The House that Whispered

   It felt like a cauldron was brewing in my stomach from the nerves of walking into the creepy abandoned house that everyone had warned me about. I had no choice though, it was my only clue in finding my missing friend Carmelita.

  There had been stories circulating about the old house ever since I was a kid, but I swallowed the fearful thoughts and continued on.

  “Carmelita, you in there?” I shouted from the porch. 

 I turned the rusted door knob and peeked inside. “Hello?”

I could see bits of the end of the dark house from the sunlight peaking through. The walls and ceiling had large cracks and there was an overgrowth of weeds taking over like an infection.

   I reached for the dangling steel beaded pull chain and it miraculously turned on a light. “Hello? Someone in here?”

“Sit still, you mangy chucho! Or you’ll sell us out!” whispered a faint voice.

My eyes darted around the room and I watched a skinny and malnourished dog barking at a rusted kettle for coffee.

“Nobody’s here! Go away!” whispered someone from the other room.

“Shut up! You, mocoso!”

  I rushed to the living room with an antique TV inside. “Carmelita?”

Carmelita had been my best friend who had vanished after a big fight we had. It wasn’t like her to not return. Something had to have happened. After speaking to the neighbors, I tracked her last whereabouts nearby in the banana forest by this old ramshackle place. Carmelita was always the explorer, openly venturing into uncharted areas when she wanted to be alone. 

Another voice from the kitchen spoke. “My beloved, can we drop the act? I want to offer the poor thing a cup of brew." 

“Don’t you dare, I said!”

"Oh, but she looks so tired, have you seen her?”

      The secret was out. All the hairs on my arms and legs seemed to prick out of me like porcupine quills. I felt frozen at the sight while the ragged dog licked at my arm.

     In the living room, there were two inanimate objects with faces that should not have been talking. A colorful ceramic vase holding some dead blackened roses from within and a branch-woven Acapulco chair. I could make out the articulating face of an old woman in the vase formed by primary colors of acrylic paint. And the chair had also manifested expressions of a chubby child’s face smiling in its threading.

I had bumped into the kitchen walls from fear.

The flower vase looked as if it was holding in something foul to say towards the chair who had a glooming face tilted down. “I’m sorry, Tía. I have a big mouth, you know I do, and I can’t help it.”

“I’ll deal with you later, Óscar.” she turned to me with a furrowed brow. “My princess, please, no need to panic. We’re not mad at you. We know why you’re here. We just don’t think it’s particularly safe at this time.”

“We know where to find Carmelita.” blurted the chair sheepishly.

“I said shut up, Óscar!” yelled the vase.

“O’ don’t be so hard on the youngster.” The weathered voice of an old man spoke again, and this time it came from the kitchen. I walked over and found the rusted steel kettle moving by itself and it poured a fresh steaming cup of coffee in a mug for me. 

“Don’t be timid, little one. You look exhausted, please, I insist.”

Something about their voice had been calming to me. They started to remind me less of a group of possessed terrifying spirits and more like a familiar relative.

The kettle smiled at me while steam rose from its spout.

It had a friendly face formed into it, and a little rusted blemish in the middle that resembled a thick mustache.

I walked over and drank his coffee and he gave me an approving nod before turning his attention to the living room to call over the child. “Óscar, have you no manners? Offer our guest a chair,” he shouted.

“Sorry, sorry, Tio!”

The chair waddled over behind me and invited me to sit.

“Go on, little one. Sit down.” Señor Kettle said. “I’m sure you have some questions.”

I had been appropriately antsy sitting on something that could speak, but the warmth of the coffee helped comfort me. The taste had hints of chocolate and sweetness that I enjoyed. I took deep breaths and then the words spilled out from my mouth faster than I could process them. “You have to tell me what’s going on and why you all can speak? I’ve been looking for my friend Carmelita. We got in a nasty fight yesterday and she hasn’t returned home to her parent’s house,” my voice cracked. “I think your name is Óscar? You said her name earlier. Please, do you know where I can find her?”   

“It’s complicated,” said the flower vase, hopping over to the kitchen table.

“What do you mean, complicated? I need answers. I need to know where she is now!”

“Ahem, little one,” said the kettle.

He was kind but firm, like a loving grandpa speaking to a grandchild.

“Don’t be mean to the Señorita now. She is simply trying to tell you in a way you can understand. Please be patient with her.”

I sighed and muttered. “I understand, I’m sorry.”

The three of them seemed to be staring at me, almost like they were going to break some bad news to me. The idea of my friend Carmelita being dead was overcoming me. I shook my head over and over, almost in anticipation. “No, please, I can’t take it. Just tell me if she’s dead.”

“Not quite,” said Señorita Vase.

