The House Is Alive

The Musket Fire

Prologue

The evening is very cold and the clouds look darker than normal, mirroring Christian’s current state of mind. He spends his entire day thinking of his next step -to stay or to leave. He knows, deep inside, that he is running out of his mind with every passing moment in the Retirement Community. Every night that passes is like a night away from sanity. He doesn’t know who to talk to. Or better put -he doesn’t know who will believe the words of his mouth. He sees things; and hears things. Things that are far beyond his understanding, and there is no soul he can trust to give him clarity. Of all his years of being a security guard, he has never experienced situations like the ones he has experienced in the Roanoke Retirement Community. He has only worked here for 3 years but has seen enough for an entire lifetime.

He looks at his wrist watch subconsciously; his new habit whenever it’s nearing 9:00 PM. That’s the time when things get heated in the chill of the night. He walks to his room which is a boys quarters at the entrance of one of the facilities in the vast community containing several other houses and facilities. He reaches for the round door knob to open his door but he finds out the door is already slightly open.

“Hmph,” he scoffs and walks in anyway.

With time, some abnormalities in the community have become normalities; doors opening on their own accord, subtle footsteps announcing the arrival of no one visible -or at least, Christian is sure as hell they are footsteps but nobody else hears them. Nobody else sees these things.

Christian walks into his room and grabs his earbuds to fit them into his ears. Then he sits on his bed and shuts his eyes tight like that would do any good. He used to have a tough heart during his early days as the security guard of the facility, but over time, his very soul has been broken. This begs his former question -to stay or to leave.

Before he gets another chance to think about it, the screeches begin. They are loud; they are sounding outside the building but it feels like they are inside, piercing his heart as sharp as a cold silver dagger would. Christian presses his hands against his ears but the screams just seem to get even louder and more tormenting. It sounds like a hundred little girls are screaming at once and they just won’t stop.

“That’s it! I can’t take it anymore,” Christian yells and races out of his room, and out of the facility not caring what would become of him, even if that’s the last they hear of him. He was dying little by little in the house anyway.

“If tonight will be my last, then let it be,” Christian says as he runs into the dark night.

The Musket Fire

It’s still very early in the morning but I feel more than ready for my first day at work. I take a final glance at my one bedroom flat before shutting the door and locking it up. I don’t know how long I’ll be gone but I know I won’t be returning home anytime soon and that’s the only downside to getting this particular job. I’m a little too fond of my small apartment and who would blame me? I have lived in it for as long as I can remember and I’ve made quite a number of good memories have been made here too.

I lock the door and hang my bag on my shoulders, adjusting the straps so they would fit tightly to my body so the load in it won’t pull me down; it just makes the bag feel lighter. I head out of my apartment and I’m first greeted by the warm morning sun standing overhead. I squint when I look up at it, then exhale before taking my next step.

“Hey, taxi!” I yell after the black and yellow car passing by and the driver stops immediately.

“Where?” The driver asks when he reverses.

I pause for a second when I see the old man. For some reason he looks familiar but I can’t quite place my finger on where I met him.

“You going or what?” The impatient driver says.

“Uh, yeah. The Roanoke Retirement Facility,”

“Hmm,” it was the old man’s turn to pause and stare.

He looks at me from head to toe and I can’t be so sure but there seems to be something like pity in his eyes as he looks at me. I’m confused as hell; I don’t understand why the driver is staring at me in such a manner. Here in Roanoke, Virginia, if people look at you funny, you take the hint and run for your life. And even though the driver isn’t give me any danger vibes, he is looking at me really funny. Luckily he doesn’t stare for too long; he relieves me of the uncomfortable situation.

“Get in,” the driver says.

During the ride down to the community, I fantasize some more about my new job. I have worked as a security guard before but for a small facility. The Roanoke Community is much more different than that -it’s a vast place according to what I have heard and for some reason, I am confident I can handle working there. Another thought flashes across my mind. I’m grateful I got the job when I got it, but its surprising how the process was smooth and short.

“My good luck maybe?” I mutter under my breath.

“We’ll be there soon, son,” the driver says.

“Oh okay,” I grab my bag and place it on my laps, ready to alight whenever the driver stops.

I sit in wait for a while and the driver doesn’t stop. Instead he engages me in a conversation.

“You said you’re going to the Retirement Community,”

“Yes. I just got a job there as the new security guard,”

“Hmm,” the driver looks at me through the rearview mirror and he returns his eyes to the road when I catch his gaze.

“What do you know about the community?”

“Not so much, actually. I just know its a place where they take care of retired people and they are in need of a Night Watcher,”

“Another Night Watcher,”

“Yeah,” I say, not sure of where the driver is going with his questions and statements.

“It looks like we’re here already,” I say with a tiny small playing around the corner of my cheeks.

“Yeah. We are,” the driver echoes.

I pay him and get off the cab with my bag. I turn to look at the estate in front of me. It seems to be even bigger than I imagined.

“Take good care of yourself, young man,” the driver says and drives off.

“I….will,” I say, still confused by the old man’s attitude.

But I am too excited about my new place of work to pay too much attention to him. I walk to the wide golden gate and I see that it is slightly open.

“Hmm. They really do need a security guard around here. Why should the entrance of such a big place be left unguarded?” I say to myself.

I walk through the gate and hear it bounce close behind me. I take my time to absolve the beauty of the estate. The entrance is a clear field -clear in the sense that they are no houses many feet behind the gate. There’s just one block sign on that reads ‘Hermitage in Roanoke’ and it’s beautifully adorned with green shrubs planted round and about it. I walk to where the houses are and I notice that most of them are painted with the same cream color. It gives the area an exquisite look of the sort. From the entrance, I can already sight two large plantation sites within the area. There a couple food crops growing on the land and one can easily guess it is for the consumption of the residents seeing as the Roanoke Community is a non-profit organization.

