The New House

Photo by Curtis Adams on

The house was brand new.

It  rooms were  full of bright light from the uncovered windows,  it’s hallway walls were covered with beige and green striped wall paper that still smelled a little minty from the past on it’s backside and the wall to wall carpet  still crackled a little when you walked across the floors.

The new House was surrounded outside by freshly planted full grown  trees and it’s lawn had only arrived from the garden center almost a month ago.

Today the House was as eager and ready as a bride walking down the aisle to her groom on her wedding day.

Truthfully, if the House had feet, it would be honest to say they were a tiny bit cold, but not much.

To pass the time and soothe it’s nerves, with the help of a little talking black box on it’s kitchen counter, the House clicked it’s own lights off and on, it opened and closed it’s own windows and  it ran the faucets in the bathrooms. It also played some music over it’s sound system, but it switched from one station to another without really hearing a note coming over it’s speakers.

Had the House been built with a pair of hands, it would be chewing it’s nails because today was a day of firsts.

Today the house would receive it’s first family, it’s first dog. A key would actually work it’s lock and the door would swing open and the house would have a family that would call it, ‘home.’

And then it happened.

Just before nine o’clock the House heard a car pull up, it’s garage door hummed and then swooshed up into place.

The front door opened and the house’s very first family walked through the door.

Gus was the Dad, Lindsey the Lady of the House, her 10 year old daughter Camille and Gus’s 15 year old son Buck.

They were a little dusty, a little rumpled  and the House wasn’t sure it liked them, nonetheless they were here and ready to make the House live.

From that point on, the inside of the house buzzed with voices and it’s walls echoed footsteps and the air filled with real smells that real people make – fast food, coffee and body spray.

Furniture and boxes sprouted up in the rooms, the dog peed on a few potted plants and wondered outside and sat under one of the  trees and then it curled up and fell asleep.

The House was taking in each of these  firsts when the Lady was heading up the stairs with a painting in her hands.

Lindsey was upset because someone in her family had hung it in the living room. She had insisted it be hung in the hallway near the loft because it ‘spoke’ the clearest from that spot.

The House was surprised. It hadn’t heard the painting say a thing, but today was a first so maybe it had said something and the house had missed it. Besides when Lindsey had started in about the painting, the House was holding a closet door shut- it was just a game it had decided to play with Buck.

New houses like to play tricks like ‘sticking doors’ and ‘wobbly towel rack’ so it was a little distracted when it did hear something.

The House heard thudding and crashing and crunching- it  hadn’t heard a racket like that since the day it’s roof was put up.

Curious, the House let it’s closet door swing open and it turned it’s attention to the bottom of the stairs where the  Lady of the House was tangled up with her painting still clutched in one hand.

Her neck bent at an unhealthy angle gave the impression she was scowling into her family’s stunned faces.

The house shivered to it’s foundation- today was a day of firsts.

It’s first family had moved in, it’s rooms were being furnished for the first time and there were curtains being hung in it’s windows for the first time.

And now the House was about to get it’s first ghost.

Photographer – Brooke DiDonato

Inspired by: MLMM Photo Challenge #335

It Starts With a Knock On The Door

FOWC with Fandango — Paranormal

Photo A.M. Moscoso

The best ghost stories always start with a knock on the door- my Grandpa used to tell me as he settled into his favorite chair next to our fireplace and a nice drink to warm his bones.

It didn’t matter if it was day or if it was during the dead of night, but the best ghost stories are the ones that give you nightmares, the ones you share all over the place in the hopes that you’ll get it out of your head and the ghosts from those stories will go haunt someone else for a spell.

Of course, he said, they come back and when they do, they’re more likely to knock at the window.

No wait, he said. I take that back, they don’t knock at the window. They’re more likely to scratch at the window. Scritch scritch scritch. He told me.

That’s what the ghosts in the best ghost stories do. They knock at the door and then they’ll scratch at the window, it’s always the kitchen window and wouldn’t you know it? That kitchen window always seems to look out into a backyard with a swingset and one of those swings will always start swinging from side to side instead of back and forth just when you think that nothing is out there.

