The House that Creaks
Lydia Jane crossed the street to pass the old Brickett House, just as she had done every day walking home from school. But something was different. Lydia Jane noticed the car was now facing the other way. Then, just as she was turning away, something moved in the window upstairs. She stood there completely still, waiting to see it one more time. Maybe she had imagined it...
Maybe she hadn't. It was often said that the house was haunted, but it had always just been speculated rumors and a local folktale. Lydia had lived in this town her whole life, and she never once saw life in the old house. Nothing but decay and rust. It would really be something if the stories had been true all along. She wanted to tell someone, but decided she'd wait. She didn't want anyone thinking she was making it up. So how to get proof was the next thing on her mind.
Lydia decided it would be a good idea to take someone with her. She glanced toward the Collins house. Lytle Collins, her next door neighbor, was several years younger than her and could get very annoying very fast. He never stopped talking. It was a wonder he didn't pass out from never taking a breath between words. She didn't really feel like listening to his long-winded stories for five minutes, let alone for a couple of hours.
Then she thought about Samette and Danelle Marron. They were awfully peppy and cheerful all the time. But she knew that the sisters would be excited at the thought of spending a few hours in a real haunted house. They'd even want to make it into a sleepover. So at the risk of having to discuss the stars in the magazines, favorite nail polish colors, and lipstick shades, Lydia sauntered through the adjoining backyards to knock on the Marrons' door.
Samette, the youngest of the two sisters, answered the door. Samette and Lydia were closer in age and had slightly more interests in common to talk about than Danelle and Lydia. Samette had copper red hair and freckles peppering her nose and cheeks. Danelle had wavy auburn hair and dark brown eyes. They couldn't appear more different, but they were extremely close and no one would question that they were best friends.
"Hey Samette, what are you up to?" Lydia asked, leading up to inviting the girls on an adventure.
"Who's at the door?" Danelle sounded like she was coming down the staircase behind the front door.
"It's Lydia Jane Prescott. She wants to know what we're up to, Dani." Samette flipped her pony tail as if brushing it out of the way, but it was already behind her shoulders to begin with.
Danelle paused with a slight grin in the corner of her mouth. She always liked to appear more mysterious than she was. It made her come off as mischievous, instead. "It all depends," she countered in a sing-song voice, "what do you want us to do?"
Lydia resisted the urge to roll her eyes. "I just thought the two of you might be interested in a little trip."
Before she could finish her thought, Danelle cut in. "What kind of trip? We're not just going to go anywhere you say without knowing where it is, first."
Lydia was frustrated, but she showed restraint. "Well, I was just about to tell you... It's a haunted house."
Samette looked suspicious. "What haunted house? We live in nowheresville."
"It's the old Brickett House on 28th and Main. It's been there forever. How have you not heard about it?" Lydia was calm, but still surprised.
"That old place? I just thought it was a run down mansion. I didn't know it was haunted." Samette looked as if she was starting to get a little spooked.
Danelle was more curious than her sister, and she was finally starting to get excited. Now that she knew where this was going, she was already making a checklist in her head of what to pack. Danelle had heard stories about the Brickett place before. It was always creepy, but that was just about it. Nothing had ever happened there before. "Come on, Samette. Let's go pack a ghost hunting kit." She had always been intrigued by the veil, the great beyond, and anything that would make a normal person jump out of their skin. Lydia Jane's story about a white shadow moving in an upstairs window was just the thing Danelle was looking for to entertain her Friday night.
"But what about Mom? What are we going to tell her we're doing, Dani?" Samette was always worried about what Mom was going to find out.
"Duh, we'll just tell her we're staying the night at Lydia Jane's, silly. You're such a little sugarplum." Danelle stomped up the stairs at a quick pace, shaking the picture frames on the walls.
"Don't run up the stairs!" Ms. Marron shouted from the kitchen sink where she was elbow deep in dish soap.
"Well, I guess I'll be right back then." Samette loosely gestured her arm toward the living room with big round eyes wide open. "You may as well have a seat. Come on in." Then she pounded up the stairs after her sister, letting the door slam behind her.
"Don't run up the stairs!" Came from the kitchen one more time, then soon after, "And don't slam the door!"
Samette acted like she didn't like her sister taking charge of everything all the time, and sometimes she really didn't. But other times, it could be comforting to have someone else make all the decisions and never have to wonder if you were right or wrong. It was better to have an older sister, anyway, Samette thought. That way, you'd always have someone to tell you if you look stupid before you leave the house. It seemed like Danelle always knew what she was doing, and she never looked stupid when she left the house. Well, ok, maybe there was that one time.
"Hello, are you hearing me?"
Samette looked up. She realized Danelle must have been trying to get her attention for her to grab what she was holding.
"Can you please put this in the go-bag over there?"
