The sun had been shining
as I pulled up the driveway,
but as I parked and got out of my car
a cloud crossed over the sun.
The sudden shadow
threw a chill over me
as I approached the front door
and fumbled in my pocket for keys
to the house.
I crossed the threshold,
closed the door behind me,
a crash of thunder
overpowered the sound
of the latch hitting home.
I looked around the front hall,
getting familiar,
I had never been here before.
The house was massive,
a mansion built back
when the word mansion meant something.
But the house had been empty for years,
its beauty faded over time,
the tattered remnants of its former glory
lying scattered at my feet.
I almost wept.
Somehow, the faded curtains,
the broken and dust covered furniture,
saddened me more
than all the sappy movies I had ever seen,
tore at my heart more
than all the stores of lost love I had ever read.
Outside, the rain began,
as if in tandem with my mood.
I could hear it tapping on the roof,
see it rolling down the windows,
but there were no leaks,
the ceiling remained dry.
Old and worn, but not yet broken,
there was still a bit of life
to this place.
I grabbed my bags, found my way upstairs,
found a bedroom, thickly covered with dust.
This would do for tonight,
I was too tired to clean,
the morning would be soon enough.
It was still fairly early
but it had been a long day
of driving to get here,
and the storm outside darkened the sky,
making it hard to see.
There was no electricity here,
and the realty company hadn’t bothered
with upkeep for a long time.
Nobody was interested in buying this place,
which why they were thrilled
to let me have it for the weekend,
the first perspective buyer
in a decade or more.
In the dust and premature gloom
I unrolled my sleeping bag,
getting ready to pass the night,
here in this dark, dank, room,
in this old, run-down house
the size of a small motel.
I suddenly realized,
I had no idea why I was here,
why I had felt drawn to this place
from the moment I heard about it.
All I knew, is that I had been compelled to come,
and once here,
felt more at home than I had in years.
Lighting flashed occasionally
outside the window,
often enough to allow me to see what I was doing
without resorting to the lantern I had brought.
As the storm continued outside
the storm within my soul
settled for the first time,
and I slept.
Sometime later, I have no idea what time,
time didn’t seem to have meaning here,
I woke, there had been a noise.
Outside the bedroom door,
a footstep,
but that was impossible,
I was the only one here.
My mind raced,
could the reality company have sent somebody?
Possibly to check on me?
I doubted it,
nobody would come here.
Maybe, this was it,
what I had heard about,
the reason this place was empty.
The footsteps stopped,
the doorknob rattled,
I lied back down, closed my eyes,
tried to slow my ragged breathing,
my rapid heartbeat.
The door opened,
I wanted to look, didn’t dare,
I waited, for what though,
I had no idea.
Then, my blanket was pulled up
tight against my chin,
and I felt a cool hand smooth my hair.
That was it, somehow I knew,
whatever had been there was gone.
This is what I had heard about,
the ghost that still walked this place.
This is why nobody would buy this place,
nobody would even step inside.
The stories of how the ghost
would terrorize anyone
who spent the night,
the ghost that drove people away.
I had been drawn here,
without knowing why,
and it seemed I was accepted here as well.
There was no more sleep for me that night,
not from fear of my ghostly visitor,
but because my mind was filled with plans.
Plans for buying this place,
the price, after years of desertion was reasonable,
and plans for restoration.
For the first time in years
I looked forward to the future,
I hadn’t know it when I heard about this place,
nor when I first walked in it,
but I had found here,
what I needed most of all.
I have found here,
a home.