were so many secret pathways and hidden rooms, but I was too scared to even explore. The only places I ever went to were my room, the closest library (which I soon named, 'my study'), and of course the restroom. Food was served to me by my maid, Esther, so I never entered my kitchen. 

Most nights I don't dream, I just drift away to sleep, and awake at dawn. But on the more frightful nights, I do. And it's always the same dream. There is a beautiful house, surrounding it are vibrant acacia flowers, lavender, and creepers alongside the little creaks. It feels familiar, but my memory is too hazy to remember anything. All around is a huge expanse, a wild field, a moorland. The wooden door is partially open. My instinct tells me to go inside. But that would be dumb, wouldn't it? Before i can ponder any longer, my feet take me towards it, my hands turn the handle, and just like that, I'm inside. Everything seems familiar. The ancient painting on the brick walls, the scraped table, the brittle vase, with the dead purple flower, even the scent is familiar. My feet lead further inside the house. Am I even supposed to be here? 

I enter a room, it's a bedroom, it looks just like mine, but it isn't. It's larger than mine, and has two windows. The curtains are faintly scintillating, silky with a soft frail. I look outside, and I can see the moor. Wild. suddenly I find myself turning to the bookshelf in the room. Most of them are ancient, dusty, and quant. The shelf turned to reveal a pathway. Of course, it had to be something so classic and typical? I walked inside, this time with my own will. It leads me to a room. The only source of light is a lamp, radiating a disturbing yellow light. There was a chair, and on it there sat my father. I stare in shock. My jaw-dropping, my eyes widening, I wanted to say something but no sound came out at all. He's wearing what I last saw him in, a navy-blue polo shirt, and black sweatpants. He's not moving, but I hear his voice, "hazel…". I jerk to realization every time at that dialogue. I never know what happens next. I try to continue the dream, but it just ends there. 

That day, Esther woke up late. I was up, but I lay in bed. I had had that dream again. The truth is that I've never been to the other parts of my house ever since my father left. I was never allowed -even as a baby- into his room. But it was time I did what was right. Without thinking twice, I swiftly tiptoe to his room. The door is jammed but opens after a little push. I can see even Esther never entered his room. The room is neatly organized. But what surprises the most is the layout. Or maybe, I'm not that surprised, deep down inside, I knew the house in my dreams, was my own. I just wasn't aware that the room would be my father's. I move towards the large bookshelf. It turns at my rhythmic tap. Briskly, i stride through the narrow path. The lamp is still there, and so is the chair, but he isn't. My nostrils are filled with his scent. His. the pungent, zesty and heavy cologne that he always wore. 

I guess this is why they called my manor, the forbidden one. The house number 13 after all.