Stories That Touch

It’s 4pm, and the sun is just beginning its retreat when Dee pulls up in front of the house. She gets out of the car and makes her way up the driveway, not really paying attention because she’s so focused on straightening her clothes. She really needs this job, and so she desperately wants to make a good first impression. A few feet away from the door, she finally takes a good look at the building she’s been invited to and is instantly taken aback. It’s just two storeys and not very big, so there isn’t really much in terms of attention grabbing where size is concerned. What has Dee transfixed is the appearance of the house.

Like almost every house on the block, the upstairs has two windows. What’s unusual is that the wood on the windows is bleached bone white, and they are specks of black from what Dee assumed are cracks in the wood. It’s darker under the windows. Various ideas about what caused the stain run through Dee’s mind – mildew, or water stains maybe- but a part of her mind holds fast to the idea that the house is crying.

The grand porch leading up to the door is also bleached the same white as the windows, but the dark spots are absent. Instead, there are streaks that look a bit grayish and they make the support beams look a bit like bones that had been left out to dry. The porch roof is raised in the middle to form a sort of pyramid/triangle, and the part just above the door is bleached the same bony white. However, there’s an arrow pointing directly at the door, almost like the house itself is inviting you in.

The second storey windows have tinted glass, and are lit from withing so they look a bit like black eyeballs with red light coming through. Dee feels a shiver run down her spine, as she continues to examine the building. The rational part of her mind keeps singing in her mind how this is just a house and she’s over thinking things, a less rational part that has seen one too many horror movies keeps telling her the house looks evil.

As if to give more truth to her fears, the left window shuts off when Dee turns to leave, making it look like the house is winking. Rooted to the spot by fear, Dee watches as a shadow appears behind the window on the right, and then listens to the voices coming from the house. Soon after, the front door opens and a tall, well-built man strides towards her. His blonde hair is tussled in a kind of sweep across his head, and he’s wearing a dark grey business suit with a white shirt.

Before Dee can fully wrap her mind around what’s happening, the man’s hands have found one of hers and are pulling her towards the door while he prattles on and on about how wonderful it is that she could make it, and how glad he is to meet her, and other things that just sound like nonsense to her startled brain. And then they reach the front door, and she’s standing there in all her magnificent glory. She’s petite and blond, her luscious locks cascading down her shoulders in a classic southern belle way. Her dress, a deep resplendent purple, shows off her lithe body in perfect detail.

“Anthony, darling,” her voice is light as air itself. If that’s possible. “don’t you think you should let our guest catch her breath?” Her fingers pry my hand loose from his ans she pulls me into the house with her. When we’re a safe distance from her husband, she laughs and says “I told you that would happen.”


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