Samette looked at the small rectangular bag on the bed. She nodded and scooted her feet across the floor to grab her fuzzy blue jacket and put in the bag. That was a good idea Danelle had. Now she won't be cold later.
Once the girls were all packed, they trotted down the staircase and paused briefly to wave on Lydia Jane, then pushed open the front door, and out they were.
Just as the front door swung open, "Don't run down the stairs!" Then as it slammed behind them, "And don't slam the door!"
The girls were walking quickly, talking at hyper speed, but as they approached the house they slowed gradually until they came to a complete stop on the corner across the street. They stood there, still, just watching the house and waiting. Finally, one of them decided to say something. They couldn't just stand there forever, after all.
It was Lydia Jane who spoke. "Well, I guess it's time we should go inside, then." The girls exchanged glances, then without saying a word, all walked toward the house in unison.
Inside the front door was an aging house that was long past due. The walls were layered in blackness, if there was even wall left in a room. The ceiling was a doorway to the upstairs. The chandelier rested in the center of the floor, lopsided. Kitchen drawers were falling out or missing. Doorknobs lay scattered across the floor, as well as curled wallpaper, planks, nails, broken glass, light bulbs, trunks of clothing half open, and smashed picture frames with photographs of people from centuries ago. So much history, so little of it still visible.
Lydia Jane noticed a young girl in one of the photographs. Something about her features was familiar. She was wearing a white gown with laced ends. Her hair in curls atop her shoulders, her eyes an icy blue. Except the photograph was in black and white. How did Lydia know her eyes were the color of frost? Was it something she just sensed? Or had she seen this girl before?
Crash ~ ~ ~
Lydia stood straight up, and with wide eyes glared at the door to the other room.
"Danelle?"
...
...
...
"Samette?"
...
...
...
No answer.
Lydia walked as quietly as she could through all of the debris. Pretty soon she heard the unmistakable sound of the sisters barreling down the stairs... in a creaky, old house. Her shoulders sank in relief. The girls were talking way too fast all at the same time in excitement. Lydia couldn't understand what was being said.
Then she made out one question, "Did you hear that?"
She shook her head yes with big, open eyes. The girls all stood close together as they made their way through the house looking for the source of the noise. Linked by Samette's fingers tugging at Danelle's shirt tail, Danelle's hand on Lydia Jane's shoulder, and Lydia with her arm behind her wrapped around her friends as her other reached for openings in the darkening house as night fell in through the windows and cracks of the walls. Then something else tapped Lydia's leg, another hand maybe? Before she had the chance to say anything, a ghostly voice called out her name. The other girls were screaming and dancing about, stomping at everything in the way. But Lydia paused. That voice sounded familiar.
"Lytle?" "Guys, stop. Shhhh!" "Lytle, it's Lytle." "Both of you, please, quiet!" "It's just Lytle."
"Hey! How did you know?!" He stood up from behind the wall, dropping a black cloak behind him, something he probably bought at a costume store and kept handy all year round.
Lydia's heart sank, her face unchanging. She was a bit relieved as the other two were, but she was also extremely disappointed. She thought she had truly found something here, and it felt like it had all just been ripped away. What could have possibly been ripped away? She didn't have anything. Even if she had found something, she didn't possess it. Yet, somehow it still felt as though she had been robbed of a truly exciting experience, a belief almost, a sense of possibility. The sisters were playfully punching Lytle in the shoulder and giving him grief for being a nuisance. Lydia glanced around the room, and gestured for the others to follow her.
"Come on. Let's go. There's nothing here." Lydia's voice gave off sadness even though she tried to keep her tone casual. She didn't want to seem as if she actually wanted to find the ghost. Although, hadn't that been why they tagged along with her anyway? Oh Well, she thought, I guess I was wrong about this place. I must have been seeing things.
As they all bumbled down the staircase in the front of the house, giggling and laughing, planning what to do with the rest of their free time before school started again, Lydia stopped and looked back up at the window where she saw a figure move earlier in the day. She thought she saw a girl with blue eyes and black curls waving back at her. It wasn't a glance this time. She stood there staring, seeing this figure of a girl in a white gown, not smiling, but not frowning, either. Lydia didn't move, she didn't look away, she didn't say anything to the others. If she looked away, the girl would be gone. If she said something to the others, they may not believe her, and they may not see what she saw. Lydia stood there in belief, not wanting anyone to be able to take that moment or that belief away from her. She raised her hand and wiggled her fingers in a slow goodbye, or maybe it was a hello. Either way, the girl in the window seemed satisfied with the response and turned to leave, but disappeared into thin air before leaving the frame of the window. She was all smoke and flickers of light, only existing in the frames of pictures and windows and the imagination of a little girl who wanted to believe. A ghost, a piece of history, an ancestor, fiction, a memory, a story to tell. Of all the things this girl could be, the most important is how she brought to life the art and mystery in Lydia Jane... and in you.
