The House

As soon as she walked through the front doors of the main house, Elisa hated it. Loved the property itself, a large and densely forested private estate with beautiful gardens. Set within a state wildlife preservation park and spanning over thirty-two acres, it was set just off the state highway with easy access to the nearby town.

 With imposing wrought iron gates just off the main road, the driveway itself was well hidden by a bordering thick brush, leading down to a second wooden gate and through a sturdy bridge built over a cascading river, straight up to the majestic wide granite stairs, at the top of which were the beautifully carved front doors of the main house. The driveway continued to the left, passing by two smaller houses on the way before ending in front of a third wooden gate, behind which a small and carefully manicured lawn could be seen. A glimpse of a pretty yellow cottage announced yet another residence was coyly hidden. 

The surroundings were stunning, the forest beyond the house vibrant and teeming with native wildlife, threaded by meandering man-made trails. The river was set within a deep chasm dividing the property. Although rocky and with many rapids, it was easily reached through a small trail to the side of the big main house and offered deep pools for swimming. Sprawling lawns and a huge swimming pool guaranteed good times in summer, while the three smaller houses on the estate could be refurbished and used for guests. An ideal setting for a couple looking to buy seclusion, natural beauty and easy access to urban areas, and maybe, provide them with a decent income in the future.

But the main house, a mansion really, now that was a whole different ballgame! Elisa walked inside after touring the grounds and felt her heart sink. A sprawling, two-story solid brick structure. Dark, musty and filled with damp bedrooms, six of them with ensuite baths plus two separate full bathrooms, it had narrow corridors leading every which way. Two large living rooms divided by a massive outdated kitchen, an outside deck overlooking the back lawn and leading out to another three bedrooms completed the set up. To her it was just plain ugly.

“No, we won’t be buying this!”, she told the real estate agent.

“It’s perfect”, said her husband, clearly enchanted with the property. “We can remodel and relax here, receive guests and maybe make some money in the future, which would offset the upkeep costs. The dogs will have a field day here and you will enjoy the privacy. It’s close to my work, and we have no neighbors. This is exactly what you said you wanted. This is it.”

Elisa did not want to say it, but she felt unwanted there and could not shake the feeling of animosity following her around while checking the inside. She was only comfortable when touring the smaller hidden cottage at the end of the driveway. That one she found quaint and comfortable, just the right size for the couple, with privacy guaranteed by a tall hedge dividing it from the rundown mansion. It had its own garden and gate, and from its porch she could not see or "feel" the mansion.

They left after telling the agent they would think about it. Elisa and her husband argued back and forth for two days, he determined to buy it, she desperately pointing out it was too big for them, they would need a lot of money to redo it, she was already 52 years old and would not be able to keep it clean and tidy…

“We have a maid already, so you will not be stuck with the housework” he countered. “I own a carpentry and construction company so it would not cost us a lot to modernize it” he continued, and then check-mated her with a very rational “If worst comes to worst, we can make a killing selling it after the remodel.”

On and on they argued until she finally agreed, on condition they move into the yellow cottage while work was done on the main house. Secretly she hoped her husband would fall in love with the small house and decide to rent out the big one.

Three weeks later, they bought and moved into the cottage, while work on the main building started. Elisa was kept busy overseeing the remodeling and working with the gardener on the grounds. The cats seemed delighted with their new home, and enjoyed the garden, sometimes venturing into the woods at the back. And although their dogs did love all the open space and free access to the dense forest and its trails, they kept close to her side whenever she went inside the mansion. They refused to go up to the second floor, however, even as they accompanied her everywhere during her inspections. The cats never came near the gate separating the two houses.

Four months passed, and much to Elisa’s disappointment they moved into the newly refurbished main house. Two adjoining rooms on the downstairs floor had been converted into one big master bedroom, fully equipped with its own bathroom. This was Elisa’s choice, since the dogs refused to go upstairs where the previous master was located. She wanted her “guardians” with her, all seven of them! The cats chose to stay in the cottage, forcing Elisa to go back and forth several times a day to care for them. She left them outdoors during the day but made sure to shut them inside at night, afraid some wildlife would get at them.

