My favorite season, autumn, was at its most splendid. I strolled aimlessly down the sidewalk, unconsciously aware of exactly where I was headed. I took in my surroundings. The changing of the leaves’ colors really was a magical sight. Bright shades of reds, oranges, and yellows fluttered around my being and towards the setting sun. I turned at the end of the sidewalk, taking note that the housings in the neighborhood appeared to be quite old. That didn’t necessarily mean they were hideous, however. Aged beauties were a rarity that only time could bring about, and that really made them priceless.
I stopped just shy of the sidewalk corner and walked onto the lawn of a particularly eye-catching house. It was a simple place- probably for a small family that were just beginning their new life together. The white coat looked as if it had been centuries since its last paint job and the wooden porch seemed as if it were on the verge of deteriorating. I took note of a swing on the rickety porch and immediately pushed down my desire to try it out- one of the chains was haphazardly tied to the ceiling and was visibly becoming undone.
I walked up the creaking steps as the wooden shutters lurched back and forth, squeaking all the while. The whole building oozed an obvious, eerie aura, screaming at anyone to turn away. I looked behind me at the curling, lifeless trees on either side of the house. I felt as if I was being ensnared by them, but for some reason, I wanted to continue my trek. There was something so familiar about the house that simply subdued any qualms that built up inside of me. So, without even the slightest rap, I entered the foreboding domain.
I walked around the main floor, regarding the antique furnishings from the living room, through the kitchen, and all the way to the back door. Instead of taking my leave, I spun on the heel of my boot, and walked over to what I could only assume was a closet door. Without another wasted moment, I drew open the door in one, swift motion. What I was met with was not, in fact, a closet, but a hall. A hall with a staircase that went down, up, down, up, down, until, finally, I could just barely make out a completely white hallway. The walls were covered with floral papering up until the tops of the stairs, where they were met with wooden panels that stretched all the way down to the bottom-most level.
Letting my curiosity take over, I peacefully sauntered towards the flawless, white hall. As time passed, my aggravation grew, but my legs refused to take me to my destination any faster. I was forced to lead a monotonous trek, but that didn’t seem to bother me as much as the stirring feeling in my stomach that was making its presence known. Not once did my pace pick up a step or two, and yet, my heart felt like I had just run a marathon.
Anxiety began to consume me, but I continued regardless, finding I could now make out details of the white hallway. The floor was entirely white tile and the walls were the same color, of course, but painted. To the right side of the short hall, there was a simple window with sheer, white curtains that wisped against the air. My heart lurched when I got close enough to see that the window was sealed shut. I tried to make out what was outside the window, but to no avail. I could only see a bright, white light that needlessly cast itself into the hall.
At the end of the hall was a dark, walnut side-table that provided a striking contrast to its all-white surroundings. Above the table hung a framed painting of a mountainous area covered with thriving greenery. Beside the mountains, there was a shimmering lake that complimented the bright-blue sky, and flower gardens that were elegantly spread throughout the entirety of the painting.
I marveled at the painting, breaking my gaze only upon becoming aware of my stillness. I was no longer walking, and I stood just before the white tiles. Only then did I notice the hall on the left wall. I cautiously walked down the short hall and looked over the window and painting again, realizing I was just inches away from what lay beyond the corner. Inches away from what pulled me into this house in the first place.
And inches away from the most terrifying sensation I had ever felt.
I couldn’t bring myself to take another step forward, so I sprinted back towards the entrance in what felt like a blink of an eye. I slammed the door shut and panted heavily, turned quietly into the living room. On the left wall was the most beautiful mirror I had ever laid eyes on. It was cut into an oval shape and framed with what seemed like real gold encrusted with fine jewels. I came up to it and my complexion immediately turned white.
I placed my palm gently against my reflection with open dread. Instead of my normal, chocolate-brown eye color, my right iris glowed a vibrant violent. My right eye lid was also colored with violet shadow as if I had just applied eyeshadow. I quickly reached up to wipe away the smoky shadow, quickly catching on to the fact that it wasn’t makeup, and it wasn’t going to come off that easily. My heart started up again and I spun around, almost fainting at the sight before me.
There stood a haggard, old woman. She was grinning, but furrowing her brows as if she were concerned for my life.
The only thought that seemed to run around in my mind was that this woman was not in the reflection.
She quickly pulled me in by the arm into a tight embrace and stroked my hair lovingly.
“Shh, darling. It’s alright now- don’t fret. I’m so sorry you had to see all of that.” She cooed hauntingly.
In that moment, I did not fight her embrace, nor did I accept it. I simply stood there, wide-eyed, terrified, and, most of all, confused.