Chapter 2 - Watching
Oliver
By now, it's instinct to go to my hiding spot when people are in the house. Even though they can't see me, and they won't see me, it's just easier to hid than to there with them looking right through me. However, after a few long minutes of silence from downstairs, I decide it's probably safe to come out. I creep from my hiding spot, close the door soundlessly behind me, and float to the attic door.
Yeah. Float. You didn't read that wrong.
I normally don't, since it's not like I have to. I just prefer to do so when people are in the house, so my footsteps don't scare them. Since, y'know, they can't exactly see me, and that would be unnatural. It''s one of the perks of being what I am - whatever I am. I feel like I'm as close to a ghost as I can be. I'm visible when I want to be. At least, I think so. I can see myself in mirrors and whatever. I try not to let people see me. Sometimes I can touch stuff, but it usually takes a lot of concentration. I can open doors, since, no, I can't go through them. I can touch objects, but not people. At least, I don't think I can. Since I tried last time, I haven't had any desire to try to touch a human again.
I open the attic door as slowly and softly as I can and shut it in the same manner before drifting down the attic stairs.
Peering down into the foyer, I see a woman pacing on the stone floor. It's the same woman I've seen here many times, the landlady. I've never tried to make contact with her. In fact, I haven't tried that in years. Even if I did, I wouldn't do it to her. She already seems fidgety enough, so she doesn't need me breathing down her neck. I'm about to go back to the attic when a cold thought shivers through me.
Crap. Crap.
Did I lock my room?
As soon as it crosses my mind, a knock sounds through the house. I instinctively duck away, pressing myself against the wall of the upstairs hallway as the woman, after some hesitation, opens the door. In the flurry of anxious thoughts rushing around in my head, I miss the first words of the woman's greeting to the person on the other side of the door. I'm only brought out of my daze when a new voice, one I've never heard, enters the house.
The voice, light, airy, English, echoes in my mind. It holds a warmth that makes it seem familiar and comfortable to anyone who hears it. It doesn't surprise me, really. The landlady has brought people here to look at the house before, trying to get someone to sell it to. However I have a feeling that when this foreigner gets a look at the music room, they'll be out the door in no time.
"Mind clear, Oliver," I think to myself, "Focus. You have to lock your room."
But I can't. Not with them in the foyer. I wait around, willing them to leave the general vicinity of the downstairs hallway. I accidentally forget to remain floating, slowly drifting down until my right foot rests on the floor, making the wood beneath it creak. I'm instantly in the air again, hoping my unwanted visitors don't think anything of the sound.
Then I hear them coming up the stairs.
I flatten myself closer against the wall, if possible. The landlady and guest pass by me easily on their way to the attic, and I take a glance at them as they do. I catch a glimpse of dark orange hair before the pair disappear into the upper level of the house.
I hurry downstairs and through the hall, straight to the door of my room. I test the knob, finding it unlocked. Relieved that I remembered in time, I let out a small whoosh of air. I tug a thin cord from around my neck, a key dangling at the end of it. I slide the key into the lock and turn, securing the door and the secrets behind it.
I stop floating now, too overcome with relief to keep it up. I sit Indian-style on the stone of the hallway, listening to my unwanted guests walk around upstairs. Deciding that the risk would be greater to try to sneak past them, I opt for waiting it out. I lean back against my door and close my eyes.
They're back downstairs sooner than I expect. The woman speaks to the guest, explaining the layout of the house. They stroll down the hallway, having seen the living room. I stand up, realizing I'm in the path to the kitchen door. I take a few steps back towards the stairs when the pair turn the come into view.
My eyes widen when they land on the guest. It's just a girl. She couldn't be any older than I suggest myself to be. Her hair hangs in slightly uneven waves just above her shoulders, the orange bright against the grey of her jacket. I stop myself from sucking in a breath as she reaches out, nearly shoving her hand right through me. I move just in time, watching her hand close around the doorknob to my room. She tries it, unsuccessfully, and I can't see her face because I'm halfway to the stairs by now.
I hear the woman reply to the girl's confusion brought on by my room. "Oh, that door has been locked ever since my mother owned the place."
Yup, and it's gonna stay that way so long as you two are in here.
I'm about to head upstairs when I notice them about to step into the music room. I shouldn't. I know I shouldn't, but curiosity gets the better of me. I want to see how this girl reacts to it.
I drift after them, following behind the girl as she enters the room. As soon as I'm in, I float up to the tall ceiling, just in case one of the two women decide they want to step through me.
I watch the girl as she looks around the room, wall to wall, a pleasant look of awe gracing her face. Her gaze lands on the bay window, or whatever is left of it.
I don't get the reaction I've grown used to.
"Oh dear," the girl breathes, but her voice doesn't even hint at distress. It carries a strange, lingering amazement. She steps toward the gap, and I can't help but drift closer to her. It's not as if she can see me anyway.