A month after they moved into their new quarters, the maid quit. She never said a word, just went off one day never to come back. Elisa had been expecting this, as she had noticed the woman becoming increasingly unsettled in the house. Lights constantly flickering and burning out, the frequent “accidents” besetting Elisa, pictures falling off the walls… None of this helped, of course, but Elisa knows exactly why she left. It was a perfect spring morning with a clear blue sky, sunshine enhancing the vivid colors of gardens and birds flying around. They had decided to capture the scenery outside, taking pictures with their cellphones to show this earthly paradise to friends and family. When they reviewed the pictures, the first thing they saw was a fog enveloping the house, and only the house. The gardens showed beautifully well, the sun streaming between the trees, the colors bright and crystal clear. Not a cloud in the sky, not a shadow interfering with the focus. But whenever the house showed up, it was shrouded by a dense white fog. The woman freaked out and that was the day she left never to return.

From then on Elisa found herself alone most days, only her animals to keep her company. No housekeeper, husband gone all day and frequently spending nights in town due to his. Two of her dogs became extremely aggressive to anyone except the immediate family. After the two younger dogs mauled the gardener, a man they had known since puppies, word got around and the locals refused to work for the couple, afraid for their lives. Elisa was left to her own devises.

She tried so hard to upkeep the property. She closed off the two bedrooms on the second floor, as well as the three outside rooms, concentrating her cleaning efforts on the living rooms, kitchen, bedrooms and bathrooms located downstairs. She also cleaned out the “cat House” every day. It was a battle, a daily physical battle and she lost over twenty-two pounds in three months.

The accidents kept happening. An enormous jackfruit fell inches from her head as she walked under the tree branch, It was not ripe and was securely affixed to the tree; no wind was blowing and no animals were nibbling at it, but still it fell… She was saved from having her head smashed by the heavy fruit due to a sudden inexplicable urge to stop, which she unthinkingly obeyed. Although she got splattered by the exploding juices and pieces, she was unharmed. The next day, however, she ended up in hospital. While walking back from the cats, she collapsed on the driveway, right leg splayed out in front while the left one, knee twisted and sprained, was stuck behind her for whatever reason. She could not move, just scream in pain in hopes of being heard by someone, anyone. Eventually her husband arrived back from work and took her to the hospital.

A few days later, she felt a piercing jolt of electrical current course through her hand and arm as she turned on the hot water in the shower. Her husband checked the faucets and found nothing wrong. Deciding to be safe rather than sorry, she went to another bathroom. There, while showering, the overhead lights started blinking, flashing on and off at an increasingly rapid rhythm. She did not think it necessary to mention it to her husband, as he was already in bed by the time she finished. After another shock received by her while washing dishes, an engineer was called in to check the newly installed plumbing and electrical systems. He found nothing wrong, especially in the kitchen where no outlets had been placed close to faucets and explained that none of the wires inside the walls had been positioned anywhere near the water pipes in the house. Elisa just shrugged it off and told her husband that the house clearly wanted her gone. He thought her ridiculous.

In spite of all these accidents, she was never really afraid, even while remaining alert. Elisa never doubted that “something” wanted her out of there, however, and being a skeptic, she did not really believe in the supernatural. Even so, she was careful when going about her business, looking down before stepping on the lawn so as to avoid snakes, making sure to walk at a sedate pace wherever she went on the property, never going to the river alone... Testing the metal water faucets before using them, changing the light bulbs on a weekly basis as they constantly burned out, all the while having to keep up with the never-ending repair demands of the house kept her too busy to be scared. She did not scream when she nearly sat on the snake hidden under a cushion on the couch, even when it turned out to be poisonous. She gently picked it up with a garden broom and set it out in the forest. Neither did she panic when she fell down the granite staircase, but rather rolled down in such a way as to minimize the damage by keeping her body slack, a trick she learned in childhood. Apart from the painful bruises, nothing got broken.

But then she felt a subtle change in the atmosphere. It got heavier somehow, more hostile. She became wary.

First the birds started crashing against the windows and doors, breaking their necks. Toucans, green-headed tanagers, hummingbirds, thrushes of all kinds, ovenbirds and even an owl bashed themselves against the house, their bodies scattered on the back deck and around the house. Elisa would cry as she picked them off the floor, her heart as broken as their little necks by this massacre of so many beautiful innocent creatures. Then the two younger dogs became even more vicious, and fights erupted amongst the previously harmonious pack. Elisa tried to keep them in check, but they were just… well, dangerous. A fortune was spent on professional trainers, even sending the two youngsters off to canine boot camp, but nothing seemed to work. Money was running out, expenses mounting and she herself started getting frazzled.

