Visions, Revisited

It had been years since I last visited that old house on the corner. It was nothing remarkable, just a dinky little cottage with flowers growing around it, and a little swinging seat on the front porch. It still looked good as new, even if it hadn't been lived in for many years. Someone still mowed the grass, kept the windows shiny, maybe weeded the garden, or swept the porch for good measure. It was well cared for.

I left my car, slamming the door shut behind me and walking up to the stairs leading into the house. I took a good look up at it, sighing as the memories of living here came back to me. Christmas mornings with my mom and dad, water balloon fights with my brothers and sister, stargazing on the back porch with my old telescope...

I exhaled, realizing I was getting misty-eyed remembering it all. I shook my head, then climbed up the stairs. The boards creaked and bent slightly underneath my footsteps, and I suddenly realized just how old this house really was. It was built in 1918 and was only remodeled in the 1960s, just years before I was born. I walked up to the front door, turning the knob. To my surprise, it was already unlocked. I wondered who had been here before me, but I shrugged it off, thinking it was probably my brother Warren or my sister Rosie. Mom and dad had long passed away, and I was estranged from my younger brother Matt. It was a shame about Matt, I thought to myself; I was closest to him when I was growing up, but he moved to New York for college and we accidentally lost contact.

I stepped into the house. Immediately I could smell the mold and mildew, as well as some lingering scents from long ago. Other than every room being empty, it still looked the same as it did when everyone had moved out following my mother's death in 1992. My father moved down to Texas to start a business, vowing to never return to Michigan. He later died of a heart attack following a rather unfortunate event that befell his business. Rosie started a candle-making business, married a nice man, later on having two kids. Warren moved to Chicago to start a band, which became moderately successful in the area. I'm still proud of him for that one.

I walked through the kitchen, remembering baking with my mom and bickering over the last bit of cereal with Matt. I chuckled, remembering just how funny we were as kids. I looked out the window, at which point I noticed it was broken in one place, and I saw the water damage from all the rain and snow. I sighed. There was a lot of work to be done on this house before it could be habitable again.

Something appeared in the corner of my eye. I swiftly turned my head to look, but as soon as I did it had disappeared again, whatever it was. I shrugged - it could've just been something in my eye. I put it in the back of my mind as I walked into the living room.

This was where we had the Christmas tree up, and my father had to fight with the cat over not knocking it down. Many an afternoon or Saturday morning was spent watching cartoons with my siblings, and at nights I'd watch primetime sitcoms with my mom or football with my dad. Looking at it now, it seemed almost dismal. The walls were bare, but the paint and floors alone brought back a wave of memories for me.

A soft thud came from somewhere in the house. I looked around, wondering if it was up in the attic or down in the basement. A sense of uneasiness came over me now, but I did my best to ignore it and headed to what was my room.

I stepped into the doorway of my childhood bedroom. I still remember where exactly the bed was, where my baseball trophies and karate belts were, and the record player I religiously listened to when it rained or when I was grounded for whatever reason. I can remember my mom letting the cat into the room to wake me up for school, something which still makes me laugh to this day. I sighed, wishing I could bring back those days.

I turned to leave, only to encounter something so horrific that I stumbled backwards with a yell.

There before me was a spirit. She had curly dark hair, dressed in a white gown, but had soulless black holes where her eyes should've been. She said nothing, but stared me down as if to attack at any moment. I backed into the room, wishing I had something to defend myself with, but it would've been fruitless anyway considering what I was up against. My heart pounded against my chest, my palms and forehead drenched in sweat. My breath came out jagged, softly whimpering as I pressed myself flat against the wall.

I stared at the ghost as she approached me. Her face now had a surprisingly soft smile, but I couldn't even look at her eyes without a surge of adrenaline coursing through my veins. As she stopped before me, I was hit with a sudden realization. I gathered my will to speak, but only one word left my mouth.

"...Mother?"