Whispers Across Time

The estate meandered onto the leafy suburban street at a tender pace. Anticipation took control of Mark briefly, whispering for him to put his foot down. He fought it off with a momentary tightening of his hold on the wheel. The brakes squealed in objection to the slightly overzealous pressure Mark provided as they came to a halt.

Sarah glanced out of her window. There it was. On the crest of the small hill sat a charming, if a little dated, Victorian house. Its arched sash windows had seen better days, and the small spots of grime beginning to cover them suggested that it needed a bit of TLC. But there was a charm about it; she couldn’t deny that.

They stepped out into the warming pool of sunlight, its glow making them feel at ease already. They pushed open the heavy oak door and stepped onto the hardwood floors, hearing at once their footsteps echo within the foyer. Dust particles flitted in and out of the spotlight, draining in through the window. A smell managed to sneak its way through her nasal hairs as she breathed in. A scent of a mixture of sweet cherry and sour vinegar. The sound of clinking glasses bombarded her eardrums. She closed her eyes and pushed nostalgia away, focusing on her heartbeat to bring her back to the present.

Sarah felt the push in her back from curiosity force her forward. As she walked through the foyer, she stretched out her hands, desiring to feel the contours of the rugged wallpaper by her side, leaving behind fingerprints amongst the dust as she did so.

Mark had made his way to the back of the building with the aim of looking out on the rolling garden. However, his journey became side-tracked as he came across a small room with a crib at its centre. He smiled softly as he felt the wish start to rise up his throat. He swallowed it down once more, knowing that this was far from the time.

The study was immaculately kept, with rows and rows of books on the two bookcases that sat on opposite walls. Yet placed at an acute angle next to one of these sat a rocking chair. Its style and pattern seemed to be one Sarah recalled from somewhere. But where? She frowned in puzzlement as Past tapped her on the shoulder; her body began to be enclosed by the blanket of its shadow.

She ignored it. Instead trying to occupy herself with anything she could find, and it did not take long. An aged leather diary with crisp pages made her survey of the room stop before it had really started. She placed a finger on its spine.

The sound vanished without a trace. Mark, who had appeared moments before, halted in the doorway. Unease passed between each other’s eyes as a mysterious force from within Sarah told her to open the diary.

“Are you feeling this too?” Sarah managed to utter softly after some effort.

“I’m feeling something”, replied Mark cautiously as he reluctantly stepped further, all whilst seemingly fighting the raw energy now permeating from the diary. “I…. don’t exactly know how to begin to describe it, though”.

Sarah gave a gentle nod, focusing solely on the diary now held firmly in her palms. The gold letters that gleamed prominently still on the cover suddenly started to either rearrange themselves or dissolve right in front of her eyes. Once they had finished, only two words remained behind. Open me. Her index and middle fingers flicked outwards and sank their grip onto the edge of the cover. Sarah panicked as she realised she had no autonomy over them any longer.

Realising what was about to occur, Mark sprang to life as if he had just been launched off a trampoline. Already though, he knew he had not reacted to the jeopardy with sufficient speed as the pages opened.

Their visions blurred as the air became heavy, and its oppressive weight began to press down on them as if they were surrounded by a concrete fog trying to get their knees to buckle. And all of a sudden, as abruptly as it had started, it was over.

No longer did any objects hang in the air. During all the pandemonium, Sarah had lost grip of the diary, and it had fallen to the floor. Faces now stared out at her from the faded photographs. Next to them, written in neat handwriting, were two names. “Lily and Samuel” she mused.

As she turned to look at Mark, she felt his arm pull abruptly away from her in startlement. Following the direction of his look, she saw them. Two figures stood by the opposite bookcase who, although they were solid, had a strange haze to their outlines.

Mark gulped loudly next to her, and she heard the pace of his breath quicken beyond any cadence she had ever heard before. She dared not even blink as she continued to lock onto the couple. Yet after what felt like two hours but could have only been minutes at most, she broke as her eyes began to cascade with water. She blinked, and they drifted out of the room and down the hall.

Mark and Sarah exchanged glances, confused but all the same, feeling an inexplicable urge to follow these mysterious figures further into the depths of the house. Sarah stepped forward with Mark not far behind. But within a second’s delay at most of entering the hallway, they realised there was nothing there. Mark exhaled an uneasy breath and whispered to Sarah, “What do we…”.  

Sarah clasped her hand to Mark’s mouth in an attempt to silence him, and it was a little more forceful than she had intended, but it had the desired outcome she was after. She took her hand away to see a red mark forming.