Maybe she hadn't. It was often said that the house was haunted, but it had always just been speculated rumors and a local folktale. Lydia had lived in this town her whole life, and she never once saw life in the old house. Nothing but decay and rust. It would really be something if the stories had been true all along. She wanted to tell someone, but decided she'd wait. She didn't want anyone thinking she was making it up. So how to get proof was the next thing on her mind.
Lydia decided it would be a good idea to take someone with her. She glanced toward the Collins house. Lytle Collins, her next door neighbor, was several years younger than her and could get very annoying very fast. He never stopped talking. It was a wonder he didn't pass out from never taking a breath between words. She didn't really feel like listening to his long-winded stories for five minutes, let alone for a couple of hours.
Then she thought about Samette and Danelle Marron. They were awfully peppy and cheerful all the time. But she knew that the sisters would be excited at the thought of spending a few hours in a real haunted house. They'd even want to make it into a sleepover. So at the risk of having to discuss the stars in the magazines, favorite nail polish colors, and lipstick shades, Lydia sauntered through the adjoining backyards to knock on the Marrons' door.
Samette, the youngest of the two sisters, answered the door. Samette and Lydia were closer in age and had slightly more interests in common to talk about than Danelle and Lydia. Samette had copper red hair and freckles peppering her nose and cheeks. Danelle had wavy auburn hair and dark brown eyes. They couldn't appear more different, but they were extremely close and no one would question that they were best friends.
"Hey Samette, what are you up to?" Lydia asked, leading up to inviting the girls on an adventure.
"Who's at the door?" Danelle sounded like she was coming down the staircase behind the front door.
"It's Lydia Jane Prescott. She wants to know what we're up to, Dani." Samette flipped her pony tail as if brushing it out of the way, but it was already behind her shoulders to begin with.
Danelle paused with a slight grin in the corner of her mouth. She always liked to appear more mysterious than she was. It made her come off as mischievous, instead. "It all depends," she countered in a sing-song voice, "what do you want us to do?"
Lydia resisted the urge to roll her eyes. "I just thought the two of you might be interested in a little trip."
Before she could finish her thought, Danelle cut in. "What kind of trip? We're not just going to go anywhere you say without knowing where it is, first."
Lydia was frustrated, but she showed restraint. "Well, I was just about to tell you... It's a haunted house."
Samette looked suspicious. "What haunted house? We live in nowheresville."
"It's the old Brickett House on 28th and Main. It's been there forever. How have you not heard about it?" Lydia was calm, but still surprised.
"That old place? I just thought it was a run down mansion. I didn't know it was haunted." Samette looked as if she was starting to get a little spooked.
Danelle was more curious than her sister, and she was finally starting to get excited. Now that she knew where this was going, she was already making a checklist in her head of what to pack. Danelle had heard stories about the Brickett place before. It was always creepy, but that was just about it. Nothing had ever happened there before. "Come on, Samette. Let's go pack a ghost hunting kit." She had always been intrigued by the veil, the great beyond, and anything that would make a normal person jump out of their skin. Lydia Jane's story about a white shadow moving in an upstairs window was just the thing Danelle was looking for to entertain her Friday night.
"But what about Mom? What are we going to tell her we're doing, Dani?" Samette was always worried about what Mom was going to find out.
"Duh, we'll just tell her we're staying the night at Lydia Jane's, silly. You're such a little sugarplum." Danelle stomped up the stairs at a quick pace, shaking the picture frames on the walls.
"Don't run up the stairs!" Ms. Marron shouted from the kitchen sink where she was elbow deep in dish soap.
"Well, I guess I'll be right back then." Samette loosely gestured her arm toward the living room with big round eyes wide open. "You may as well have a seat. Come on in." Then she pounded up the stairs after her sister, letting the door slam behind her.
"Don't run up the stairs!" Came from the kitchen one more time, then soon after, "And don't slam the door!"
Samette acted like she didn't like her sister taking charge of everything all the time, and sometimes she really didn't. But other times, it could be comforting to have someone else make all the decisions and never have to wonder if you were right or wrong. It was better to have an older sister, anyway, Samette thought. That way, you'd always have someone to tell you if you look stupid before you leave the house. It seemed like Danelle always knew what she was doing, and she never looked stupid when she left the house. Well, ok, maybe there was that one time.
"Hello, are you hearing me?"
Samette looked up. She realized Danelle must have been trying to get her attention for her to grab what she was holding.
"Can you please put this in the go-bag over there?"
Samette looked at the small rectangular bag on the bed. She nodded and scooted her feet across the floor to grab her fuzzy blue jacket and put in the bag. That was a good idea Danelle had. Now she won't be cold later.
