The House: Nellie

She knew the House was not sentient , not exactly, but it wasn’t just a building made of wood, mortar and nails either. Nellie was never quite sure how to explain the relationship she had with The House, but she knew it was a relationship, nonetheless. Over the decades she had become as much its keeper as it had become hers.  They had become partners of a kind.

il_570xN.783935227_11qyShe sat beside the fire in the private library off of her bedroom suite and contemplated the leather-covered dossier and the slim wooden box, made of wood so dark it was almost black, inlaid with scrollwork that mimicked waves and ocean currents. Miniscule gems of green and aqua highlighted the curves in the wood, making the box seem alive and touchable in a way inanimate objects should not be, at least not here in this mundane world.  Nellie ran her fingers across the design, not ready to open the box and see what was inside. She knew the what of its contents, just not what form it would take today.

The box was here beside her favorite chair on the little table with the pretty stained glass lamp she loved, where she sat every night to drink her glass of wine, write in her journal of the day’s events, read or on the rare occasion, entertain a guest.  On even more rare occasions she 87441c56e055a7deee896d14b6a8221dfound a box, an envelope or a gift for her. She always knew if it was for her or as was more often the case, meant to be given to the right person.  She felt her fingers on the amber drop she wore on a chair around her neck, which was always warmer than her skin temperature could account for. It pulsed slightly when her attention was brought to it, like a hello or a soft caress of greeting. The necklace had been the first gift she had received from The House so long ago and she never removed it. It was as much a part of her as her skin or sense of touch. The necklace had many purposes in her life, but at its core it was her companion and a physical reminder of her duties, which she loved, which was perhaps why she ended up here in the first place, wasn’t it?

It was time again. She had felt the house growing, shifting and making new rooms. It hadn’t bothered her, she had grown used to it and knew that it was getting both itself and her ready for a new adventure. She had felt the energy changing in the air and was herself, strung taught ready for the next step, and here it was. A new box, which meant a new project and if she was any judge (and she was) a new girl. She realized just then, that she might be bit lonely. Beneath her fingers she felt the warm pulse again and knew The House had known and that they were both ready for some company and a little purpose beyond the quiet life she had lived for some time now. How long had it been since the last time they had taken in guests? Fifteen? Maybe twenty years? Oh well, she’s check her journals if she really needed a date, suffice to say it had been some time and she was as ready…for what? Well, for change of course, that’s what they were in the business of, wasn’t it?

With that thought she pulled the dossier out from under the beautiful box and began to read about the first of what she knew, would be a collection of souls in need of a little push in this world.

Advertisements

Never Say Never (Mommy Game Part Two)

Yes, yes I know It is mid-may and I have failed abysmally at the April challenge, but it is safe to say I knew the month was going to to be difficult and failure was always an option. That’s okay,  life goes on beyond the month of April and I will at the every least finish this small tale.

N

Aiden and Mia were that rare couple that made Molly remember the church she grew up in. Not the parts that were easy to fall back upon, the cynical crutches of the Faithless, the ones that once wanted to believe, did believe, but lost faith due to corruption, greed and the common use of doctrine as a weapon for all tat wasn’t “right”..like her, she was never the right kind of girl. She had been baptized in front of her congregation in a marble pool set int he wall of a church so large it needed microphones and stage lighting. That was exactly what it had felt like, a staged event, not a private moment to recognize the divine in each of us but instead a gawdy show for an ever hungry audience. Yet even while that was all true there had still been those that were true to the heart of their Faith, a community and a culture within th larger performance that cared for what they did in this world. That had been what she craved and had never quite found a place within. She in stead, had been one of those stars on the Christmas tree, that well-off parishioners would claim with self-righteous ownership. The would claim their child and but the presents for those unfortunate souls in b=need of charity. She was their charity, their good deed.  Later she and her siblings would put on a show, both literally and figuratively, of their gratitude and thanks. That was an old wound that still sometimes festered and stirred the chip she still held,to gain in breadth and weight upon her shoulder but not today.

Today she met the other type, the ones that gave in a different and more true manner. They gave of themselves. The took in kids, kids like she once was. They took n children as troubled and broken as she was, as scared and abandoned as her sisters and brothers ahd been as well. More importantly that took the risk of such children into their homes. Yes, she had a sad story and so had her brethren; it easy to hide behind that sorry tale and pretend the facade of innocence and pain was all there was to it, but that wasn’t true. No one comes from the darkness unscathed. She had been a thief, a liar and quck to violence. Her fellows had been as bed or worse, depending on each of their paths. This couple kept taking them in, as if they were safe and worth loving. As if their home and children were not as risk. The cared for them as if they weren’t likely to leave and be put back into the homes that broke them. They fought for them.

Why? These people didn’t have the motivation of their own trauma to make them do this for others, they just did it. She didn’t understand. She had spent a lifetime learning how people worked and how to be a part of the world she saw on the other side of the glass, as a parent and adult. it was still a game sometimes, no matter how well she mimicked the ‘right” way to be.  Molly was fascinated  and awed in the way she had wanted to be, yet was never quite capable of, as she was dunked into blessed waters.

This wasn’t a game anymore. This was water she was willing to wade into, she wanted to understand.