Haunted

Ever since nine of us came to live here, we haven’t seen silence in this house. This isn’t entirely surprising. Rather, it would be eerie to find the house a peaceful abode. Still, I call this place home.

I’ve lived here for the past six years, just out of university. My parents were far too old and frail to be left to the hands of my younger sister, and I was around and working from home, so I took the reins.

For a long time, it was only the four of us in a three bedroom house, until my brother came back home from university and my older sister moved to town seven months ago.

Of course, she brought along her husband and two kids, so that took up the rest of the space. This year, the house was renovated to accommodate a large family like ours. My parents had the money and considered it an investment, so it was no bother – only a few noisy months and a week of hotel stays.

Now this house creeks and croaks of new piping and modern equipment at every moment of every day. We’ve gotten used to it, and it’s gotten used to us. This is our new normal.

However, this evening is different. The nieces and their parents are at a school function, the grandparents are at bridge club, driven there by the younger brother and the little sister is off at a friend’s house. I’m here, all alone at home.

Currently, my eyes are fixed to the blank wall as it creaks and croaks of its own volition. I am home alone, so there is no chance the nieces are working up another riot. I sift through reasons that may be causing this noise as I stand frozen in place, listening to the wall grow in confidence. This is not a noise I could ever attribute to a faulty pipe.

The noise howls deep and bold, emanating from the interior of the house. It gets louder and louder, until, to my relief, it stops.

I give it a few moments before I decide that It’s probably windy outside and the window must not be sealed correctly. It’s night time, I’m spooked and the house has never been this quiet. Additionally, the pipes are always croaking, so this isn’t exactly uncommon. It is a newly renovated house, afterall.

I turn on my heels and fall over backwards, startled by the figure standing directly behind me, watching me intently. She looks very similar to me, only her hair is coily more than it is curly and her skin is darker. In fact, she looks like a more beautiful, flawless version of me.

And something else. Her nose is smaller and her chin narrower. Is she… Younger than me?

“Who. Ar-” I begin to breathe

“I can’t believe it. You can see me!” She exclaims and looks down at her hands with a grin. “That was quick.”

I watch the stranger as she studies her hands, smile growing, betrayed by a faltering on the left side of her face. As she grins, her features remain flawless, unwrinkled. Her eyes are clearly larger than mine, and her forehead is as short as mine used to be…

“Are you a child?” I blurt

“What? The fuck, what?” She regurgitates defensively. “No, what the hell. I’m not a child. I’m Seventeen.” She rolls her eyes and turns away, taking a few steps in stride. I don’t miss the pronounced call to God in frustration and I can’t help but release a nervous giggle. This is the strangest thing I’ve ever seen through, for sure.

I shake my head lightly and take initiative. “Who the hell are you?”

It takes me a full three seconds of eye contact and racing thoughts before I update my line of questioning “Why are you in my house”

No, hold on, “How did you get in?”

The young brat rolls her eyes and fixes her gaze on me for a few moments. For sure this kid is this close to throwing a tantrum, which is a very seventeen-year-old way to think about an event as ludacris as this. This time, I can’t help but giggle in awe.

This kid is in my house, uninvited, God knows how she got in, she’s a younger looking version of me and she acts like it too. What on earth?

“So typical of you humans. Of course you think this is your house. It’s not, I live here too. God, you’d think you’d never read about your religion.” she scoffs and continues to walk around the living room, confirming she’s positioned her back to me.

“Come again? You live where?”

She twists quickly to face me and bellows “Here. I live HERE.”

My eyes flare open before she mutters out loud “Honestly you’re so slow, what’s going on with everyone today?”

I stare at this random kid in my house, unsure what to say to that, clearly taken aback. I know she’s seventeen, but seriously?

“I’m sorry, that was rude.” She exhales and turns her back towards me once more. Her eyes remain fixed to the floor as she explains herself. “I just had a fight with my mom, so I’m still pissed. I know you can’t see us so I’m not surprised.”

“Sorry, who’s us?”

“My family and I, My kind, any of us.”

She stares at me expectantly. “You know?”

A heartbeat passes before she decides I do not, in fact, know.

“Djinn?”

I lift my eyebrows and open my mouth. This girl can’t possibly expect me to believe her. Although it wouldn’t be the craziest thing in the world. The noise, the way she looks, dark and flawless like her skin was burnt into natural beauty, her reaction to my shock.

I straighten my posture and fold my arms. Unsure what to say, I decided my safest best was to be the adult that I am.

“Why were you fighting with your mom?” If she’s being honest as my intuition believes, then I’m still the oldest in the room.

“Oh, well she didn’t want me coming here. It’s against the law. But that’s so close minded, you know? So many rules all the time.” She’d begun pacing back and forth over quick, short steps. Her rage, and what I can only possibly assume are nerves, picking up with every word. “They always have something to say. Wear this, eat this, don’t eat this, don’t go there. I’m just sick of it, I need my freedom.”

Her last four words were spoken in a volume that reminded me of the howling wall a few moments ago. “You were having this fight with your mom right here?” I ask, pointing to the wall nearest to myself.

The seventeen year old girl nodded and collapsed to the ground, legs folded in one swift motion. She exhaled deeply, triggering memories of my own childhood once again. I had these exact same fights with my own mother around the same age, every seventeen year old does. I decide that I might be able to help.

“I feel that,” I say, thoughtfully. “My mom was the same. She always wanted me to act the way she thought was right. She ignored what I wanted and disagreed with my opinions. She wanted me to go by her rules, as if I was her.”