A bitter voice cut off any chance to apologise. It carried a zest of venom as it spoke. “This place you want to call home is far from it. Not until the truth is peeled back from the masks you both hide behind”.

They stared at each other, searching for an answer they knew neither of them had the capability to provide. “What are we going to do?” Mark muttered again, his voice barely managing to swim to Sarah’s ears against the current of the howling draft now freezing the house.

Suddenly, the voice spoke out once more—two separate messages addressing both Sarah and Mark, unbeknownst to the other. To Sarah: “Your soul is incomplete, so we offer you two choices. Either you stay and find the remedy it needs or face that you are destined to sever your connection to happiness. Upstairs in the master bedroom is your last chance - go now.” To Mark: “Although you believe you have found your calling. You have yet to truly understand the weight of the decisions set out before you. Come to the lounge to see what happens when you make up people’s minds for them.”

They caressed each other’s hands once more before letting them slide slowly away and down to their sides as they went to their separate destinations. Sarah wanted to wrap herself up in a punching bag and unload on it. This is the kind of foolishness I’d scold horror movie characters for, Sarah thought angrily.

A few moments later, she came out onto the first-floor landing and immediately noticed the fact that only one door was open. It was only a crack, but it was enough of a signal to let her know this was the way she was meant to go. Clapping her hands to try and give her some energy, she dragged herself to the end of the corridor and paused, her hand hovering just in front of the door that signified the point of no return.

Curling her hand up into a fist, she found the strength and entered the room. Nothing. Not a single unexpected sight. No spirits or strange antiq….. Wait, what is that? She thought as she began to move closer. A tattered doll came into view, and immediately, she was ambushed by feelings and images she had long believed she had destroyed from her innermost vaults.

Memories of summers spent exploring the woods behind the local farm with her sister, moulding adventures with the sticks, leaves and stones they found. Sheltering each other from monsters that were imagined and all too real. And there he was, the person she had tried so hard to cleanse herself of and wipe from her existence. A face that knew how to disintegrate joy and, from the wreckage, build a monument to misery. The image of him standing at the doorway while Sarah cradled her sister flashed before her eyes, eliciting tears that welled up unexpectedly.

“No…. you’re gone”, she stuttered, trying to fight the tears while instinctively curling her arms around herself. When she looked up, she found Lily standing before her, a grimace revealing pain that seemed to penetrate straight into Sarah’s retinas. It felt as though Lily was invading her thoughts, breaking open further chambers she had sealed off years ago. Her mind was crashing around now, the direction of its travel ever-changing; she knew she was flapping now just like a bird caught in the heart of a hurricane’s wrath.

Lily waved her arm above her head in an arch, and somehow, she managed to whip the air into stillness as if nothing had occurred. She smiled at Sarah and then tilted her head towards the wardrobe as it swung open, seemingly of its own fruition. A bright white funnel of light erupted out into the room around them. Lily lunged straight into the wardrobe, and in that instant, the room and all its belongings, including Sarah, began to be sucked towards the inescapable vortex.

In the lounge, it was a much calmer atmosphere. Mark had managed to find nothing out of the ordinary here, and that is exactly how he liked it. He fiddled with a dark red miniature Alpha Romeo, its curves slightly smoother than the designer had perhaps intended due to overuse. He ran it along his palm as the tyres’ friction caused warmth to spread into the small crevices. A man cleared his throat.

Samuel was sitting in a chair, gazing at him intently. “The first toy I played with,” said the man before chuckling dryly and continuing. “You see, when you’re no longer alive, all you have is time for reflection and reminiscing... Much like my later years of life, oddly enough.”

Mark felt a lump in his throat; this encounter was all so new to him that he had nothing of reference to assist him in how to approach this. Yet, although his presence had caused his lungs to shrivel to the size of a peanut before, Samuel now appeared relaxed and unthreatening. It felt different. He nervously cleared his throat and responded, “It’s very worn. Were you the only one to play with it?”

“Grip it tightly, you’ll see”, Samuel cryptically remarked.

Following Samuel’s instructions, Mark tightly held the object. He watched in awe as the room immediately morphed into a series of memories portraying Lily and Samuel’s journey together. There they were, Lily and Samuel, from their daring first glances across the village hall to their first holiday in Carcassonne, a stunning summer wedding, and lastly, their own garden with a baby boy not much taller than Samuel’s knees running around chasing a bumblebee as his parents laughed from the decking behind him.

Then, as if a dam had burst, the cheery atmosphere was submerged as waves of sorrow and despair swept over them. How quickly it became evident that Samuel’s certainty of being a parent had been misplaced, the fresh pressures drove him to drink. Shortly after, Lily was crying in front of their home while Samuel stood behind her, tightly clasping his hands until his knuckles turned pale as Children Services took their son from them.

