Part of me resisted calling this “Part 3” because, yes, it’s the same house Erin and Matt had to repair and adapt to, but you really don’t need to read either Part 1 or Part 2 because this isn’t their story. This is the other side of the house – or houses, really. And I didn’t intend to split this side of the story into two parts, but a) it’s late already and I really didn’t want to burn the midnight oil again, but also b) it feels right to split it here. So, enjoy your living energy and let’s see what’s behind Erin and Matt’s disturbances…
Norman knew something was different. The living had disappeared. That in and of itself didn’t change Norman’s routine – he still roamed the hallway of the bungalow. He vaguely remembered this spot when he was alive… but that was… distant. Prune Orchards… the ladder failed… the fall… darkness. When he woke up in the bungalow he didn’t recognize the surroundings, but he understood where he was – the attachment to place, to the land beneath the house.
And the young couple glowed with life. Newlyweds. Initially his roaming frightened them, but after some time they grew used to Norman’s nightly perambulations through the dark hallway and kitchen. When their kids were young they asked who the man in the overalls was. The couple always laughed nervously and told the kids it was no one… That was fine, too. Norman didn’t like being noticed, he just liked being there, drawing the warmth from the living.
As the kids grew and cried or spoke or rebelled or slammed doors or loved or left the energy ebbed and flowed and Norman ebbed and flowed with the house and in seemingly no time – Norman didn’t have any notion about the passing of time from his side of the veil – it was just him and the newlyweds in the house, though they moved more slowly than they had. And then there was just the woman with visits from the children. It was just her and Norman, and she smiled when his movement made the floorboards creak.
And then the house was quiet for a period. Norman didn’t know if it was quiet for a day, a week, an eternity… without the living, he moved slowly, but he watched. People came in, walked around, peering here and there, then left. Then new people. Finally, the same couple kept coming back – she was pregnant – and Norman could feel the life and energy. Then the house was filled with people – well, men. Men with tools.
His house shrunk.
Not all at once – the family wasn’t here and the men with tools were so temporary that he couldn’t draw energy, so the disappearing of his porch didn’t register until it was gone. And then the family room vanished. The kids’ rooms. Norman walked around the kitchen not exactly scared – he didn’t have that emotion anymore. More confused than anything. He had more energy for the small space and he didn’t realize he was knocking construction supplies over. Some of the men, they were scared. Some left for good. But it didn’t stop. Norman stood with his back against the south wall of the kitchen, the manifestation of being painted into a corner. And then he was in the wall and it was dark and Norman closed his eyes and slept.
George loved being dead.
Way more than being alive – in fact, he didn’t remember anything about his life. Not a thing. He remembered the pizza place he hung out in until it changed into an upscale bistro. The whole energy of the place shifted and George didn’t dig it. Then, one night, Tom and Susan were having dinner and just after the entrée Tom dropped to one knee and proposed to Susan. George watched how Susan lit up. But, damn, Tom was smooth! George followed them out of the bistro, rode home to their condo in Tom’s BMW. The condo was… alright. He enjoyed his forays through joined walls, but he felt anchored to Tom, so he mostly stayed in his unit.
When Tom and Susan moved into the big house, George couldn’t believe his luck. He had so much room to roam! And then there was a little baby that pointed over Susan’s shoulder at George as he pulled faces that made the child squeal with glee. Their second child adopted George as their invisible friend – well, invisible to her parents. George happily sat for make-believe tea parties, seated next to the tiger and blue dog stuffed animals, while her ten-year-old brother rolled his eyes at his baby sister; he didn’t seem to notice George directly anymore, and that was fine.
George hadn’t noticed the shift, but he spent less and less time paying attention to Tom and more time, well, with everyone all over the big house – downstairs in the kitchen, the living room, checking on the kids in their bedrooms upstairs and, sure, see how Tom and Susan were doing. But without realizing it, he had found his space.
So, when Tom, Susan, and the kids disappeared with their belongings in boxes he stayed. The little girl waved at him in her old window as they drove off in the Land Rover.
When Erin and Matt moved in, George could feel their joy for his house practically glowing. They weren’t Tom and Susan or the kids, but they brought a new energy. And they were in the house during the day! They’d work out of the former kids’ rooms and George availed himself of their conference calls – once, he saw another ghost behind one of Erin’s coworkers. They smiled at each other, but no one on the call noticed. George found his attachment to his house gave him the ability to interact with it and he really enjoyed opening the cabinets in the kitchen. The first time he felt a little bad because he didn’t mean to scare Erin. But they seemed to get used to it and he felt that if they didn’t exactly like it, they warmed to it in the same way he had warmed to their presence.
George noticed the water in the south wall but, to be honest, he didn’t really pay any attention – that was the one part of the house he didn’t feel really comfortable with. It just felt… different. But he didn’t dwell on it, until the night Susan screamed. George followed her gaze and saw the water had gotten through the wall. More than the water, though, he could feel something in the wall – a different energy…
When Erin and Matt both left, George wasn’t concerned – they left with luggage, not boxes. But then the men showed up with tools and scaffolding and went to work on the south wall. They didn’t even notice him opening the cabinets, so he left them in the kitchen and wandered upstairs.
He heard the men leave for the day and he came downstairs to close his cabinets, and stepped into the kitchen and froze.
“Who are you?” the man in overalls asked.
“I’m… I’m George,” George hadn’t spoken in so long… he didn’t remember the sound of his own voice at first. “W-who are you?”
“Norman. What are you doing in my house?”
“Your house? What are you doing in my house?”
