Shelter from the Coming Storm

by Diane Sprague

She knew that the first thing she must do was to find shelter from the storm. There was an abandoned house in the distance, and it was a place she had always wanted to explore. Even so, she felt reluctant to approach the house. It was an imposing structure, so old and foreboding. The wind and rain were increasing in intensity and she found herself heading towards the house. Flashes of lightening and loud growling thunder spurred her on closer to the place she so wanted and so dreaded to explore.

She stood before it. Someone is in there she whispered to herself. She felt she could not possibly enter but another loud thunderclap forced to her realize the inevitable. She had to enter. She tried to comfort herself by reminding herself that the house was abandoned, empty, alone but deep inside she knew better. She was trespassing and to do so when someone was there, hidden upstairs perhaps, was frightfully dangerous.

It was a large house, many stories high. It was dark blue, with numerous black shuttered windows. It stood alone in a forgotten section of a deep, unexplored forest. She always knew it was here, but often found that she forgot how to find it. Tonight was different; being lost in the storm brought it to her, even though she wanted so much to run away and leave the spookiness and otherness that permeated the structure. Tonight the elements left her no choice.

She opened the solid door and walked into the house. It was cold and musty, and in her uneasiness she stumbled and fell onto the floor. As she lifted herself up, she turned to leave, but she stopped. She felt incredible drawn to explore the many rooms. She felt somewhat calmed by the stillness and beauty of the home. It was inexplicably filled with furniture, art work, decorative knick-knacks, glassware, and embroidered cloths. She slowly walked through the rooms downstairs and observed the many items. This is an authentic home she thought and she felt the need to touch some of the objects.

From upstairs, far upstairs, she heard someone chanting. She froze. It soon stopped and the noise of the storm took over her consciousness. She tentatively walked forward a few steps into a cold, dark room. In the middle of the room was a large bed. An elderly woman was lying upon it. She was very sick

“I am dying,” the elderly woman cried. “Please help me. It hurts and I am alone.”

“I promise I will help you, but please tell me. Who else is here? Someone is upstairs. Why is she here?”

“Seek her out. She hides in the attic.”

“I cannot possibly…”

“But you must,” the elderly woman whispered. “This is your home. Don’t you think it is high time you dealt with the inhabitants?”

“My home?”

She backed away from the elderly woman.

She repeated her promise: “I will seek help.” She began to look for the stairs. She found them in the back of the house. They were narrow and led into a silent darkness. She had to climb them, but it was extremely difficult because with each step the presence in the attic grew stronger. She repeated to herself the message she received that this was her home. Her feelings of terror and dread were overwhelming, but somehow, her body found its way to the attic door. She slowly pushed the door open and found herself in what felt like a tomb. It was very old and it gave her the sense of being in another world, a remembered world.

Another old woman was sitting in a chair. She smiled a cruel smile. She knew that the visitor was disappointed by her appearance.

“Would you prefer a beast?” she asked and immediately changed into one. The visitor stepped back but she was not overly alarmed.

The visitor replied, “I don’t know. I don’t know who you are.”

The beast stood beside her. It was silent. It faded a bit and watched her from the perspective of something eternal.

The visitor asked, “Are there others in this house?”

The beast said nothing more. The storm outside was dying down. The visitor peered out the attic window and marveled at the height. She then went back downstairs.

“I must tend to my home,” she said. “It has been waiting for its owner, and now I have returned.”