There's something new about the old house, Maura muses as she walks through the rickety front foyer whose walls are stained and molded and where the air is stale and heavy. Her bones creak with the floorboards as she makes her way up the staircase.
(more) She visited the decrepit building every Sunday while the village was silent in prayer. She trailed her fingers along peeling paint and wallpaper, walking through each room.
She knew every inch of the old house by heart, could draw a blueprint from memory and could make a timeline of every event in her life that intersected with the history of the house. Knew the first floor from when she was young and too scared to travel far from the reaches of sunlight through the dusty, boarded up windows. She learned the second floor when she was a teenager, rebellious and proud enough to be fearless as she walked through the dark hallways and unlit rooms. And as she grew, slowly learning the harsh cruelty of the world, she also learned the shadowy secrets the house held. There was blood on the bottom step leading to the cellar and bones in a closet, eerie whispers from fireplaces, and portraits hung askew whose eyes followed you.
But this time, there was something new. The dust had moved and was slowly resettling as she walked, and she felt the disturbance before she found it. (less)
Ah, a fresh day. Birds in the sky, dogs in the grass, bugs in my closet.
This closet needs cleaned. People like me have clean closets. Neat, professional, punctional people. Punctional? On time, whatever the word is. That's what I am. That's what we are.
Too many(more) clothes. Green, and red, and blue, and blue and blue. Baby blue, navy blue, royal blue. I can tell the difference. Details. So important to people like me.
Settle for periwinkle and forest green. Bold, that's how people like me dress. Noticeable. Fashionly. I should be a fashion designer. No, not today. Today I'm in a hurry.
Shoes, shoes. Pink, I think, leather and all stitched with red. Thin laces dig into my fingers, but I gotta pull them tight. People like me wear tight shoes. Gotta keep our feet in good shape for walking. Protect them.
Glass snaps under my pink shoe from the picture frame I broke last night. Some old person, a real loser. People like me don't like losers, dirty old losers. People like me are punctional and bold, like fashion designers.
I'm a fashion designer, by the way. I work with a lot of really big names. You'd recognize them, probably. And I'd love to introduce you sometime. But not today. Today I'm in a hurry.
Hat, hat. Something bold, something punctional. Like an old movie star's hat. Very sharp. If I had a deck of cards, I'd put the nine of hearts in the brim.
Looks good in the mirror. Like a movie star. I'm a movie star too. I've worked with a lot of big names. You'd know them. Not today, though. Today I'm too busy for movie stars.
Phone's ringing. My old friend is calling me. I don't answer. People like me don't answer phones.(less)