The House of the Early Departed

The air in the mansion was heavy and soiled from not moving, no different from the thickness and stillness of the heavy ornate curtains that lined the parlor windows, blocking out all external air and light. The inhabitants barely brought a stir as they moved about, and the shadowy casts of faint light created giants in places where there were none. The pale faded wallpaper was torn away and stained, but over time these things seemed less like a sign of death and age, and more like a testament to lives lived.

The rooms that filled the house felt endless, as they were constantly wandered in and out of, investigated, abandoned, discovered again, and never changing. Outside the roof was missing singles, the boards of the exterior were rotten, the weeds long and unruly, and the long stone chimney always emitted a slow, almost indiscernible stream of smoke. But as the drapes were always pulled shut and secured, no consideration was ever wasted on the dilapidated and unfortunate appearance of the house from the outside.

The decrepit mansion, to those who lived in the town near it, screamed of some terrible past, some forgotten and indescribable event that would forever darken its doorways. Those dumb enough, and often young enough, to venture to the external garden walls of the death house never found the bravery to venture inside. While the town residents had speculated over the years about the mansion, none could claim to know what had befallen it. Those who wished to know the truth would often find themselves consumed with its mysteries, but most considered it a past better off forgotten. 

In the house of the early departed, however, no one ever spoke of the past. The topic was moot, and in all honestly, a fine mixture of boring and depressing. The strange version of life that existed within its halls was far more intriguing, and often more inspiring.

Right now, Cecilia and Raoul were playing a game of hide and seek, carefully, and quite luckily due to lack of breath, not making a sound as little Joon went in search of them. After counting to a thousand, Joon was exhausted with being patient and barreled down from the front entryway to the parlor room doorway. He stopped in a sudden surge of anticipation just outside the doorframe, leaning forward ever so slightly to peer in towards the old dust covered grand piano. His innocent face melted away as an impish grin took hold and he chose his target.

Standing up straight and shoving his hands in his front pockets, Joon strolled into the room lazily. Pausing for a moment, he then skited to the left, over the piano and landed feet first in the pot of a dead tree, disappearing.

“Owwww! Stop it!” came the shots of Celica, who rolled out of the pot with Joon clambered onto her back, simultaneously attempting to grab onto her hair and watching his own hands pass through. He chuckled and let out a small grunt of frustration as his foot slipped down through to her thigh. Cecilia, angered to the bone, rolled again across the floor, managing to send Joon flying through the piano and freeing her blond braids from his partial grasp.

She quickly stood, hands on her small hips and seethed at him, “You’re not supposed to try and grab people, JOON! When you find someone, you’re supposed to say boo!”

Joon lifted his head up and looked at her from the flat of his back before chuckling again, amused by her Mom-like antics, not the least bit put off by her mood.

“You know that’s no fun,” he said casually.

“But otherwise, it hurts!” she shrieked, herself entirely unamused, “This is why I never want to play with you.”

“But everyone else is so boring! No one ever wants to play this game.”

“No one ever wants to play with YOU!” she snarled and turned on her heel, hands still on her hips, marching through the open doorway behind her.

Joon watched after her for a moment and then dropped his head back to the floor, resigning with a rattling sigh. “Girls,” he said simply.

Raoul poked his head up out of the drawer to the study desk on the other side of the room, his brown tussled hair disheveled from his own excitement. “Does this mean I won?” he asked excitedly.

Joon turned his head to the side and made eye-contact with Raoul before answering, “Yeah, you won Raoul.”

A beaming smile spread across Raoul’s face as he burst from the study desk in a giant leap, coming to a land in a seated crouch next to Joon.

“Really? I never win at any games! Thanks for letting me play with you,” he added with such sincerity, Joon couldn’t help but smile a less impish grin in response.

“Let’s go play something else then,” Joon said, bounding upright and instinctively running his hands over his wrinkle free clothes. “Let’s go climb some trees in the garden.”

The smile instantly vanished from Raoul’s face as he stood up nervously, rocking slightly on his heels. “We’re not supposed to play in the garden during the day. What if someone hears us?”

Joon shook his head honestly. “It’ll be ok,” he said, “The trees in the middle by the pond are far away from the wall. And any sounds people will just think is the wind.”

Raoul looked up a Joon, his big hazel eyes still unsure and worried.

Joon swung his hand in a patting motion near Raoul’s shoulder, reassuring him with another honest smile. “Don’t worry, I play there all the time and you can even see past the old farmlands to the town buildings. I like to go up there and people watch sometimes.”

Raoul wrung his hands slightly, rocking forward once more to stand still.

“Ok,” he said after a moment, “Let’s go look. It might be cool to see some people.”

Joon smiled and jerked his head towards the doorway to the back entryway. Then he turned and flinted out of the room with Raoul close behind.

