Lyvia my Love

The place itself wasn’t particularly bone-chilling, in fact, it just looked like any other 19th century Gothic Manor, but just thinking of its contents made me shiver. The house emitted a musty odor that could be smelled even from where I was standing, making it seem ever more terrifying and ominous. I don’t believe I’ve ever seen a house this torn and tattered before, which only made it seem even more mysterious and ancient. It seemed to grin an eerie, sinister grin that became even more menacing as I continued to stare at it. It almost felt as if it were watching me, waiting for the right moment to strike. As I turned to face the forest beyond it, the house smiled at me one last time, and a cold hand gripped my shoulder tightly.

          I jumped up, frightened, alarmed and overall just terrified I was going to be abducted when I heard a boy-ish laugh from behind me.

        “You should’ve seen your face!” he cackled, bent over and laughing like a hysteric hyena. In truth, I had no idea who this person was, so the idea of him laughing at me seemed unfit for the situation.

        “What the heck!” I sputtered, annoyed and still a bit frightened, “Why in the world would you scare me like that? I don’t even know you!”

        “Oh yeah,” he said, grinning, “I’m Benjamin. See? Now we know each other!”

        I rolled my eyes, but a smile was creeping up my face as I said “Well, Mr. Benjamin, I’m afraid we still technically don’t ‘know’ each other because you do not know my name.” 

        He sighed in vanquish, shaking his head “I suppose you’ve got me there,” he murmured, but grinned as he continued, “so what do I have to do to earn the rights to know your name?”

        Truth be told, I was just going to tell him my name, but his question sparked an idea in my mind. “Well,” I said, announcing each word with a bit of a flair, like I’d seen black-mailers do on television, swinging the last syllable of each word up, “I suppose you could retrieve something of my erm- great-grandmother’s from that house over there.” I finished, gesturing to the house with my thumb. I definitely didn’t want to go in there, not alone at least. To many terrible memories that I couldn’t relive.

☆☆☆

         As we walked down the overgrown brush of the hill, Benjamin stumbled a bit. I could tell he was nervous, and honestly, I don’t blame him. Certainly going into an old, rotting house from the 19th century wasn’t something that he would want to do on a Saturday, or any day of the week for that matter. As we neared the former accommodation, I noticed that the ebony paint on the house was peeling, showing the old, rotting wood underneath its peaceful brilliance. Stones had fallen off the structure, giving it a bit of a polka-dot pattern. Many of the windows were broken, showing the dusty, ancient innards of the previously comfy abode. I’m surprised there wasn’t a “Condemned” sign on the house, it was so treacherous-looking.

        “I think we’re crazy.” Benjamin commented, shaking his head, “Going into this place is a death wish.”.

        “Maybe you’re right,” I answered, “But my Great-Grandma recently passed away, so I’d like to bring something to my Grandma to remind her of her mom.”

          “Understandable,” he commented, “but wouldn’t that make your grandma more grief-stricken? And someone surely moved into that wreck after your great-grandma moved out. What if there is nothing left of hers?”

        “I’m going to get something for her, and though people moved in after her, she had some stuff hidden in the floorboards, old china cups and candles and such. I know there is. And it’s not a wreck, it’s charming!”

        “If you say so. Then you’ll tell me your name?” he asked, tilting his head slightly to the side.

        “Yeah.” I promised solemnly, gently kicking a dandelion with the toe of my black flats, watching the little white wisps float off, caught by the breeze and carried away. 

       “I hope I don’t regret this,” Benjamin muttered, jogging down the rest of the hill, Hardly audible, he added, “If I die in there, I’m going to haunt you as a ghost for the rest of your life!”

“Hah, sure!” I replied, chasing after him.

☆☆☆

        The closer we neared the house, the more self-evident it was that the place was completely falling apart. Most of the windows had fallen in due to weathering, allowing strange purple mold to grow up the side of the frame. Lots of shingles from the roof had fallen off, creating little black squares in the overgrown yard. Rats scurried around, crawling into the house through nooks and crannies. The porch wood was rotted, and some of the boards had broken to show the crawl space underneath. All in all, it looked like something out of a movie, those kidnapping ones where they take a kid to an abandoned house in the country and hide them there until they get the ransom. 

        “Oh my word,” Benjamin breathed, as if the air had been knocked out of him momentarily, “How am I supposed to go into there and not get sick from all the mold?”

        “Here!” I said, handing him my scarf, the old and floral kind that used to be popular but now only older people wore them, “Put this around your nose and mouth.”

        “You'd better have a great name.” he mumbled, tying the scarf around his neck and pulling it up over his nose and mouth.

       “You’re welcome.”

        Grinning through his makeshift mask, he pushed open the corroded door and took a step inside.

☆☆☆

        You could hear Ben walking around, hear the boards creak from underneath him. Each step he took was gentle and slow, almost as if he were full of feathers instead of organs. After waiting for a bit, Benjamin emerged from the rubble of a house, triumphantly holding a piece of worn checkered cloth wrapped around some unidentifiable object.

        “What’s in the cloth?” I asked, grinning and gleeful, as if I was still just a child.

        “Tell me your name first.” he protested, pulling the “mask” off his face to reveal a giddy grin.

       “Fine.” I muttered, shaking my head in defeat, “Just please don’t laugh or think it’s weird, alright?”

       “I promise.” he grinned, holding up his hand to show the scout’s honor symbol.

       “Alright then, it’s Lyvia Caelum.” I muttered, pushing my hair out of my eyes in embarrassment. “It’s latin.”

        I expected him to suppress a laugh or a snort, but instead he just looked almost jealous. “Man, you’re lucky,” he commented, smiling broadly, “my middle name is Otis!”

        Holding back my laughter, I grinned a goofy grin, the kind where you only smile on one side of your face. “Ok, now give me the goods!”

         Benjamin placed the make-do bag on the grass, which was unusually green considering it hadn’t rained in quite a while. Carefully pulling back each corner, he opened up the “bag” to reveal its contents. A small china cup with intricate pink roses painted onto it, worn and slightly cracked. A few buttons. A piece of pale blue calico with yellow and purple wildflowers emblemed onto it. An old leather book with the initials LCM monogrammed onto the center. Best of all, a stack of letters held together with a bright red ribbon.

       “I accidentally broke a floorboard,” Benjamin explained, scratching the back of his neck, “these things were underneath it. Sorry I couldn’t get you anything bigger, but that place gives me the creeps.”

        “It’s perfect.” I said, hugging the treasures to my chest.

        “It is?”

       “ It’s just what I need. Thank you, Benjamin. It’s perfect.” I repeated my voice sincerely, stroking the journal that was finally mine again, setting down the letters addressed to Lyvia my Love, weathered from time but the intricate cursive still as piercing as when it was originally addressed.

       “You’re welcome, Lyvia.”