My current mum stands before me, a look of indignity and humiliation surfacing on her face as she reveals our new home to us. In the dreadfully old dwelling, a dust ridden foyer is the first to greet us through the heavy, rotting and incredibly imposing oak front door. There isn’t a single light on yet but the rays of sunshine coming through the disheveled wooden slats that obscure the windows and the daylight spilling in through the open doorway illuminate how neglected this house has become. It has been left alone, with the life force sucked from it and left to decompose over time.
I understand the look Vera has; she’s only been my mother for a short time in comparison, but in that time she has only ever wanted the best for me and my new brother and always tries to get it, even at her detriment but what I see instead is true potential. We have been given this vast, antique house with so much history and space, not to mention a list of incredible possibilities. We’ve been given a wonderful opportunity and we will make it work to the best of our abilities and get it back to its original glory that it must once have been. I don’t understand how I can still be so positive on my 5th home.
After she has shown us the newly refurbished kitchen, the only new modern aspect of this whole house, and we’ve all had supper, it’s time to turn in; it’s been such a long, exhausting day that what we need is a good night’s sleep. Blake and I head upstairs to find our bedrooms, some of the least dangerous rooms, finding them just down the hall from one another and say our good nights. I hold my discoloured brass door handle, feeling the unexpected shock of the icy cold metal in the warm palm of my hand; I turn the knob and push open my door with a frighteningly stretched out “creeeeaak”, followed by a jolting thud and clang! My heart, close to exploding, leaps into my throat and I feel my pulse fast and strong in my neck and ears, making my mouth salivate through the fright. The door handle from the other side has fallen off and both sides of the door knob fall apart completely, landing with thuds and clangs on the hard-wooden floor boards of my bedroom floor sending dust wisps into the air. Eeeekk BUGGER! Jeez I’ll have to fix that later too.
Aside from the corrosion, grime and revolting fabric, the room is delightful. There resides a grand, deeply rich-coloured, wooden double four-poster bed with a draping canopy that houses cobwebs seemingly as old as the house; a tall dark oak double wardrobe along one wall; and a modest wooden dresser that matches the wardrobe with an elegant mirror atop it placed along another wall. At the far end of the bedroom, a considerable bay sash window with rustic bench seat below it, looking out over the back garden and into the fields beyond. I ready myself for an especially needed rest, but I just can’t fall asleep; there has been too much that has happened today, too many different emotions and dizzying thoughts swirling around my head, so I just sit and think on the bench in the alcove of the bay window, instead. I look out over the long, jungle-like garden and admire the way the full moon glistens off the broken glass and metal segments that are still intact on the ramshackle garden shed; with the mysterious looking shadowy fields beyond. Then the recognition hits me like a cold splash of water to the face, I’ve seen this before; this scene that has unfolded before me is what I have been having dreams about for the past couple of months and now it’s right here in front of my very eyes. Some unknown force and pure curiosity itself push me to put on shoes and move out into the garden to investigate.
The night air outside is fresh, with a sharp crisp to it, the glowing light of the moon guiding the way down the narrow stone path to the bottom of the garden where the forsaken garden shed dwells. I manage to make it to the shed with no hiccups or incidents, unlike most other times throughout every day. The shed itself is only half still here in this life, propped up with a few branches and sheer luck. The door, barely hanging on, suspended at an angle by vines; the roof consists solely of three decayed wooden beams and a piece of corrugated metal and there is scattered glass over the ground from the window that used to exist on one side of the shed. I step inside with my feet making pops as I crunch over glass and little stones to make my way to the centre of the shed. Suddenly, the inevitable happens and I abruptly tumble towards the ground. Ooowww. I feel a sharp burning sensation coming from my knee, and I glance down to see a small slice on my knee gape open and start to fill with blood. I glare towards my foot to see the menace that took me down; but it turns out to only be my own foot, typical.
A warming breath slides along my neck and I turn around to see a large sooty stone slab in the centre of the shed, that develops a red glow snaking around the under edge of the stone. I brush myself off and pick up an old rusty metal shovel leaned against the side; as I grab the thick wooden handle, sharp splinters prick into my skin. I lift the shovel to move the stone slab and as I pry it from the ground, there is a loud hiss of air escaping and the force of the air pushes me backwards onto the floor, where I smack my head on the ground and everything falls into darkness.
This was 10 years ago, and a lot has happened and changed since then.