The Old House: Hungry Cries

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....Continued from The Old House: The Tradition

Few minutes had passed by before he finally went inside the house. He proceeded to the living room where the staircase was, surveying the place along the way. Except for the cobwebs dangling around the corners and on the ceilings, the house was surprisingly neat and fragrant with a strawberry scent. There were lighted candles everywhere – on the kitchen counters, on the wooden furniture pieces and even on the stairs. They were ingeniously arranged. For a moment, Quito was mesmerized by the exoticism of the surroundings.

A creak brought him back to his senses. Alarmed, he looked up, sensing the sound originated from the next floor. Another creak sounded. Suddenly, a woman’s cry echoed. Quito jumped to his feet, and moving backward, he pinned himself on the wall. His hairs rising, he slid on the wall and groped for a knob. Finding one, he turned it, opening the door and exposing an old woman sitting on a rocking chair, her back on him.


The witch, he mouthed upon recognizing the familiar white hair.  

She seemed oblivious to his trespass as she continued shuffling small pieces of papers in her hands. He gazed at her, uncertain what to do, only wondering why had the people let the witch keep on living. Gently, he withdrew and closed the room, afraid that she would finally notice him. Sighing a relief, he became excited and thought of the stories he would be sharing to his neighbors in later days. He could finally say he is one of the men.  Again, he heard another creak. 

“Now,” he said to himself, “on the floor above.” 

Softly, he ascended the stairs and as he was going up, the noise grew louder and more distinct. When he stepped on the last flight, his fears peaked that he felt his whole body shuddering, making it hard for him to take another step. The place was bright enough from the candles that were melting on the floor. Rooms stood all around him, and the cries and creaks seemed to vibrate from them. Falling on his knees, he crawled and crouched on a nearby wall. The noise was harrowing his soul. Losing poise, he reached for the knob just right beside him, and carefully, so the hinges would not scrape, he swung the door open.

He entered a room where lace draperies flowed from the ceiling, covering the central portion of the chamber. A light illuminated from the center, creating hellish and hypnotic effects on the pink, lavender and violet curtains. But Quito was not seized by the effects; rather, he was attracted to the shadow dancing at the middle of the room.

To be continued....

Image courtesy of Twisted Brushes.