It was truly heart-wrenching to witness how that child had held resentment towards them for all those years. The pain they were still radiating even now after all this time was palpable to Mark, and what saddened him the most was he knew there was nothing he could do to alleviate their suffering or make things right again.

Mark watched as Lily and Samuel reunited with their estranged son at his wedding, surrounded by all their other children – this time, it was clear that fatherhood came more naturally to Samuel.

The last memory he saw was of Lily and Samuel dancing together in the lounge late one night after putting all their kids to bed. They held each other close. Swaying with the occasional spin on the spot. Mark couldn’t hear the music they listened to, but he had a strong sense that felt his heartbeat to the same rhythm as it filled with glorious reverence at the beautiful sight before him. Grateful for this fleeting moment, he blinked slowly as if to take a mental photo of the scene; he then released the Alfa Romeo once more and found himself standing back in the lounge with Samuel now directly in front of him.

Not for the first time today, Mark struggled to find the words to say. He was usually much more talkative than this. Yet his mind recognised that words would simply not be enough. Instead, he walked over to Samuel and gave him a tight squeeze. Holding him made him realise just how many similarities they shared, and the realisation caused him to break. His body tremored as his breath rattled with joyful sorrow.

Mark realised this was no ordinary toy; it was a symbol of resilience and the belief that regardless of odds, one can always strive for their dreams. Sure, he might not be able to fix all the damage he had and would cause, but you can always try to mend it regardless.

“Thank you”, breathed Mark. “I believe I owe my wife an apology”. Samuel nodded kindly in response as Mark departed. He chanced one a backwards glance at Samuel, whose face seemed illuminated with newfound light, every trace of distress slowly fading away like forgotten history.

Sarah wasn’t sure exactly where she was now. It was a large room. She could barely see the purple shifting ceiling, with wisps of white shifting occasionally to form different shapes. Lily sat on a bench just in front of her. She stretched her arm forward and patted the space next to her.

“We both know what you saw, Sarah. Do you know why you saw him again?” she asked gently as Sarah sat. “Because you scared me, and I was distracted. He took his opportunity and slipped in again.” Sarah retorted. Lily shook her head vehemently. “Try again, really think about it. Believe it or not, I am on your side.”

Sarah fought off a derogatory laugh. Who did this woman think she was, claiming to know more about Sarah’s mind than she did. “So far, you’ve offered threats of my soul being beyond repair and shown me parts of my life I never wanted to remember. How exactly are you on my side? What makes you think for one second you know who I am or how I feel?”

Lily’s lips formed a wistful smile for a moment. “Indulge me, if you will, with Sarah”. She leant back, her gaze fixated on the ceiling. Following her direction, Sarah looked up and saw the wisps had formed into a face. The face of her first son. She recounted the story to Sarah that Mark had witnessed first-hand. Not pausing for a moment for fear she would not continue.

She finally broke the surface of her memory and came up to breathe. She now looked right into Sarah’s eyes once more. “The point is, Sarah. I don’t claim that our pain is identical because no one’s is. All I know is I was worried we would repeat our mistakes, yet we eventually decided to give it another go”.

Sarah raised her eyebrows in response. “How? How could you be so sure it was worth the risk?”

“We weren’t sure. But that’s the beauty of it. You’ll never be fully certain, but if you want to live the life you desire, you cannot let the past pull you through the future”.

“What if I’m beyond repair? I get so angry sometimes. I feel his clutches digging into me sometimes. Influencing me. It’s hard to explain….. What if I…. I hurt them even a fraction of the amount he hurt me and my sister?”

Lily brushed her hand against Sarah’s cheek. It was far from the cool that Sarah had braced herself for. It was a gentle warmth the like of which a fading campfire provides. Her thumb stroked along her jawline back and forth in a motherly way. “The fact you ask yourself that is all the answer you need. He has not and never will define you.”

Sarah dared a cautious smile and mouthed thanks, words held captive by her throat once more. She closed her eyes again, focusing on her breath and savouring the moment. In that instant, she felt the air rush through her hair.

She opened her eyes once more, and Lily was gone, and the purple ceiling was no longer above her. She was back in the study, Mark opposite her. The diary, now closed, lay between their feet. They took one look at each other as tears began to form in the corners of their eyes. “I’m sorry” they gushed simultaneously. Smiling, they both stepped forward and kissed, a long, passionate kiss that seemed to last long enough they may suffocate. Finally, they broke apart and shared the widest smile they could offer. They knew the answer.