Soul-searching

There you are. I knew there was a Housekeeper in here, but you hid yourself so well I couldn't find you. What you doing in there?

Sitting.

I can see that, and that wasn't the question. You know the place is empty, right?

I do.

So why aren't you out here?

I…I like it here.

What? This part of the attic the location of a missing head from a gruesome murder a hundred years ago?

This house isn't that old. There’s only been one family.

Why don't you come out then?

Well?

This is my space.

Was. Not anymore. The world is your oyster. The sky is the limit, and all those things they say. Come out. Come on.

Are you a Traveler?

Uh-huh. I was in the area, and this house had a feel to it. I could tell you were in here somewhere. Are you really not coming out? The world is your lobster, you know. There is—

Fine.

Woo! Show me around!

This is the attic.

I can see that. What about—

It’s my favorite.

Really? I don’t know. The ceiling’s too close. I prefer open spaces.

It’s the only room in this house with a wooden floor.

It creaks too much, wood. It makes you think it's still alive even when there's nothing there.

I like the creaks and squeaks, the cracking and popping. I like the dull thud it makes when I push down like this.

And when I run—

Doesn’t it sound like a drum beating in the distance?

You didn’t run around like that while there were people in, right?

Of course not. Only when the family was out.

Only then, huh?

…I got caught a few times.

Knew it.

Careless mistake, and you know that feeling you get when you just want to not hide and be out and roam?

I’m a Traveler. Roaming is what I do.

I felt that way from time to time, and there were moments when I came out and moved around even when I shouldn’t have.

So they got scared and left.

No. The family knew we were here. They knew even back when this house was nothing but a concrete block on the ground and towers of steel rods. They knew when they moved in. They knew the corners where we hid and the uninhabited spaces we occupied, and they let us be.

They could see you?

Not really, no. They heard us now and again when we got…excited

Mhmm. One time I was at a graveyard, minding my own business, when an overzealous group went by overhead, making me visible and surprising the poor old caretaker who ran as far away as he could. Even called me a ghost!

We were very careful to keep out of sight and earshot, especially because the family knew to use sharp steel when we got too close or were staring too much.

Huh. That’s rare even up here on the mountains. How many of you were here?

Five. There’s also one in the guava tree out back, by the guest room, but it likes to be alone and it’s a bit odd. It’s never come in, but every time there were guests, it would stand by the window and look in, watching, from dusk to daybreak and even beyond. It gave a lot of guests nightmares.

The family didn’t do anything about it?

They ignored it like they ignored us, but I don’t think they understood that we were different. We were in here, but it was out there. We watched the house, but it watched the tree.

As long as it didn’t cause them trouble, I guess.

It did, at the beginning. It would speak loud enough to wake the eldest daughter in the middle of the night. It gave her a lot of nightmares, too.

And they just let it be?

Yes, but Upper Hallway scared it off, and it’s never gone up to the second floor since.

Upper Hallway?

We called ourselves by the space we inhabited. I was Rafters and Upper Hallway was Upper Hallway. It was over here, just down these stairs and to the left.

Here? It’s just a door, another door, and a shelf stuck to a wall. You should’ve called her Dead-end. Where’d it Root?

Up there.

On the ceiling?!

We told it many times to move, but it said there was something about the eldest daughter that drew it in. We understood; we all felt it, but the family could tell it was here. At night the middle daughter would rush past to the attic where she slept. In the daytime, all the children would avert their eyes, as if not looking made Upper Hallway’s presence a bit less…intimidating.

One of the powerful ones then.

Yes, which is why the Guava Tree stayed away, even now that it’s gone.

What happened?

When the family moved out, it decided it would go try to find the eldest daughter, but I don’t know if it ever will. You know how it is.

We do not tell the wind where to take us.

We only go where it blows.

And the others?

Lower Hallway and Basement decided to go looking for the family as well, and the one we called Traveler—it didn’t Root anywhere and liked to roam around the house—didn’t say anything when it left except that it wasn’t fun here anymore.

And you?

She comes to visit sometimes.

Who?

The mother.

Huh. Why would she visit an empty…

She’s dead.

It happened somewhere else, but we found out when she first came back to visit. Perhaps the family blamed the house for the sickness that grew quietly inside her. Perhaps the rooms that once held laughter and light suddenly become too dark and stuffy. Whatever the reason was, the family left soon after and sold the house.

Why don’t you leave?

I…I liked it here. I liked the days when laughter filled the house with so much brightness my ears went blind. I liked the nights that were so quiet I could hear the flight of owls beyond the walls. I liked that even though the family never really truly understood us, they let us in and they let us stay. So until the next family moves in, I want to at least be here to welcome her if she ever comes back.

So you’ll keep waiting.

Yes.

I guess this house isn’t so empty after all.

No, not while there’s someone who calls it home.