“Huh?”

“The witch.” She paused. “She took her...”

“Took her? Took her where?” I demanded answers.

“Into her second home.”

“Where is it? How far?”

“Listen, sweetheart. Carmelita is in a spiritual transitioning period.”

“She’s going to come out like us!” said Óscar with his voice muzzled by the weight of my back pressing against him. “I wonder if she will come out as a really bouncy ball and play with me.”

“It’s the witch’s curse,” said the vase. “There’s nothing worse in this world than loneliness. Carmelita is likely to come back as a part of our home here. According to the spell, a person will assume the form of the treasured item they have the strongest connection with. Same as us three.”

“I don’t understand.” I took a look at their faces and fell back onto Óscar with tears that streamed like a broken river path down my face. “So she’ll never be the same again? So, will she remain trapped here forever?”

“It’s okay, my princess. Everything will be OK. Your friend’s spirit will still be alive. That’s what’s important. The witch will never take that away from her.

“But why would anyone do this to someone innocent?”

“Everyone here has suffered in her will. She’s hurt, so she wants to retalliate and hurt innocent people.”

My husband and I used to own acres of coffee fields not too far from here. We were in this area to look for more land to own, and my nephew Óscar had traveled along with us in hopes of buying the deed to this land. It’s how she found us. We wandered around into her trap, like mosquitoes to a spider web.

“It’s one way to put it,” said Señor Kettle. “Truth is, she isn’t what you believe. We have just never forgiven her for taking our comfortable lives away from us. But, at times she's not a vile woman."

“Oh, quiet, I can’t believe you’re wasting sympathy on her.”

The kettle and the vase began to bicker with each other all the while, I couldn’t help think about Carmelita’s parents and how heartbroken they would be. Then curiosity got the best. I started to wonder what could Carmelita possibly come back as." She was someone who preferred being outside and enjoying nature and the wildlife. Someone who never lived a materialistic life much like myself, we played outside constantly as opposed to the other kids in school.

Then I could almost sense the witch’s presence in my gut.

It was the heavy gust of wind that confirmed it, whizzing through from the rooftops while leaves shooting out like a hurricane had passed, even the passive street dog had ran away.

      “The old woman is back,” said the kettle. “I better brew a fresh batch.”

The flower vase escorted me to a dresser where I hid with only a small space to peek. The pressure in the room started to feel heavier when the witch entered.

Each of her footsteps made my heart pulsate a little forcefully.

Then I noticed her as she walked into the kitchen. Óscar waddled quickly enough to support her while she fell back without looking first. And Señor Kettle was able to brew a hot coffee of his own will. “Careful, Señora Ayala, it’s hot,” he said. “Hope you didn’t get too wet from the rain outside. It sure is a gloomy day, isn’t it?”

The old lady smiled. “Oh, it wasn’t too bad.” She was an unassuming woman with grey hair who wore brightly colored clothing, a pink buttoned shirt with a long floral skirt. She balanced a hand-woven basket on her head as she placed it on the table beside her. On top, I could make out individually wrapped pastelito treats, exactly like the chicken patties my mom loved to make. They even smelled delicious, too. It surprised me to learn that this powerful witch worked as a merchant selling food in the marketplace.

“Señora Ayala, I saw you walking with a young girl earlier this morning.”

      “And? What’s it to you?”

“Pardon me for asking, Señora Ayala. I was just curious if we would have more guests living with us. I’d like to welcome them to the family.”

The witch looked at the vase and reached her frail arm over to it. She grabbed the dead leaves inside and yanked them out. “I’ve got a special gift for you, ma’am.”

She used her telekinesis to hover over an item from her basket. They unraveled by themselves to display a bouquet of beautiful colorful roses. She took a whiff of them.

“Wow! They’re beautiful!” the vase said.

“Tia, Tia! Can I smell them too? Please, please.”

The old witch lowered her arm so that Óscar could smell them beneath her.

“What you think, little fat boy?”

“Mmmm!! Smells so good!”

She fitted them on top of Señorita Vase’s head.      

“Baya!” the witch exclaimed. “Now you look more beautiful. And since you’re all getting so nosey!” she paused and looked around at the attentive eyes of her furniture, appliance, and pottery. “I have another surprise for you. We do, in fact, have someone joining us today.”

      My eyes wandered around the room and I waited until I felt it through knots in my stomach that Carmelita had been in my presence. 

“I want to go back to my home now,” said Carmelita.

“Ah, you sweet beautiful child,” said Señorita Vase. “Come join us first.”

“Please, my parents are going to be worried sick about me.”

I stumbled out of the dresser. “Carmelita!” I yelled.

It took me a moment to spot her, but I immediately knew when I saw her.

