Medium
by Ben Clayton
The house was a beautiful light blue. Exotic flowers and bushy trees surrounded the well landscaped
yard. Was this truly the house? Had they given me the
wrong address?
I was here. I might as well ring the doorbell.
Pressing the button, a light and friendly tune jingled in response.
I was in the wrong place. I had to be. I turned,
embarrassed, and began to walk away.
Click. The door unlocked.
“Hello? May I help you?” a young female voice
asked.
I turned slowly, my cheeks a shade of red. Before
me was a beautiful young Hispanic woman, with deep
dark eyes. Stuttering at first, I finally found my voice.
“I’m sorry to bother you. I’m certain that I have
the wrong address.”
I turned again
to leave.
“But, Mr.
Greeves. We’ve
been expecting
you.”
I stopped, my
feet frozen in place.
From what I had
heard, this could
not be the place.
How could this be
the house?
Turning back
slowly, I looked at
her with concern.
“Yes, Mr.
Greeves. Please.
Come in.”
Walking back
to the front, I took a
step inside, hesitating. It was nothing
similar to the outside. Cold and dark,
the light came from
candles on the walls
and tables. I had to
admit, it was more of what I had imagined, minus dust
and cobwebs.
“May I take your coat and your bag, Mr.
Greeves?” the young lady questioned.
I nodded.
“Just my coat please. I’d rather keep my bag.”
“As you wish,” she replied.
Taking my coat, she hung it in a large closet, and
closing that door, she stated, “Please follow me.” Picking up a candelabra from a nearby table, she walked
down a long, dark hallway. The shadows were ethereal
but moved strangely in respect to the light from the
candles. At the end of the hallway, the woman turned
right, and right again to descend a set of stairs into the
darkness.
Following closely, we reached the basement, our
footsteps echoing against rock floors and aged wooden
walls. I guessed that it would be a room at the end of the
hall. In the movies, it was always the room at the end of
the hall. The stains on the walls were mold, the damp
environment a protagonist for its birth.
I walked in her footsteps, afraid of ghostly dangers
that might not even be there... but what if they were?
After all, I was here for... Well. I was here. Seeming to
feel my concern, she looked to me and assured me with
her gaze, that I was safe.
At the end of the hall, as expected, she turned to
me and asked that I sit in a chair mimicking the color of
the walls and floor.
I looked to the chair, to the dank hallway and to
the wet light emanating in echo from the walls and back
to the candles. Slowly sitting, anticipating the chair to
be weak with decay, I found that I was incorrect and the
chair was in fact quite sturdy. My initial impression of
the house drifted away as I
began to realize, I was exactly
where I had intended to be.
The young woman cautiously entered the next room,
watching me carefully, as she
opened and partially entered
the door.
“Please wait here,” she said,
closing the door.
The door’s handle was
bronze and clean, gleaming in
the dank and dark hallway. Its
reflection from the dim light
made it flicker and change,
but still the gleam remained
the same. I stared at the handle for a time, and eventually
it began to turn. My heart
fluttered for a moment in
surprise and contemplation if
this was really what I wanted
to do. These things were highly regulated, or so I had heard,
because, in fact, anyone who
had done them never seemed
to have much to say on the
subject.
“It is a beautiful house.”
“The tea was lovely.”
“It was a fine experience.”
Only my friend had given me more, and he had
not given much.
“It’s never what it seems. Remain relaxed and accept the result. The worst that will happen is disappointment.”
The door opened and the young woman appeared.
“Mr. Greeves? Are you ready?”
I nodded, my hands twisting together nervously.
As I stood, the woman gestured for me to pass her and
enter. I did as she said, looking back only to see her
leave, closing the door behind her. In front of me were
dark curtains, perhaps velvet, crossing in an upside