Yvette was sitting at the long, sandalwood table resting along the edge of the kitchen, nestled beneath the odd, perplexing painting of the dancing oxen that nobody liked. She was carefully instructing young Marcus and Addy in their numbers, using the touch-worn set of colored pebbles. They were just beginning to master counting without skipping and growing to incorporate colors into their strategies.

“Very good Addy. Five blue stones and three green ones. How many red ones do you see?” She asked kindly, gesturing to the small set of stones placed in front of the young girl.

Addy tilted her head to the right, unconsciously twirling her own auburn hair with her fingers. She mouthed the numbers as she struggled to not count on her fingers. Once, twice, thrice she twirled her hair mouthing seven, eight, nine.

“Nine!” she exclaimed in pure excitement, beaming at Yvette.

Yvette beamed in return, proud of the child for speaking with confidence, “That’s correct! Well done.”

Addy smiled even larger and sat up straighter, turning expectedly to her right at Marcus. Little Marcus, the youngest in the house, was still struggling with colors. Never having had the opportunity to learn them before coming, he still forgot some names at times. He furrowed his brow slightly and looked at his own pile, quietly examining his own stones. His eyes ran back and forth, considering both color and number, and hesitantly began with, “I see seven blue ones and six red ones.”

He looked up cautiously, nervous that he had made a mistake. Yvette calmed him with a warm smile, saying, “Very good Marcus! That’s correct!”

Marcus lifted his head up happily, more pleased that Yvette was so happy than by his own accomplishment. Yvette continued to smile at him and said, “Why don’t the two of you practice counting each other’s pebbles now?”

Addy nodded her head eagerly and without waiting for Marcus, slid his pebbles over to her and swiftly moved hers in front of him. “One, two, three,” she softly began to mouth. Marcus’s eyes lingered for a moment more on Yvette, who shared another encouraging smile, and then Marcus too shifted his eyes down to the stones and began his own exercise.

Yvette gently leaned back in her stiff, wooden chair. The texture and lack of comfort did not register to her, and she calmly began to gaze around the room, rediscovering its many idiosyncrasies. The wood paneling has long since become worn and factured, with flecks of discoloration and tragedy scattered about. The old clock ticked on endlessly, without moving hands, ensuring a faint monotony to the world of the house, and should any movement register with the aged floorboards, they too would have surely moaned. Still, she found charm in its slow decay, appreciating both its history and the endless protection it provided to her and the children.

Her eyes turned again to focus on the two that sat before her, giggling now as their studies had quickly devolved into a game of stone thieving. Well enough, she thought, children ought to play. As her eyes lingered on Marcus, his curly brown hair and soft features, the old pain she had endlessly tried to subdue began to stir up again in her chest, piercing her heart in such fierceness that she almost cried out. He reminded her so much of her dear Henrik, long gone now and waiting for her in the next life. While she was grateful for this opportunity to educate and care for the children who resided here with her, her desire to rejoin her own burned in her without ease. Mistakenly allowing her thoughts to linger too long, she quickly stood up and moved away to peer out the doorway to the garden. She froze in terror for a moment, a non-breath passing through her lips in shock, before bolting outside.

Joon and Raoul entered the garden and their game of climbing trees quickly derailed into a game of tag that took them far from the pond and too close to the back wall. After Raoul managed to skillfully duck Joon’s latest attempt to catch him, much to both of their surprise, Joon’s determination doubled and his increased speed cornered Raoul in the farthest spot from the mansion that either one had ever gone.

Raoul, realizing that he was about to be caught, and thoroughly intimidated by the predator like expression now spreading across Joon’s face, crouched down into a ball, eyes wide in anticipation of being caught. Joon savored his slow approach to the cowering Raoul, bending his knees slightly to spring onto his prey, when a sound drifted from beyond the wall that, perhaps for the first time in either of their existences, caused both boys to become paralyzed with fear.

“Oh, come on Johnny! Seriously do we have to really go all the way up to that creepy house? What exactly do you expect to find?” came the voice of a teenage girl, weary and nagging with unease.  Whoever Johnny was, he didn’t answer, but the sound of deliberate footsteps grew as the strangers approached the garden wall.

Raoul looked up at Joon, fear, concern, and a search for guidance in his eyes. Joon himself, unsure of what to do, remained frozen. As the footsteps became louder and more cautious, the fear that had consumed Joon slowly gave way to curiosity, the kind of curiosity children often display at the worst of times. Joon signaled to Raoul, who was still frozen, to remain silent and cautiously turned to scale the nearest tree behind him. Using his eerie stealth and soundlessness, Joon began his assent to a height that allowed him to just look over the wall at the approaching strangers.

