Old Old House...Part 4

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…It was dark.

It was extremely dark.

It suddenly dawned on me that I had been asleep, but as long as I was asleep, it should have been daylight by the time I awoke. Either this was not where I had slept, or there was another idea about daylight, I felt heat on my back, and in my mouth a dry thirst like I had never known before.

So I am left alone in the desert, parched.

But the four walls that once held me, now they start to recede.

I could not have known…

I was once in my little old old room, where I grew up

But this is not it. I awoke in a black and cold cell,

I could hardly move.

The darkness more dark than a boarded up theatre, darker than the receded eyes of Mu.

I listened for a moment. Nothing but the scarce shuffle of insect legs, gnawing of rats in the walls.

I panicked. Only for a moment.

Then I realized where I was. I was there.

I was in 1608. The old old house.

I felt suddenly warm, warmed like I was,

Like I was home.

Home for the first time since going home…how is that? Why?

I felt safe enough to venture out of the door.

Without a sound I went down the dark hallway. I knew this place once , once.

That door. In the corner of the kitchen. It goes downstairs into the basement. I can swear that the frame the door frame is breathing, at least expanding. I swore I saw the door

Going in and out.

Like the invisible hand that exists where it does not really exist, I was shoved toward the door.

And down a ricketed splintered Jacobs ladder

That led down into the blackest depths

That’s the basement.

The killing floor

They are swarming. Can you hear something swarming?

This is it.

A single chair on that floor sits facing the wall.

I suppose I should sit.

You can hear that swarming cant you?

In the corner. Oily rags or a cast off tarps

It stirs. And something is rising. It is a familiar frame.

Arms, neck, trunk. Its rising. But like frames were dropped out.

Where there should be a face there is caved in, a pumpkin left on the porch a week past Halloween.

And did it try to cry out?

I did not want to hear it.

It did try to cry out.

And at me it was moving toward, I must have done something.

I did that to it.

Stems. Arms. There were ropes familiar like in my dreams. No bricks, they were rotten.

The stairs could never hold me.

The door shut itself, the breathing the only breathing that was by the door has ceased.

Shut.

I am alone with it.

And it moves toward me.

I will not turn around.

I feel the rancid exhaust that was breathing against me.

I am colden.

I am

Overcome.

I did it.

I did it.

I did it.

Please make

Her let go.