Chapter Text
This place is huge.
The house- well, let’s call it what it is, a mansion – is at least three stories, maybe four. Probably has a big basement, too. There are pillars leading to the front door, the height of opulence. There’s even a few rounded tower things - turrets, I think? - like castles have. Decorative trim lines the large roof and around windows. And, wow, there are so many windows. At least one of them has to be one of those window nooks where people read books contemplatively as it rains outside like they do in movies.
It looks like it’s been a very long time since anyone has been inside. The blue paint has long faded. There are vines wrapped all around the outside and some are crawling in through broken windows. Whatever garden was planted here is overgrown and unmanaged, I have to push past bushes to get to the front door. Floorboards creak as I walk across the porch, rotted and weather-beaten. The door is ajar, and as I push it further open the hinges groan.
It’s not as dark as I thought it’d be. There’s a broken skylight above that lets in the remaining sunlight left in the day, illuminating a large foyer and a wide moldy staircase. Blue wallpaper hangs in tatters over white wood paneling that is stained and spotted with mold. A chandelier has crashed to the ground in front of me, crystals scattered all over the place. My hand automatically reaches to my left, searching for a light switch that doesn’t exist. I move my hand back to the strap of my backpack and step carefully into the room, trying to avoid anywhere the floor has collapsed in.
So this place is definitely haunted. Still beats staying at the shelter, or going back to-
My foot goes through the floor, the crack of breaking wood echoing through the mansion. Luckily it didn’t go all the way through into the basement so my foot lands on some wood. Looks like the walls and floors they built back then were thick. I ease my foot out without too much trouble. It doesn’t feel like I got cut or anything, just surprised is all. I move to the left wall and stay close as I keep moving. I pass by one room with large broken windows, leaves scattered across the floor and under the chairs seated across from each other. This room isn’t exactly what I’m looking for, I’m trying to get out of the elements.
I go further and come to an archway. I look in. Looks like a living room, or maybe they called it a parlor back then? There are fancy blue patterned couches that likely haven’t been sat on in decades, a set of chairs facing a table with a checkboard pattern, old framed art along the walls, and a large fireplace at the far end. I go in. I walk over to the largest couch and test it. It’s dusty but looks like it’s still in decent shape. Of course, I probably won’t see the mold spores I breathe in while sleeping on it. My lungs are already fucked up from secondhand smoke anyway, so it doesn’t matter.
I set my backpack down. A plume of dust puffs up as it falls on the couch. I take a seat next to it. I’ve had a long walk today, probably about eighteen miles. I could have tried hitchhiking, but, let’s be honest, how often does that end well? Plus, the driver would probably want to know my story and I don’t want to talk to anyone.
I lift my legs up on the table and settle into the couch. My feet hurt like hell, I should have gotten new shoes while I had the chance. I tilt my head against the back of the couch and-
There are stars above me, points of white in an endless black expanse. A comet streaks by, its tail long and fiery. A sun glows in the middle, planets spiraling around it. Lines connect stars together into constellations, I can recognize the Big Dipper. This painting extends all across the vaulted ceiling, hedged by white molding along the tops of the walls. It makes me feel small.
Whoever lived here had money to burn. Probably lost it all in the Great Depression or something and had to foreclose the place. I wonder how long it’s been since someone has seen this. It’s a shame to let something like this fade away.
I tear my eyes off the ceiling and reach into my bag. I take stock of my inventory. Two shirts, a pair of pants, three pairs of underwear, a second pair of socks that has more holes than my current pair. My hygiene kit, which consists of a toothbrush, a small thing of hand sanitizer, some band-aids, and a travel-sized stick of deodorant. My water bottle is strapped to the outside of my bag, only a quarter full. There’s my wallet with my social security card and thirteen dollars, not much else. I managed to get a pack of protein bars at the last food bank, there’s four left. At the bottom is my blanket, thin and flimsy. And there’s my radio, my headphones, and my books, the necessities.
I pick up my radio and turn it on. Static screeches out, scaring me so much I almost drop it. Okay, so I might be more afraid of ghosts being here than I let on. I turn down the volume and tune the dials until I can understand the words to the pop song playing, then set it on the table. I have an extra set of batteries in the front pocket if it runs low, but it lasts longer than you think. The DJ of this station rarely talks long, usually only cutting in to give the news highlights and weather reports three times a day. I’ve been listening to this station the past three states, I’m surprised the signal still reaches me.
The sky is turning dark outside the windows to either side of the fireplace. I guess I could start a fire, there aren’t too many houses around here so I doubt anyone will notice the smoke. I take my blanket and drag it to where my foot fell through the floor. I wrap it around the edge of the hole so my hands don’t get splinters as I grab the edge and pull. The wood tears like, well, not like cardboard but easier than you’d think. It must be really water-damaged. I toss that scrap toward the parlor and keep ripping up wood, as much as I can get. The house creaks as it settles, which doesn’t help my nerves.
I bring the wood over to the fireplace, snapping it into smaller pieces and favoring less rotted wood. There’s a bookcase in here and I grab a few books, the words inside smudged from moisture, and I start ripping out pages. Suddenly, a door slams upstairs, making my heart jump out of my chest. I have to take a few deep breaths before continuing. When I’ve calmed down, I set the wood on the metal grate and stuff the pages in the spaces between, then grab my lighter and let it burn. Soon enough, I have a real fire going, not the small sparks I sometimes set up when I’m camping. The radio turns to static. I pull a nearby metal screen over to keep the fire from escaping, then mess with the radio’s dials until it’s clear again
This place isn’t half-bad. The couch is sort of comfy, the fire is warm, and it’s prettier than a lot of places I’ve hunkered down in. Almost made me forget why I came to this town in the first place. I’m going to enjoy this little bit of peace I have while I still can. I pick up one of my books, The Rise and Fall of Sanctuary Moon, Volume III, and pick up where my bookmark left me. Solicitor Rin is being forced to defend Captain Tevran or her bodyguard will be killed by his crew. I know how it ends, but this is one of my favorites, there’s a reason I lug it around everywhere.
Night falls and deepens as I read. The fire crackles and every so often I add a piece of splintered wood to keep it going. My radio goes in and out of static, garbling out words every so often, distracting me from reading for a moment before it returns to normal. I stop reading to catch the DJ’s nightly report: some news about a war far away and a low chance of rain in this area tomorrow. He changes the music to classical songs, my cue to go to bed.
I put everything back in my bag haphazardly, just in case I need to bug out, and turn the volume down a little on the radio, enough to keep me company as I fall asleep. I got about forty pages further in my book; Rin has subtly signaled to her rival prosecutor and occasional ally that her bodyguard is in trouble and she needs help. Will they take the hint and find a solution? I’ll have to wait to find out in two more chapters.
I lay back on the couch, pulling my blanket up over me. I’ll let the fire burn itself out, the screen should keep it contained. Soft piano rings out from the radio and I finally start to drift to sleep after a long day.
Then the radio crackles. Through the static I hear, You were lucky.