I wonder now what on earth she could be doing here. She can't be older than a college student. Now, up close, I notice her more minute details. Light freckles form galaxies along the bridge of her nose, her cheeks, the edges of her forehead. Amber eyes gaze forward, sparkling with something so like enchantment. I take a short breath and move away a bit, out of her proximity.
Floating back, I'm filled with a new relief. She can't be buying the house. No way a college student has the money for it, especially with the repairs it needs.
The tip of my foot brushes the tangle of vines on the floor, disrupting a mother bird in her nest. She flies up quickly, fleeing through the window. I look after the bird apologetically, knowing full well she can't see me. The girl jumps a bit, startled, while the landlady reacts similarly from the doorway. The scene doesn't scare the girl off, though. She reaches the window and leans in to stare out.
I don't see what she finds so captivating. This house is literally in shambles. The walls are washed of color, the air is dank, there's an enormous hole in the wall that lets in creatures from outside. Despite all of that, here she is grinning like a child, amazed at the sights she sees.
She moves to the piano, tampers with the lid, runs a thin finger along the keys. She plays a few, eyes widening. "It's in tune."
"Of course it's in tune," I muse, "Who do you think does everything around here?"
I don't pay attention to their conversation. I'm too busy watching her fingers over the keys. The tune is choppy from years of neglecting practice, but it isn't the sound that catches my attention. The way she moves her fingers is so strange. Almost as if, even if she isn't sure what she's doing or if she's doing it right, she fully trusts her movements. There's no hesitation at all.
I've never seen anything like it.
She slides the lid back over the keys and spins in a slow circle. She shuts her eyes. that small, knowing smile still gracing her lips.
"I'll take it."
Something in me shatters. I lift slowly off the floor, away, far away from the piano, the girl, the landlady. I float backwards until my back hits the wall.
She can't be serious. She can't be buying the house. If she does, that means that I...
Well, what does that leave for me?
The rest of their exchange is a blur. I don't listen. I'm too busy dealing with the thoughts washing over my mind.
There will be someone in the house at all times.
She'll change things.
She'll let other people in.
The house will be fixed and I'll never be alone again.
What if they find out that I'm here?
A small pained noise let out through my mouth and I clamp my hand over it, startled.
"No big deal," I tell myself, trying to calm down. "I'll just have to find a way to make her leave."
I glance at her again, staring at her back. She radiates joy, nearly bouncing on her toes. The landlady offers to walk her out, and the girl moves to follow before glancing back into the room. She doesn't look at me directly, but her exuberant expression softens, threatening to fade into something darker, unsure. She moves into the hallway, closing the door behind her.
"Oh, yeah," I think, "She'll be easy to scare away."
(((Woah, calm down there, Oliver. No need to sound so creepy. I decided to upload these chapters together, since they overlap. However, I think in the future that the two perspectives will occur over different times, switching between Doddie and Oliver. We'll see. I also want to add more of Oliver's story, since he's sorta in the dark right now, poor thing. I hope you enjoyed these little snippets. Again, no proof-read, so please don't judge for errors. Also, what even is correct spacing. Idfk. -Liz)))
Did I lock my room?
As soon as it crosses my mind, a knock sounds through the house. I instinctively duck away, pressing myself against the wall of the upstairs hallway as the woman, after some hesitation, opens the door. In the flurry of anxious thoughts rushing around in my head, I miss the first words of the woman's greeting to the person on the other side of the door. I'm only brought out of my daze when a new voice, one I've never heard, enters the house.
The voice, light, airy, English, echoes in my mind. It holds a warmth that makes it seem familiar and comfortable to anyone who hears it. It doesn't surprise me, really. The landlady has brought people here to look at the house before, trying to get someone to sell it to. However I have a feeling that when this foreigner gets a look at the music room, they'll be out the door in no time.
"Mind clear, Oliver," I think to myself, "Focus. You have to lock your room."
But I can't. Not with them in the foyer. I wait around, willing them to leave the general vicinity of the downstairs hallway. I accidentally forget to remain floating, slowly drifting down until my right foot rests on the floor, making the wood beneath it creak. I'm instantly in the air again, hoping my unwanted visitors don't think anything of the sound.
Then I hear them coming up the stairs.
I flatten myself closer against the wall, if possible. The landlady and guest pass by me easily on their way to the attic, and I take a glance at them as they do. I catch a glimpse of dark orange hair before the pair disappear into the upper level of the house.
I hurry downstairs and through the hall, straight to the door of my room. I test the knob, finding it unlocked. Relieved that I remembered in time, I let out a small whoosh of air. I tug a thin cord from around my neck, a key dangling at the end of it. I slide the key into the lock and turn, securing the door and the secrets behind it.
