Shadows

Harold and Marcy pulled into the empty driveway.

"I think we beat the realtor,” Marcy said as she opened her own car door. “Let’s look around.”

Harold eyed the faded two-story house and frowned. “Why don’t we wait?” he suggested. The house was two miles outside the city limits and appeared dark and forbidding even in the afternoon sun; it had clearly seen better days.

“Oh, come on,” she coaxed. “We don’t need a realtor to walk around the house and check out the backyard.”

A realtor, no, he thought, but maybe a bodyguard. What was she thinking? he wondered. The place creepy.

“Oh, Harold,” she called from around back, snapping him out of his mental appraisal of the place, “come look at the yard. It’s got great potential.”

Harold didn’t really care what the backyard looked like or what kind of potential it had. He’d already made up his mind.

“I’m coming,” he called, walking toward the back, resigned to looking and doing a walk-through with the realtor.

Maybe he won’t show up, Harold prayed.

“Isn’t it great?” Marcy said from the farthest corner.

“Maybe,” he said. If the house wasn’t here, he added to himself.

Just then they heard the crunch of gravel as a car pulled into the driveway.

“Oh, good,” Marcy said as she hurried across the yard and, grabbing Harold’s hand, all but pulled him around to the front.

“Oh, there you are,” Mr. Miller said extending his hand first to Marcy, and then to Harold. “I’m so sorry I’m late. Have you been waiting long?”

“Just long enough to see that beautiful backyard,” Marcy said. “We can’t wait to see the inside.”

Miller and Harold made eye contact, but neither spoke. The realtor had a feeling this was going to be a hard sell. With key in hand, Miller escorted them up the porch steps to the front door.

“As I said, the place hasn’t been lived in for awhile and will need plenty of TLC to bring it back to its original glory.”

Pushing open the door, Miller let Marcy and Harold precede him inside.

“Oh, my,” Marcy said. “It’s beautiful. Just look at those windows, Harold,” she said excitedly.

Harold did look. Two large tall windows were evenly spaced on the north wall between three floor-to-ceiling book cases. Sunlight poured in and yet, there were shadows. Too many shadows in his opinion. He reached for the light switch. Nothing.

“How long has the power been off?” he asked Miller. “More than thirty days and the power company won’t turn it back on without an inspection.”

Miller checked a page on his clipboard. “Since the second of February. They’d left everything on when Mrs. Stone went into the nursing home two years ago. The plan was to hire a live-in nurse when she was well enough to come home, but that never happened. She died the end of January.”

“I’m surprised they’re showing the house before they get all the furnishings out,” Marcy said.

“The family has already taken everything they want. The house is being sold ‘as is’. There’s an antique store in town,” he said reaching in his shirt pocket for a card, “that has expressed an interest in buying anything the new owners don’t want.” Miller handed the card to Marcy.

“Thank you, but so far, I don’t see anything I’d want to get rid of. How about you, Harold?”

Just the shadows he said under his breath. “Too soon to tell since we haven’t even decided if we want the place.”

“Of course, we want it,” she told Harold, just now figuring out he had no intentions of buying the house.

Then turning to the realtor, said, “We’ll take it. If Harold and I don’t buy it for ourselves, I’ll have my trust fund buy it and turn it into an inn or retreat house.”

The realtor shifted his gaze from Marcy to Harold.

“You heard the lady,” Harold said. “You just sold a house. We’ll have our realtor call you and work out all the details. Now if you’d be kind enough to show us the rest of Our house,” he smiled.

“Certainly,” Miller said, happy to finally have a buyer for the old house. He had a reputation of never having a house on the market longer than ten days and this property was really messing with that imagine.

Besides the combination living room/library which they were already in, the downstairs had a dining room that would seat a dozen comfortably and a large country kitchen with a breakfast nook overlooking the backyard.

Really a nice layout Harold thought as they wandered through the main floor, but the shadows. Even without the power, there were enough windows letting in the sunlight that there shouldn’t have been so many shadows. That worried him. A lot.

He and Marcy were planning to get married in August, but if Marcy insisted on buying this place and actually living in it, he might have to rethink those plans. The place gave him the creeps.

Well, there was time, he thought. They, or she, would buy the place, get the utilities turned on and chase out all the shadows. Yes, that’s what they’d do. And with all the shadows gone, the place would be a great home for him and Marcy and the family they planned to have.

“How many bedrooms?” Marcy asked as they climbed the elegant staircase.

“Three,” Miller said. “Two bedrooms that share a bath and a master suite with bedroom, sitting room, and private bath.”

It didn’t take long to view the bedrooms.

“What’s this lead to?” Marcy asked as they passed a padlocked door at the end of the hall.

“Attic,” Miller said, “but I don’t have a key.”

“Well, as long as there aren’t any resident ghosts,” she said lightly.

“None were listed,” he laughed. “Any other questions?” he asked as he led them back downstairs.

“I can’t think of a thing,” Marcy said. “You’ve been very thorough. Thank you,” and she held out her hand.

Miller shook her hand and then Harold’s.

“We’ll notify Markham and Winchester this afternoon and have them call you in the morning,” Marcy said. “I can’t wait to get possession and start making it a home again.”

In the car, Harold took a final look at the house. To him, it still looked dark and forbidding. He even thought he saw a shadow move across the master bedroom window and then move back and linger. Just then a big gust of wind came up from nowhere. It was like the shadow was speaking to him. But, no, it was just his imagination. Wasn’t it?

The shadow watched the trespassers leave.

No, it thought, no one would be moving into this house for quite some time. The Shadow knows.