I steal a glance at her to see that she’s still listening before I look back down to the ground. “You know what I realised,” My breathing falters before I look up at the kid expectantly.

She catches on and quickly fills in the gap. “Dea.”

“Cool name. You know what I realised though, Dea?” I pause for a moment in thought to drive the point home. “I think my mom was only teaching me things the way she learned. She had no other frame of reference and this was how she knew things. She was trying her best to the best of her knowledge.”

“Fuck that, she should know me. I’m her daughter, she should care-” Dea’s voice rises in response.

“But don’t you see, Dea, if she didn’t care, she wouldn’t be interested in giving you advice at all.”

Dea, clearly unamused, eyes narrowing to a slit before they settle on me with a look of disgust. “She doesn’t know me. She thinks she’s so perfect, and that if I want to be as perfect as she is then I should act like her. I hate her. She doesn’t know me at all.” She finishes her monologue and begins catching her breath.

The more Dea inhaled, the less she seemed able to. Her breathing quickly turned shorter and more ragged before she began sobbing. Her eyes welled up with tears before she had to release them in broken whimpers.

I placed my hand on her shoulder, continuing to watch the ground to give her some privacy. We sat this way for almost 10 minutes before the shaking stopped and her breathing slowed to regular intervals.

I decided this would be the best time for her to hear this. She’s vulnerable, open to listening and I’ve been comforting her. I use my softest voice, careful not to wander into any territory she could mistake for patronisation.

“You should explain to her what you want and how it would help. If you explain, she might understand.”

Dea sat with the information for a while, giving no indication that she’d heard me except the slightest decrease in altitude of her eyebrows. After what felt like five minutes, Dea rolled her eyes, pushed my hand off her shoulder and stood up, patting her trousers clean.

“Yeah, I think I should get back.” She said, erasing any hints of her breakdown with a smile.

“How will you do that?” I ask, genuinely curious. How did she even get here?

“I’m not sure. I just kind of wanted it really badly.”

Dea drew in a long, slow, deep breath and exhaled slowly. The air seemed to alleviate much of her burdens and I saw Dea shrink before my eyes. Her shoulders narrowed and her arms collapsed comfortably by her side.

Her large brown eyes snapped to my face and her head turned to follow suit. She studied me intently, eyebrows knitting in together.

“Doesn’t it bother you?” She wondered, to my bewilderment. I couldn’t possibly figure out what she was asking about. My life hasn’t been perfect until now, but this seventeen year old kid couldn’t possibly know much about my feelings.

Dea’s expressions betrayed impatience native to her adolescent face, again. “You live here with your parents and your little sister, forced to take care of them when you could be out living your life in your own house. You’re stuck here with all these people when you could be living in a quiet house, making your own decisions, living your own lifestyle and being completely independent.” Her eyes pierce mine before she arrives at the point. “Doesn’t that bother you?”

My mind wanders at the threat of exposition. It sounds like she should be right. This train of thought has crossed my mind before, and it wouldn’t be incorrect to assume that I live with a small amount of resentment.

And yet, Dea’s words were harsh and cold. She was correct in her phrasing, and yet the idea is heartless and hurtful. If they were to reflect my feelings, then I’d be cold and heartless myself. Cold, heartless and resentful are not attributes I want to be associated with.

I make my decision to reconcile with the situation just as I choose my words. “I did. But I’ve realised that it’s no one’s fault. The cycle of life does not stop, and living life pretending that this cycle could ever stop and wait for you is almost like lying to yourself. Real life doesn’t wait for you to live out your 20s, lost and alone. The cycle of life turns, and you have to keep up with it. I have no regrets for living the way I do” I hesitate before I begin my next monologue.

“My life isn’t that much different from the way it would be if I were living on my own terms. I’m surrounded by the people I love and I get to spend time with the people who raised me. I get to take care of the people who kept me alive for years and spend their last few years with them. It’s not a chance I’ll have for the rest of my life, and I know that for a fact, because that’s how life goes. I’m lucky to have this time with them.” I pause for a moment before I add, “Plus, It beats being alone by a long shot.”

Dea picks a spot on the ground and watches it, solving the world’s most complicated equation in her mind. I decide to let her digest and head to the kitchen to grab us each a cup of water.

I’m filling up the second cup when Dea’s voice penetrates the kitchen walls.

“Thanks for saying those things. You’re wise, even though you’re just a human.”

I smirk and turn the tap off. Truly a little rascal.

I grab the cups and walk back to the living room before my eyes search the room. Dea is nowhere to be seen. The house has gone quiet and the walls are empty. A sigh escapes me before I shake my head and a smile overtakes me.

Just then, the door rattles and a set of keys click the door open. My brother pushes into the house and throws his keys onto the console. My parents walk in behind him and close the front door.

“‘Sup, dude.” My younger brother mutters before he makes his way to his enclosure, true to his nature. He would’ve gotten along with Dea.

I smile and turn to my parents. It’s true, people shrink when they grow older. My legs are moving before I could stop them and I make my way to my parents.

My arms wrap around my mother and father’s shoulders and hold them both close to me. I know they’re confused, but that amuses me even more as I hold them close, careful not to spill any of the water.

When I let them go, their questions are clear on their faces. God, if I didn’t have to explain, I’d burst out laughing. Though, I do wish I had a camera.

I hand them each a cup of water and put one hand each on their shoulders. “Welcome home, guys.” I pronounce before I turn away. I make my way to my laptop, sifting over the events of the last hour. What an odd day.