8 Chapter 8: If these walls could talk, Part 2

When you say good night and close your bedroom door, you are not alone.When you walk into the darkened hallway, I am there.Turning the light on may comfort you but know that I am still there.Where else would I go?Where else can I go?

Over a century of living has filled this house, my house. and I can only observe as my world slowly disappears around me.First, the rose-petal wallpaper is peeled off in haste and the wall painted red.Did you know that my grandmother gave me that wallpaper as a wedding gift on my 1st anniversary?Do you care?Yes, I was married but where is he?How did he get beyond these walls?

I move freely here but my earthly body remains trapped within the walls, rotting and decomposing just beyond your Frigidaire.That dress, once white with bright daisies, now grey, covered in dust and plaster.My skin has rotted away or has been eaten by the squirrels and mice that live within your walls.They use my body as their nest.My chest that once contained a heart that loved, is now filled with broken wood and stolen scraps.A home to these dirty creatures.There is nothing I can do but watch my own decay.

The mice are unafraid of us.Scurrying through our soulless bodies.Would you run out of the house, my house, screaming if you knew where my body was?If you only knew just how close you sat by my rotting shell every day.From floor to ceiling and from the basement to the attic, our bodies are everywhere.Entrapped in this tomb you call home.You cleaned the "dust" from the concrete floor in the basement.But, the ashes from the lost little boy gone missing years ago still encrust those stone walls.His sister's bones lay buried under the rose garden in the backyard.For years, their father searched for his lost children, only to abandon this home with his wife, a mother who escaped this place but left behind a tragic secret.

The children still play here.Laughing in the halls during the day and crying at night, searching for their father and cowering in fear at the thought of seeing their mother.Can you hear them?Can you hear their cries, their laughter?Or is the sound coming from the speakers in your flat screen television too loud?No sound can drown out the pain.

Do you hear the screams next to the fireplace when you hang the garland across the mantel at Christmas?No, you sing carols and play holiday music.The poor mason is still trapped under a ghostly pile of bricks just at your feet.The original fireplace collapsed and killed one of the workmen.Did you know that?Can you feel the death that surrounds your happy home?The pumpkin and spice candle fills the room and comforts you.The scent is not strong enough to mask our sorrow.

You gather on the couch and hold your children close as you watch Christmas cartoons; not realizing how close I am.How close my body is to yours.Entrapped in the wall behind you.Right behind you.Touch the wall.Can you feel me just on the other side?

The ghostly siblings play in the toy room with your son's toys; sometimes breaking a leg off an action figure or hiding a Lego in the easy chair cushion.The brother, restless, watches your children play on their electronic devices.He has learned how to play those electronic games when the device is left on the kitchen counter, unattended.His favorite game- erase.Erase the games from the screen.

His sister likes to brush her hair, over and over again on an endless loop.Your hairbrush is her favorite.Nothing here belongs to only you.It is ours.What else do we have?

You clean and clean the house but the pain we feel is never washed away.As you sweep the living room floor near the fireplace, the mason reaches out to you for help, eternally trapped, crushed.He reaches for your ankles when you walk by with the broom.If you saw him would you help him?Would you help any of us?

Soon, your time will come and you will join us.One of you will not leave this house.This is what happens.The siblings cannot leave.The mason.Me.Trapped forever and left behind by anyone who knew us.The same will happen to one of you, whether by tragedy or planning, one of your bodies will remain.The mice entangle themselves between the plaster and lathe and wait for a fresh feast.Stolen bits of food and gnawing on my rotted bones are no longer satisfying for them.

One, maybe two, or perhaps all of you will stay, forever. Then you will understand.Finally, you will learn that you were never alone.A new family will move in.They will paint over your red walls and your history will be erased with one stroke of a brush.Erased, just like you did to me.

Fading away like the once bright white daisies on my dress, any trace of you will go.No one will remember you or care.Never existing.Like a ghost.

A Day in the Sun, Part 1

The Florida sun was especially bright that day.The humidity was so intense, it felt like we were walking through water.But that didn't matter because we were in the happiest place on earth and it was your first time there.It was going to be an incredibly magical day.

You were six years old then, Max.Your world consisted of Spider-Man, Spider-Man and more Spider-Man.You wore Spider-Man sneakers, blue shorts and a red shirt with black webs all over it.Your digital Spidey watch was secured to your wrist and you were prepared to battle the day with your sunglasses on in the shape of Spider-Man's eyes.My little super hero, ready to conquer the kingdom.

The boat met us and the other visitors at the dock of our resort.I remember the look on your face when we cleared the tall pine trees and you had your first view of the castle.You were so excited and you gave me the biggest hug.I can still feel your tiny arms around my neck.