Excerpt: The House in Elk

THE HOUSE IN ELK

Waking up with the remnants of the dream left in my head, I hovered in that place between wakefulness and sleep. The dream had been so clear that even in my somnolent state, knowing I was dreaming, I promised myself I would remember the dream clearly when I awoke. The dream had an ethereal feel, an otherworld, haunting charm. I wanted to remember it. Now, I shook my head, full of wisps of the quickly fading dream, like cobwebs, unable to remember much of it at all. An old quote from Shakespeare I had heard somewhere once, popped into my head. He had called it “The death of each day’s life.” That described the sleep visions I had just had. A glimpse into a life that was now gone.

I had fallen asleep while resting and staring at the forlorn houses I had found so unexpectedly. Looking at my feet while walking through unfamiliar woods, had made me dizzy. I hadn’t wanted to trip, but getting disoriented wasn’t hard for me to do. However, staring at my fee had given me no point of reference. Besides, I had wondered, how could I take any photos if I couldn’t look up long enough to see what there was to see here. I had forced myself to take a break, to look around and determine where I was.

The run-down, sagging, structure with the roof leaning crazily over the roof-line and partly onto the ground, was so unexpected, when I lifted my head, that I actually breathed “whoa” out loud. It was breathtaking simply by its very antiquity. It had an old world charm as if from another country and time. I had stared at this edifice, still breathing heavily from my exertion, with all kinds of questions racing around in my head.

Where had it come from? What was it doing hiding in the bramble choked weeds that were part of the forest growing up around it? I had noticed refuse all around, so obviously it wasn’t a total secret. It shouted out that it was lost and lonely just like all the homeless people that had obviously inhabited it. They had heard its lost and lonely cry as evidenced by all kinds of paraphernalia that lay strewn about.

This cast-off, derelict house had to have had a reason for being there other than to house the homeless and drug infected population. Staring at this “once upon a time home” I started to connect with it. I heard stirrings of its past glory whispering through the leaves of the trees that crowded all around. Was I hearing ghosts? Perhaps the souls of the past were still here, crowding around me? Maybe, I had been led to it because of my past lives whatever they were? They may have drawn me there, unknowingly on my part. What link did this house have to me? Something or nothing? Why did I identify with it? Why this sensation of empathy? Why was I still standing here staring at this run-down shack to the point my feet and legs were falling asleep?

With that last question still echoing in my mind, I shook myself and started to walk around the grounds, telling myself that I would just take a minute or two to see what I could see. Maybe I could find something to write a story about. I felt this tug inside my head that told me I probably had the beginnings of my next novel standing in front of me. Wow. I had literally stumbled right over it.

Trespassing never entered my head as I sensed my affinity with this house. The thought that I could run into a feral animal that would harm me didn’t occur to me either. There was a human population that could injure me to, evidenced by all the trash littering the area.

With a part of my mind, I still felt caution, but the more immediate part of my mind wanted to embrace this house as if it did belong to me. The longer I stood there, the more I felt a sense that it was mine. The house was calling to me.

I cautioned myself to remember that someone must own this property, that I had to make an effort to track down the owners before I walked all over their land, but those thoughts quickly faded because I just wanted to take a few minutes and soak up the feel of the place.

I rounded the corner of what had once been the paved courtyard evidenced by broken paving stones and bricks, and gasped in surprise. Hiding behind the first house was a second house. Just as run down and derelict as the first one, but as different from its neighbor as possible. I felt more stirrings in the pit of my stomach. Definitely a story was here waiting for me to bring it out.

The first house, that had held my attention, had been white, once upon a time, and now was a dirty pealing, unattractive weathered grey. The roof was a deep royal blue. I had seen that plainly because of the part of the roof that had sunk into the ground. Where were the window boxes and shutters I wondered, not really questioning how I knew there had been window boxes and shutters. I just knew there had been, once.

The second house, also had been white and was now the same unappealing grey with moss growing on it, but it had had a red roof. Now it was just a faded rust color. Both were cottage type houses.

What more was there to find in these woods I had wondered as I circled both houses two or three times, looking for clues to their stories. I had taken a moment to sit with my back against a tree and quickly dozed off. That’s when the beautiful dream started.

Not knowing how long I had been asleep, I decided I would return another day and look around inside the houses. I wanted to gain a feel of their previous owners. Right now it was getting late into the afternoon and I needed to go home to my family and see that they were taken care of.