She was something that made sense for her. Carmelita was a girl with a profound love for birds, who had always ran around to different parts of the village to watch out for her favorites and then she’d draw them in her sketchbook. She’d run around holding bits of bread to feed them so that she could get a better look.

There she stood as a little bird feeder. A beautiful hand-crafted wooden bird feeder with gorgeous colors, her eyes as honey-brown metal-crafted sunflowers, the same color and shape as her very own. Her mouth was a subtle opening to the feeder. She almost wanted to frown, but smiled when she saw me. Her mouth led to an elongated chin forming from the plate where the birds would feed from.

      “I’m sorry for getting mad at you, and saying those awful things to you” she cried.

“Carmelita. I’m not upset with you about any of that. I just wanted to make sure you were safe.” I hesitated to pick her up and run out of the door because I was never brave when the world called for it. My body had always frozen when I needed to be stronger.

“Okay. I’m up to here with the disrespectfulness. Didn’t your parents teach you not to break into the homes of strangers, little girl? Rather than bothering a poor elderly woman, you should be out making money for your parents!”

The witch moved a dresser in my path so I wouldn’t get any ideas.

“Please, don’t kill me,” I shouted.

“Please Señora Ayala, I beg you. The girl had not seen anything. She thinks she’s hallucinating, for Christ’s sake. She won’t tell a soul about this old shed.”

“Oh, shut up, you tin can. You know more than anyone, the damage has already been done,” said the witch. Her voice sounded more upset. “There’s only one left thing to do with her.” She waved her small hand over to possess a broom that came gliding through the window and then captured into her grasp. The old wooden broom also had a face, one shriveled into the stiff fibers, it let out an expression that appeared concerned.

“We’re going on a brief trip, little girl. It will be a fun excursion for a day and it doesn’t make sense to waste time, so go on then. Take my hand, you runt.”

My knees buckled until I could feel Óscar forcing me to sit on him.

I thought he was taking me to her, but he waddled wide steps closer to my friend.

“What do you think you’re doing?” asked the Witch.

“Friends should never be apart!” Óscar said.

The Witch propelled a knife over to the chair which ripped bits of its string threading.

“Don’t you hurt my boy!” Señorita Vase yelled. She set out to tackle the witch but was caught in mid-air. The witch slammed her across the dirt floor and watched her shatter into a million pieces.

Señor Kettle eyes widened and he sprayed hot coffee at the old woman’s arm and caused her to whip her telekinesis hand away. “Bayunco! You’ll pay for that!”

Óscar continued to drag me over close enough to grab Carmelita.

      I rose from the chair holding Carmelita tight against my chest and ran towards the door that led outside.

The witch had shut it.

“You must keep going, young lady!” yelled the Kettle. “She can’t do anything to you if you leave this place. Far Far uh-“

The broom had knocked him off the table.

And while I struggled to open the door, an angry face molded out from it.

“Ah, troublemakers everywhere! Tsk tsk. Don’t think you’re leaving here, cipota.” the old door said with his rough low voice.

I turned the knob again, and it wouldn’t budge.

“Get out of the way!!!” Carmelita yelled louder than I had ever heard her before. The door laughed. “No chance, Pendeja!”

I paced around, trying to find another exit, but there was none. I turned around to the witch who had been rinsing cool water on her burnt arm. She turned her attention to me before I heard something that sounded like machinery drilling against the door. A little tear fell from the door’s left eye. “Make it stop! Ahh!!” he yelled. “They’re eating me!”

Then they all bursted inside through the door, in came a murder of crows flying aggressively followed by flocks of tropical island birds including the beautiful turquoise-browed motmots that Carmelita had been obsessed with. There were dozens of quails, hummingbirds, sandpipers, godwits, woodcocks, and shanks all rushing through for the rescue. They blinded everyone in the house and pecked at the old witch's face.

It was our chance to leave.

Some birds nudged me out of the door and I ran out of the house and down past the banana forest, stepping on moldy fruit along the way with Carmelita encouraging me on and daring me to hop over the chicken-wired fence.      

I could hear the crying sounds of the witch screaming out.

“Pleaaaase! I’ll take care of the both of you like you're my very own daughters! Estupidas!”

After running for what felt like thirty minutes through the mud and the rain, wrapping my arms tight around my best friend, the birdhouse, I was relieved we escaped. I had known the nightmare was over because Carmelita's weight became heavier and heavier the further I went until I could no longer support her. I tumbled face first onto piles of damped wet leaves and was woken up by the licks of the mutt from before. And then I smiled seeing my friend in her human form laying just a few feet away, tattered and bruised, but breathing. I owed it all to those courageous strangers who supported us and cared when they had nothing to gain.