A Daughter of Light(A Light onto the World)

Chapter 4

Chapter 4

I lay in bed replaying to myself the conversation I had with Sage.  He had just sat back down on the bench next to me and had asked me if I knew about what had happened in my house …

“No, what?” I ask, intrigued.  He rests his arm on the bench behind me.  Too close for my comfort.  I scoot farther away from him when his attention is diverted to his pocket as he reaches into it.  He pulls out a packet of gum and he takes out a piece.  He unwraps the aluminum wrapper and then pops the gum into his mouth.  He pulls out another one and again offers it to me, which I decline.

“The family who lived there before you said that strange things happened there.”

“What kind of strange things?”

“Well, they said they would hear footsteps, breathing, and see shadow figures out of the corner of their eyes — usually accompanied by an awful odor that smelt of death,” he replies theatrically, wrinkling his nose for emphasis.  “They said at night that they would hear a noise like something was scratching at their bedroom door, and that they’d hear footsteps leading up to their bed.”

“You’re kidding, right?  You’re not just saying that to freak me out, are you?”

“Nope.”

“Uh-huh.”

“I swear that’s what I heard.”

“How could —?”

“Are you gonna let me finish the story or not?” he says, impatiently cutting me off.

“Shutting up.”

“As I was saying, one morning when they woke up they found; Get the F out of here, written on every window and every mirror.  After that they split, leaving all their stuff behind.  There hasn’t been one person who set foot in that house since then.  Well, except for the Realtor and the cleaning crew.  Then you guys moved in.  I can’t believe the house even sold.  I heard the Realtor that sold the house say he couldn’t believe they were able to find a buyer.  He swore that he would never go back to it and that he doesn’t even care about representing the listing when it comes back on the market, which they didn’t expect would take long.”

“Seriously?”

“Dead serious.  The Realtor is a local and said he didn’t feel at ease at the place, that strange things happened there.  Hell, even the cleaning crew thought so — they kept quitting on them.  They even hired people from out of town.  No crew would spend more than a few days working there and they’d only work during the day.”

“Mmm-hmm.”

“You don’t believe me?”

“I believe that’s what you heard, but the story — not so much.”

“And why is that?”

“I just think that there has to be a rational explanation.”

“Explain.”

“Okay, I think they probably had mice,” I say, trying not to jump to conclusions.  I hope they’re gone by now.  I hate mice.

“Go on.”  Now it’s his turn to critique.

“Okay, I think the mice might have scratched their bedroom door.”

“Mice?”

“Possibly.”

“Okay, then Miss Know-it-all.  Explain the smell.”

“Fine, maybe a mouse had died.”

“The footsteps?”