Once the girls were all packed, they trotted down the staircase and paused briefly to wave on Lydia Jane, then pushed open the front door, and out they were.
Just as the front door swung open, "Don't run down the stairs!" Then as it slammed behind them, "And don't slam the door!"
The girls were walking quickly, talking at hyper speed, but as they approached the house they slowed gradually until they came to a complete stop on the corner across the street. They stood there, still, just watching the house and waiting. Finally, one of them decided to say something. They couldn't just stand there forever, after all.
It was Lydia Jane who spoke. "Well, I guess it's time we should go inside, then." The girls exchanged glances, then without saying a word, all walked toward the house in unison.
Inside the front door was an aging house that was long past due. The walls were layered in blackness, if there was even wall left in a room. The ceiling was a doorway to the upstairs. The chandelier rested in the center of the floor, lopsided. Kitchen drawers were falling out or missing. Doorknobs lay scattered across the floor, as well as curled wallpaper, planks, nails, broken glass, light bulbs, trunks of clothing half open, and smashed picture frames with photographs of people from centuries ago. So much history, so little of it still visible.
Lydia Jane noticed a young girl in one of the photographs. Something about her features was familiar. She was wearing a white gown with laced ends. Her hair in curls atop her shoulders, her eyes an icy blue. Except the photograph was in black and white. How did Lydia know her eyes were the color of frost? Was it something she just sensed? Or had she seen this girl before?
Crash ~ ~ ~
Lydia stood straight up, and with wide eyes glared at the door to the other room.
"Danelle?"
...
...
...
"Samette?"
...
...
...
No answer.
Lydia walked as quietly as she could through all of the debris. Pretty soon she heard the unmistakable sound of the sisters barreling down the stairs... in a creaky, old house. Her shoulders sank in relief. The girls were talking way too fast all at the same time in excitement. Lydia couldn't understand what was being said.
Then she made out one question, "Did you hear that?"
She shook her head yes with big, open eyes. The girls all stood close together as they made their way through the house looking for the source of the noise. Linked by Samette's fingers tugging at Danelle's shirt tail, Danelle's hand on Lydia Jane's shoulder, and Lydia with her arm behind her wrapped around her friends as her other reached for openings in the darkening house as night fell in through the windows and cracks of the walls. Then something else tapped Lydia's leg, another hand maybe? Before she had the chance to say anything, a ghostly voice called out her name. The other girls were screaming and dancing about, stomping at everything in the way. But Lydia paused. That voice sounded familiar.
"Lytle?" "Guys, stop. Shhhh!" "Lytle, it's Lytle." "Both of you, please, quiet!" "It's just Lytle."
"Hey! How did you know?!" He stood up from behind the wall, dropping a black cloak behind him, something he probably bought at a costume store and kept handy all year round.
Lydia's heart sank, her face unchanging. She was a bit relieved as the other two were, but she was also extremely disappointed. She thought she had truly found something here, and it felt like it had all just been ripped away. What could have possibly been ripped away? She didn't have anything. Even if she had found something, she didn't possess it. Yet, somehow it still felt as though she had been robbed of a truly exciting experience, a belief almost, a sense of possibility. The sisters were playfully punching Lytle in the shoulder and giving him grief for being a nuisance. Lydia glanced around the room, and gestured for the others to follow her.
"Come on. Let's go. There's nothing here." Lydia's voice gave off sadness even though she tried to keep her tone casual. She didn't want to seem as if she actually wanted to find the ghost. Although, hadn't that been why they tagged along with her anyway? Oh Well, she thought, I guess I was wrong about this place. I must have been seeing things.
As they all bumbled down the staircase in the front of the house, giggling and laughing, planning what to do with the rest of their free time before school started again, Lydia stopped and looked back up at the window where she saw a figure move earlier in the day. She thought she saw a girl with blue eyes and black curls waving back at her. It wasn't a glance this time. She stood there staring, seeing this figure of a girl in a white gown, not smiling, but not frowning, either. Lydia didn't move, she didn't look away, she didn't say anything to the others. If she looked away, the girl would be gone. If she said something to the others, they may not believe her, and they may not see what she saw. Lydia stood there in belief, not wanting anyone to be able to take that moment or that belief away from her. She raised her hand and wiggled her fingers in a slow goodbye, or maybe it was a hello. Either way, the girl in the window seemed satisfied with the response and turned to leave, but disappeared into thin air before leaving the frame of the window. She was all smoke and flickers of light, only existing in the frames of pictures and windows and the imagination of a little girl who wanted to believe. A ghost, a piece of history, an ancestor, fiction, a memory, a story to tell. Of all the things this girl could be, the most important is how she brought to life the art and mystery in Lydia Jane... and in you.
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