House of RegretsA Story by quillofthothA house full of ghosts with their own story.I live in a house full of ghosts. On the porch sits Father, not my real one, I have not seen him in years. Father Joe; that’s what I call him. He sits waiting for his daughter who never came home. “Stop waiting." he tells me, as I move past. I enter the house to the living room where Grandpa Gray sits in his armchair. He can't remember his name, so I call him Gray because most of the ghosts are more silver than him. He turns the pages of his phantom book and as I go past, he calls "Remember, don't forget, remember it all.” Past another door is the dining room, containing May and Howard, a married couple that fight until dawn. Each fight ends with a reminder of how they died; they stab each other with their shadowy knives. They call to me to be careful who you love; they always say that. Mother Michelle stays in the kitchen, where she died by slitting her wrists after her husband left her. She stares at the wall, but as I enter, her eyes follow me."I gave up my life,” She whispers "don't give up your life." I nod to her, I always nod to her, as I turn to open the basement door. The voice that calls to me today is a woman’s. Another day it will be a man's or even a child’s, yet it always says the same words; ”Come down, I won't hurt you, come down." I don' t believe it. It could be harmless, just lonely, but I can't be sure. So I stay, I always stay. I close the door on the voice and go upstairs Grandma Lark tells me to “watch my step” from the bathroom floor; (she fell in the shower). I leave without answering her like everyday. Upstairs in the Attic is the little girl with the red line across her throat; she never says who did it, just asks me to play a game. I always do, and as I leave she tells me to “Forgive. People don't always mean the harm they cause,” She says. She's the last stop on my rounds. I now must head back to my room. There is one more in my closet, a remnant in the darkness. Although I open the door, it doesn't look up. It just weeps. It has lost anything it wanted to say, drowned it in its own sadness. After closing the last door, I sit. Tomorrow, I will rise again as the sun sets and walk through the house once more, all the ghosts will call to me hoping to teach me something they wish they had known. But they do not know, I cannot help them, I cannot free them from their cage. I am caught in the same trap as them, the same timeless loop. For the dead cannot change their ways, only the living can do that. © 2017 quillofthothReviews
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3 Reviews Added on February 27, 2017 Last Updated on February 27, 2017 Author
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