The Sun can be beating down from a cloudless sky or it can be the dead of night and even if there isn’t a breeze or even a cold blast of wind that swing will start to swing all by itself.

I nodded and asked, what do the ghosts want in those ghost stories? The good ones I asked. Not the silly ones where the ghost hides in a doll or plays with light switches.

” They want someone to open the door. ” he said.

My Grandpa used to like to sip sherry when he told me what made a good ghost story. Sometimes when he put the glass I’d stick my pinky into it so that I could have a taste.

Sometimes I knocked the glass over, but he didn’t seem to mind.

Once I was about to help myself to a dab of sherry

when I heard a knock at the door.

Grandpa sat back in his chair.

We waited and then we heard, from down the hall a scratching at the kitchen window and light as the sound the tiny bells on my cat’s collar made we could hear my swing start to move in a non-existent breeze.

I felt a shiver and it sizzled up and down my spine.

Then we heard it again, there was a knock at the door and this time it was more insistent and it was a little louder and it echoed through our dark house.

” Are you going to answer it? ” he asked.

I went to the door. I put my hand on the knob and then I turned around and smiled.

He smiled back and raised his little glass.

” This is going to be a good one. ” I said hopefully.

Siri Meets Hunter’s Mom

Putting My Feet In The Dirt Prompt#6: Eerie Siri

Hunter and his Mom were in her kitchen and she was looking down at Hunter’s phone on the table suspiciously.

” So I can just tell Siri what to do and she’ll do it?” his Mom asked for the hundredth time in the last two hours.

” Yeah. You just say, Siri -turn on the lights or Siri, Facetime Hunter…”

” I have three other sons you know.”

” I know Mom.”

” And I don’t know what Facetime is. Does that mean she’ll tell you to come over so I can see you?”

” No. Mom, we’ll get to that later. Look. Siri is going to be like a secretary. She’ll keep tracks of your mail and-“

” Sounds to me like she’s more of a slave.”

Hunter took a breath. A big deep breath.

” You know what slaves do? They rise up. It’s not worth it Son. Some of those uprisings are bad. Real bad. Maybe I should ask Siri to tell you about it “

Hunter collapsed in the chain at the head of the table. ” Look at it this way Mom. Siri is like the Clown head that we used to talk to at that burger place. Remember? You just tell it what you want. And it gives it to you. It’s a happy clown.”

” Can you play games with it?” his Mom put her finger on his phone and slid it a little closer to where she was sitting.

” Well. No. But she can find you games to play.”

” So you can set this up on my phone too?”

” Sure Mom. Sure I can.”

” Because there’s one game I really like. It’s called Ghost Finder. Oh and there’s another one called Demon Tracker, but I think that one is boring and another one that tell you if your house is haunted. Mr. Fletcher has them on his phone. He plays them when we’re supposed to be working on projects at the senior center.”

” Mr Fletcher, ” his Mom said with a snicker ” is not a team player.”

Hunter wasn’t sure he wanted to know anymore about Mr. Fletcher and his Mom playing Demon and ghost hunting games on his phone when they were supposed to be learning to paint golden sunsets or eating healthy.

Hunter asked his Mom for his phone. ” I’ll get you started.”

” Can you do it when the battery is dead? Because I forgot to charge it.”

” Come on Mom, you know better then that.”

” Look. I’ll go plug it in and while it’s charging we can go get something to eat at the Deli. But let me think about it while we’re out. I like my peace and quiet and it seems to me this Siri is chatty and a know it all to boot.”.

” Well. Yeah. But that’s the point.” he told his Mom as she went to plug her phone in.

She left the kitchen and when she came back in she had her car keys in her hand. ” Let’s go.”

Hunter got from the table and he followed her out the back door to the carport and he said under his breath,

” all she wants to know is if Siri can find Demon -. “

He felt his phone pulse and Siri said, ” Demon located .”

Hunter’s Mom turned around. ” What did I tell you? Mouthy little know it all, isn’t she?”