The Shades of the House

The old Montes house, situated on the town’s main street, looked quite pleasant during the day, in spite of years that had passed of total abandonment. The home was constructed by some long ago ancestor of the Montes family, which was noted by the red mansard roof, the grand chimney, and the high tower of the attic. The house was painted a white brick that somehow still looked clean in the light. The inside of the home was bare, except for a red velvet rug in the vestment, the cream curtains on every window, and a grand piano in the parlor room. The piano itself still looked glossy and new - as new as it did the day it arrived at the home - and it shined as if one of the Montes still had it cared for. The large yard of the home had a mighty beech tree that was as old as the house itself. The grass, though still green and healthy, was wild and unkempt. There were shrubs and bushes by the lower windows of the house, and a small garden that had nothing now but long ago faded and withered plants. 

In the sunlight one might look at the house and feel a bit of sadness for it. It looked like it longed for an occupant. One could see the clean brick, the wide, empty space, the natural warm sunlight that came in through all the windows, and feel as if the house was inviting you to come inside. The small round gate was perpetually open, as if it was indefinitely waiting for a new master to come home. 

However, in the dark the house told a different tale. After sunset the house seemed to take on a transformation, as if it was a nocturnal beast awakening for the night. The curtains would cast erratic shades inside the house in the moonlight, due to the peculiar rips they had that you could not detect in the still of the day. At night the house would creak and moan like a wounded animal. The limbs of the beech tree would sway in the winds, appearing almost like sharp claws and approaching hands. The gate, always a gracious host in the day, would repeatedly open and shut itself, with a constant angry thrusting. In the dark light the broken fence that surrounded the gate looked like fangs and broken teeth. 

At night it was easy to see why the house had gone unoccupied for so long. The townspeople knew of the house’s facade and said that it was cursed. Everyone knew of the tragic history of the late grand Montes’, and they said that the house contained the spirit of the final member of the once great family. It was said that Isabella Montes - the youngest daughter - roamed the house and kept it clean. She was the one who kept the curtains still during the day, and kept the piano looking just as it did on the day her father gifted it to her. It was also rumored that if you got too close to the house, you could hear her banging on the piano. 

In her time, Isabella Montes was a noted beauty and a refined musician. She was a wonderful singer and a talented pianist. Now in death she merely hits the keys to ward off anyone who dared come near the home. The rumor was that she was angry and waiting for justice. You see, the young Miss Montes had suffered a tragic fate. The rumor was that she fell in love with a young man. Her father didn’t approve so they planned to elope in secret. But on the night they were meant to run away, her young man betrayed her and poisoned her. Now her ghost wanders in resentment, daring anyone to come near so that she can give them the same fate she suffered. 

Now, Vincent Fuentes did not know any of this when he arrived in town that fateful morning looking for a new home. He had stepped out of his car, saw the mansard room, the beautiful tower, the tall chimney and fell in love. He looked around at the wild grass, the shabby plants, and the unruly shrubs and saw nothing but potential. He knew that all this house needed was someone to give it tender loving care.

 So he decided then and there to get the home. He refused to heed the warnings he received about the house’s dark past. Why on earth would he believe in ghosts? The morning he came to move in, he was so thrilled, and the house looked so pleasant, he was sure that he would make it his home for life. He glanced up at the tower, and smiled as he brought his boxes inside, never noticing that the curtains in the tower seemed to dance. Nor did he notice the figure of a woman behind the curtains, glaring at him, hiding behind the shades of the house. 

Vincent brought in boxes with essential items; plates and cups, toiletries, some clothes and placed them at the side of the door. He basked in the natural light, and was so taken with the wood floors and the dark staircase, that he decided to have a proper look around his new home. The house had the master bedroom, two rooms upstairs, another two rooms downstairs, and an attic. When Vincent had first looked at the home he was concerned about what he would use all the extra space for. It was only him after all, but well, he could have an office, a guest room or two, and he could always use a room to practice violin. And as for whatever rooms remained, there was always the possibility of him starting a family. 