The house itself started to dismantle, plaster falling from the ceiling in the upstairs bedrooms, pipes bursting and flooding the kitchen and bathrooms. The newly installed ceramic roof tiles in her mother’s house crashed to the floor like domino pieces slithering down in sequence, first one row then the other until the roof beams were left exposed. The polished concrete floor of the kitchen, made to order by a specialized company cracked in a spiderweb design and the three-inch thick, one hundred years old marble slab used as the island countertop split in half.

Elisa told her husband that for the first time she felt afraid. Not for herself, although she joked that the house wanted to kill her, but she was concerned about the safety of others. She felt able to cope somehow, but others might not. It seemed like the house realized it did not scare her but knew that she could be hurt through her loved ones, humans and animals.

Then violence hit her animals, three of them dying in the same day, the remaining ones failing in health.

This proved to be too much. A deep, black and cloying depression took over. Elisa tried to react, but the death of her pets proved unbearable, dragging her down into a pit of despair. She began to waste away, bones sharply etched under her now sagging skin, muscles disappearing. Sadness clothed her and hopelessness became normal.

She tried talking to her husband about the animosity she sensed, but he scoffed at her. She told him that serious harm could be inflicted on them and others. He said she was being fanciful and irrational as a result of the death of her pets.

“It’s just your imagination”, he stated, and continued with “you must focus on new interests. Go out more, enroll in an online course, do something!”

She could tell he was becoming impatient with her moodiness, so she kept quiet, hiding her tears from him, pretending things were normal.

A fortnight after the argument, a car flew off the highway bordering their property and fell down the deep chasm, crashing into the rocky river of their property. It happened late one Saturday night, and neither Elisa nor her husband, or any of her dogs for that matter, were aware of the accident at the time, the powerfully gushing waters of the river muffling all other sounds. They saw the crushed vehicle the next day, when driving over the bridge on their way out to lunch. Shocked, they climbed down the banks to the river, trying to reach the pile of metal to see if anyone was trapped inside. Unable to breach the river boulders and strong current they quickly decided he should drive into town to get help, while Elisa stayed at the front gates by the highway, ready to flag down a passing car. As chance would have it, a firetruck came by and she got them to radio the emergency units. Police and rescue teams appeared and began the search for victims or survivors. Men climbed the steep banks of the chasm and poked around the rocks in the water surrounding the car, before pronouncing no victims at the scene. They left after stating it must have been an act of disposal of a stolen vehicle, a common enough occurrence in the rural area. They would be returning in the morning with the proper equipment for the retrieval of the car.

The next day the couple was roused by screeching sirens. It was early morning and the retrieval unit team had rafted themselves down to the wreck. There, while hooking up the steel cables they finally found the body of the driver buried under the waters, trapped between the rocks and the passenger door. He had drowned, unable to get out of the river, his leg caught under the roof of the car. Elisa and her husband reeled from the shock of this information, picturing this man’s final moments in the freezing cold waters, trapped, broken and drowning while they slept peacefully unaware of the unthinkable horror unfolding nearby. Guilt set in. Sadness for the loss of a human life and the frustration of not having been able to help made them strangely quiet, neither of them voicing their thoughts.

When the body was lifted out of the river and laid by the side of their house for removal, they discovered this was no stranger. The dead man was the owner of a restaurant they frequented. They knew him as a friend.

Today, Elisa is utterly broken down. She drags herself through the days listlessly, feeling imprisoned by the house and realizes her spirit is slowly being destroyed. Smothered in permanent hostility and beset by frequent and malicious accidents, she is strangely indifferent. She no longer bothers with her appearance, often forgetting to brush her once shining hair, wearing whatever clothes she finds lying around, regardless of their cleanliness. Elisa finds no joy in the property and cannot muster the will to seek refuge outside of it, rarely going out except to buy necessities for herself and husband and the remaining pets. No guests come, their friends busy and unwilling to stay over. The smaller houses, fully furnished and kept spotlessly clean in hopes of receiving visitors stand empty, a constant reminder of the couple’s failed plans and expectations. Her mother never came back after spending a month there.

Her husband doesn’t recognize this apathetic ghost he once loved, her energy and intrinsic passion for life gone. He fears for her and tries his best to help anyway he can, but he is also affected, his business rapidly failing. The evil force seems to be, having reached the cats’ house, previously Elisa’s safe haven. It is now an uncomfortable place to be in, and the cats are nervous. She fears they will run away into the woods, fleeing from whatever energy settled in.

She is certain the house will stop at nothing to get rid of her. She just doesn’t know when it will kill her.