I stop floating now, too overcome with relief to keep it up. I sit Indian-style on the stone of the hallway, listening to my unwanted guests walk around upstairs. Deciding that the risk would be greater to try to sneak past them, I opt for waiting it out. I lean back against my door and close my eyes.
They're back downstairs sooner than I expect. The woman speaks to the guest, explaining the layout of the house. They stroll down the hallway, having seen the living room. I stand up, realizing I'm in the path to the kitchen door. I take a few steps back towards the stairs when the pair turn the come into view.
My eyes widen when they land on the guest. It's just a girl. She couldn't be any older than I suggest myself to be. Her hair hangs in slightly uneven waves just above her shoulders, the orange bright against the grey of her jacket. I stop myself from sucking in a breath as she reaches out, nearly shoving her hand right through me. I move just in time, watching her hand close around the doorknob to my room. She tries it, unsuccessfully, and I can't see her face because I'm halfway to the stairs by now.
I hear the woman reply to the girl's confusion brought on by my room. "Oh, that door has been locked ever since my mother owned the place."
Yup, and it's gonna stay that way so long as you two are in here.
I'm about to head upstairs when I notice them about to step into the music room. I shouldn't. I know I shouldn't, but curiosity gets the better of me. I want to see how this girl reacts to it.
I drift after them, following behind the girl as she enters the room. As soon as I'm in, I float up to the tall ceiling, just in case one of the two women decide they want to step through me.
I watch the girl as she looks around the room, wall to wall, a pleasant look of awe gracing her face. Her gaze lands on the bay window, or whatever is left of it.
I don't get the reaction I've grown used to.
"Oh dear," the girl breathes, but her voice doesn't even hint at distress. It carries a strange, lingering amazement. She steps toward the gap, and I can't help but drift closer to her. It's not as if she can see me anyway.
I wonder now what on earth she could be doing here. She can't be older than a college student. Now, up close, I notice her more minute details. Light freckles form galaxies along the bridge of her nose, her cheeks, the edges of her forehead. Amber eyes gaze forward, sparkling with something so like enchantment. I take a short breath and move away a bit, out of her proximity.
Floating back, I'm filled with a new relief. She can't be buying the house. No way a college student has the money for it, especially with the repairs it needs.
The tip of my foot brushes the tangle of vines on the floor, disrupting a mother bird in her nest. She flies up quickly, fleeing through the window. I look after the bird apologetically, knowing full well she can't see me. The girl jumps a bit, startled, while the landlady reacts similarly from the doorway. The scene doesn't scare the girl off, though. She reaches the window and leans in to stare out.
I don't see what she finds so captivating. This house is literally in shambles. The walls are washed of color, the air is dank, there's an enormous hole in the wall that lets in creatures from outside. Despite all of that, here she is grinning like a child, amazed at the sights she sees.
She moves to the piano, tampers with the lid, runs a thin finger along the keys. She plays a few, eyes widening. "It's in tune."
"Of course it's in tune," I muse, "Who do you think does everything around here?"
I don't pay attention to their conversation. I'm too busy watching her fingers over the keys. The tune is choppy from years of neglecting practice, but it isn't the sound that catches my attention. The way she moves her fingers is so strange. Almost as if, even if she isn't sure what she's doing or if she's doing it right, she fully trusts her movements. There's no hesitation at all.
I've never seen anything like it.
She slides the lid back over the keys and spins in a slow circle. She shuts her eyes. that small, knowing smile still gracing her lips.
"I'll take it."
Something in me shatters. I lift slowly off the floor, away, far away from the piano, the girl, the landlady. I float backwards until my back hits the wall.
She can't be serious. She can't be buying the house. If she does, that means that I...
Well, what does that leave for me?
The rest of their exchange is a blur. I don't listen. I'm too busy dealing with the thoughts washing over my mind.
There will be someone in the house at all times.
She'll change things.
She'll let other people in.
The house will be fixed and I'll never be alone again.
What if they find out that I'm here?
A small pained noise let out through my mouth and I clamp my hand over it, startled.
"No big deal," I tell myself, trying to calm down. "I'll just have to find a way to make her leave."
I glance at her again, staring at her back. She radiates joy, nearly bouncing on her toes. The landlady offers to walk her out, and the girl moves to follow before glancing back into the room. She doesn't look at me directly, but her exuberant expression softens, threatening to fade into something darker, unsure. She moves into the hallway, closing the door behind her.
"Oh, yeah," I think, "She'll be easy to scare away."
(((Woah, calm down there, Oliver. No need to sound so creepy. I decided to upload these chapters together, since they overlap. However, I think in the future that the two perspectives will occur over different times, switching between Doddie and Oliver. We'll see. I also want to add more of Oliver's story, since he's sorta in the dark right now, poor thing. I hope you enjoyed these little snippets. Again, no proof-read, so please don't judge for errors. Also, what even is correct spacing. Idfk. -Liz)))
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