He bounded up the stairs and went straight up to the attic. It was the darkest, dirtiest room of the house, but somehow it had become a particular favorite of his already. He pulled aside the curtains and looked out of the tower. He envisioned himself in the mornings coming up here with a cup of coffee, looking out at the beech tree and at the people walking past. Maybe he’d get a dog or cat to spend time with up here, or to watch them play in the yard. He didn’t know what he would use this room for, but it was too nice to only be used for storage. 

He was thinking of making it into a study or library when he noticed a large trunk he hadn’t seen before. Curiosity got the better of him and he opened it up. It smelled of mothballs and Vincent pulled out an old Edwardian looking wedding dress. As he took out the dress a silver locket fell out. He inspected the locket and saw it was a miniature photograph of a young woman. She had large, expressive eyes, her big, curly hair was pulled at the nape, and she had a serene look on her face.

Pretty, Vincent thought to himself, a real beaut. 

He pulled the picture out of the case and saw in delicate handwriting For my beloved Nicky, so that I can be close to you until the day we never have to part. Yours forever, Isabella. 

Isabella, he thought to himself, so this must be the woman who’s said to haunt the house. Well, I think you’re too pretty to haunt anything, Vincent said aloud to no one, So is it true, Isabella? Are you here haunting the place?

He was looking at the picture again when he suddenly heard a loud thrashing of keys at the piano. He shoved the locket into his pockets and raced down the stairs. He saw that the piano was just as it had always been. He shrugged, but staring at the piano he couldn’t stop himself. Vincent sat down on the bench and began playing the few songs he knew. He loved the acoustics of the parlor and it gave him an idea. He dashed out to his car and from the trunk took out his violin.

 He tuned it and started playing. The sounds of his violin went through the entire house and he grinned at how well the sound came through. He turned away from the piano, walked around the parlor, and suddenly heard the keys thrash again. Startled, he jumped, looked at the piano, but only noticed that the cover had fallen. He relaxed, and considered there must be something wrong with it. Vincent went on playing for a while. As he played he heard creaking from around the house, particularly, from the staircase, as if someone was walking down them. But he chalked it up to the age of the house. Surely, an old house would make lots of creaks and moans. 

He put the violin in the master bedroom when he was done playing and when he came back downstairs he noticed a woman standing in the vestibule by the front door. 

“Excuse me,” he said, wondering if he’d left the front door open, “May I help you?”

The woman turned, and was struck by how familiar she looked, but he couldn't place where he’d seen her. 

He walked towards her, but she did not say anything or move. She only glared at him, with such a look of vehemence in her eyes it took him aback.

“May I help you?” Vincent repeated again.

“I’ve waited a long time for this, Nico,” the woman said in a low, menacing voice, “A long time.”

“Excuse me,” Vincent said, glancing at the door and seeing it was closed, “I think you’re mistaking me for someone else.”

“Don’t insult me,” she spat, “You can’t hide from me. Not anymore. How dare you come back here!”

“Lady, I don’t know who you’re -”

Without being able to finish his sentence, she flew at him, and tried choking him, but her hands evaporated through him. 

They were both startled at this, and she looked at her hands, which now seemed gray and sickly to Vincent, “No,” she yelled, “No! No! No! I was supposed to kill you!” 

She let out a loud, frustrated, blood curdling scream and Vincent took this opportunity to race upstairs and lock himself in the master bedroom. He tried calling the cops, but before he could even dial she appeared in the room. 

“You ruined my life,” she screamed at Vincent, “Get out! Get out of my house!”

Vincent backed himself into a wall, crouching down on the floor. As he did the silver locket fell out. He looked at the picture, and saw that the woman standing in front of him was none other than the woman from the picture. Isabella Montes was standing in front of him. 

So, he thought to himself, the rumors were true. 

She was continuing to yell and scream at him, ordering him to leave the house. She didn’t seem to pay him attention though. It seemed to him that she was only letting out all her frustration and lamentation. He was able to duck past her and run to his car. 

He sat at the wheel, trying to compose himself, looking at the miniature photo and confirming that it was indeed Isabella he was seeing. He could still hear her yelling and cursing inside screaming the same name over and over. Nico. Perhaps all the story was true. Had she really been murdered by the man she was going to run away with? Whatever the case, it was too much for Vincent. He drove away quickly, realizing that the home he’d bought was going to be a lot more than he bargained for.