The teenage girl, who was still whining more quietly now, begged the boy to stop his approach. Her long black hair windblown and disheveled from the physical effort it had taken them to hike up the steep hill to the death house. The teenage boy, however, did not display such signs of exasperation or discomfort, but kept his gaze firmly set on the garden wall, his grey eyes lost in some deep thought.

“JOHNNY!” the girl suddenly screeched and stopped in her tracks, hands on hips, much like Cecilia after the game. Her expression was fierce, her determination to be heard clear.

Johnny stopped at her shriek and turned to face her, irritated she had been so disruptive. “What?” he snarled.

The girl’s expression softened slightly, evidence that she cared for him, and she said calmly, “I don’t think this is a good idea.”

Johnny turned away again, dismissing her with a short retort. “I don’t care what you think Sam.”

But Sam wasn’t interested in giving up that easily and continued, voice soft and filled with concern. “I know you miss Michael, Johnny. And I know you miss him, but he’s dea-“

She bit back her words as Johnny whipped around again to face her. “I don’t care what you think,” he said again, emphasizing every word.

Sam remained silent for a moment and then finally asked, “Do you really think you can see him again? Here? At this place?”

Johnny’s tension dissipated a little, and his shoulders slumped as he answered honestly, “I don’t know.” He looked down at the ground, contemplating, before adding, “But I don’t care. I don’t care what you or anyone else thinks. I have to try.”

Sam looked at Johnny with an emotion Joon had never seen before, and after stealing a weary glance at the house, she sighed and said, “Ok. Do what you need to do. I’ll go wait by the car.” She started to turn away, before adding with a stern look. “Don’t do anything stupid though.”

A faint, wolfish grin spread across Johnny’s face, “I won’t,” he promised.

Sam retreated then back down the hill, as Johnny turned to face the garden wall again. Joon, from his perch, eyed him suspiciously, utterly confused by the exchange that had occurred between the two teenagers, yet fixated all the same. He felt a sharp tug on his foot and looked down to find Raoul urging him to descend, whispering urgently, “Let’s go back inside!”

Joon shook his head no and Raoul tugged his leg more firmly now, sending a shockwave of disorientation and electric pain through his body. “Stop!” growled Joon, kicking out at Raoul who instinctively let go and fled. But it was too late, the energy around him and the garden had shifted as the sound of his order had traveled over the wall to the unwanted visitor.

Joon spun his head around to look back over the wall and found himself looking straight into Johnny’s eyes. Struck by the sudden sound of a young boy, Johnny had lurched himself up to grab the top of the wall, his gaze now level with Joon.

Both boys looked at each other in dead confusion and bewilderment. Unable to speak or move, each found themselves falling into a well of realization that sent both their minds spinning. Who was alive and who was dead. Who was dead and who was alive? Life and death in an instant becoming acutely, unforgivably aware of each other. Johnny suddenly understood in his core that he was alive and his brother, like the boy before him, was dead. Joon understood that he was dead and the stranger before him was alive. This awareness overwhelmed their senses, everything both vibrating and numb.

A tear rolled down Johnny’s cheek, and then another. As he stared into Joon’s eyes, the tear became ceaseless, with the acceptance and the sadness that his little brother was truly gone. Joon watched the tears fall and a flash of a woman he used to know passed through his mind, and he felt hollow and sad.

A cracking sound and the cawing of crows erupted from the left, breaking the trance, and bringing both boys back to the garden. Johnny, his skin crawling with the haunting sounds, dropped swiftly from the wall and took off running down the hill.

Joon looked toward the sound and found Yvette running toward him, panic-stricken. “Joon, get down now!” she called.

Joon immediately dropped to the ground and stood still as Yvette grabbed his shoulders. “What were you thinking?” she demanded, “Do you have any idea how dangerous that was?”

Joon found that he couldn’t answer and stared vacantly at the ground. Yvette studied his expression, and guessing what had happened, hugged him tightly. No pain or disorientation passed through his body, allowed in this second life the grace of a mother’s embrace. He stood still a moment longer, before bringing them up to hug Yvette in return. A sound, unlike any he had made before, escaped his lips as he began to cry tearless sobs.

They stood embracing for several unmeasurable moments as Joon tried to empty his heart of all his sadness. Separating, Joon looked up at Yvette and for the second time that day, found himself starting into another’s eyes. Except this time, the warmth and compassion he found there filled his heat not with loneliness and loss, but with unbridled love.

Joon looked beyond Yvette to the house and found that all the other children had come outside as well. Some standing in garden, some still in the doorway, they all watched him with anxious expressions, waiting to know what it all meant. Joon smiled at them and then back up at Yvette, who simply said, “Let’s go back inside.”

Joon nodded and walked side-by-side with her towards the house. As they approached, the other children passed with them through the doorway. Once inside, the air of the garden settled, time continued to pass without notice, and the quiet, undisturbed world of their mansion became as it was before.