I head to one of the buildings and plant a knock on the door. No one answers at first, so I decide to walk round the house. I stop at one of the windows and try to see inside but the glass is tinted and my effort to peek inside is in futility. I return to the front of the house and I jerk when I set my eyes on him.

“Ha! Oh my God. Uhm, good day Sir,” I stutter.

“You must be Ernesto,” a matured looking man says. He is holding a black leather bag in his hand and standing straight like he has no pulse.

“Yes, Sir,” I answer as I walk towards him but the man doesn’t move; not even an inch.

He fixes his eyes on me as if he is scanning my face to make sure I’m not lying. He leans his face forward, towards mine and I swallow with furrowed brows.

“Come on in,” the matured man says.

He pushes the double door open, revealing the inside of the building. There are a few doors leading different rooms and there’s a passage by the side leading to the living room. I can’t see much of it from here but I can sight a couch that looks like the ones you’d see in a movie made in the 80s. The covering is made of cotton with some royal prints but the chair looks old, and not just because of the old design, it looks like something that has been in use for decades. It’s either they love it too much to change it or they don’t have enough funds to get a new one.

I take my first step into the house and I am greeted with a different aura entirely -at least, it’s different from the warm and welcoming aura I get in my home. I don’t know if I like it or not but I try to pull myself together.

“It’s too early to be home sick,” I think to himself.

“I’m Max, the Head of the Facility,”

“Right, you’re the one I’ve been communicating with,” I say, happy to finally put a face to the name.

“Yes. And this is Joy, the Head Nurse of the facility,” Max says when we get to the first room from the door.

The Nurse simply nods and returns her focus to the man in the wheelchair whom she was attending to. The man also doesn’t say a word; he doesn’t even smile. He keeps his gaze on me even as I walk away with Max.

“Is that man sick?”

“No, he isn’t. He’s just fine. Why?”

“Nothing. It just seemed to me like he was. He looked at me weird,”

“Oh. My two cents? Try as much as possible to focus on guarding the facility than guarding the people. It’ll do you a lot of good. If that will make any sense to you,”

And actually it doesn’t. It makes little to no sense to me, so I press further.

“What do you mean exactly, Sir,”

“The last 4 security guards couldn’t stay. They claimed all sort about the residents. Called them weirdos and said the residents were playing mind tricks on them. They didn’t leave here okay because they chose to ignore the very advice I just gave you,” Max says as he hands me the black bag in his hand.

“I’m sorry, Sir, did you say 4 security guards?” I say as I receive the bag and take a peek inside. I see that it contains a navy blue shirt and matching pants; must be my uniform.

“Well, we can make that 5 if we add Christian,”

“Oh,”

“Anyway. You can move around the facility whenever you want to. Most of the rooms here are for the retirees but this particular one is for you,” Max points to the room next to the one Nurse Joy is staying in.

“I’m not always going to be here but you can talk to Joy if you need anything,”

“Alright, Sir,” I says and he leaves me.

Just that second, I remember I didn’t get to finalize my pay with him -we had agreed to do so when I arrive at the facility- and so I turn back to ask about it but I don’t see him anymore; it’s almost like he disappeared into thin air.

I head straight to the room Mr Max said was mine, just to drop my belongings so I can begin the day’s work. I reach for the round door knob that looks like a relic from the 1640s but the thing that happened with the main gate, happens here again -the door drifts slightly open without me touching it. I take a closer look at the sides of the door to see if there was any shadow detector of the sort but I don’t find anything like that. If I did, I would have been surprised because the house looks too old to have something that modern. Most of the doors here are made of cheap wood and their regular creaks give away their age.

I walk into the room and I like how moderate it is. It reminds me of what my bedroom at home looks like. There’s an old mattress covered in partially okay sheets, a small table at the right hand corner of the room that has some of its edges chopped off but it’s standing fine. The curtain looks like it is due for change but it has cool butterfly designs anyway. Like I said, it’s exactly like my room -a neat mess. I drop my bag in the lock-less cupboard and I decide to sit on the bed for a short while. I start to look around too. I don’t know if it’s the grey and white painting of the room but there’s something about the atmosphere that feels heavy. Regardless, I quickly change my into my uniform and head out of the room.

I find Nurse Joy attending to the same man on the wheelchair. She was checking his blood pressure with a spygmanometer before I came but it looks like she’s done; she’s starting to pack up. I walk a little closer to the room hoping I can ask her to show me around seeing that no one has offered to do so. But she passes by me and nods like she did before. Though this time, with a tiny smile. When she leaves, I turn to the man she was attending to. It seems his hobby is staring deep into people eyes because that’s what he keeps doing for a while but he eventually says something to me.

“Take good care of yourself, son,” the man says and I could almost swear he sounds exactly like the driver that brought me here. What’s more, I hear those words echo in my head three more times before it fades. It scares me, I won’t lie, but I’m sure it’s my mind playing naughty tricks on me.

The man in the room doesn’t speak to me anymore, he turns his wheelchair so that he now backs me and he remains in that position. I don’t want to be a bother, especially not on my first day at work, and so I head out of the lobby to the front yard of the building. I take a few steps through the lawn with my hands in my pockets, my eyes in the grass, but my mind divided into different segments. I’m trying to understand why the driver and the carpenter would tell me the same thing on the same day and leave me hanging. What the hell am I supposed to do with a simple sentence that could mean anything? I try to wave it off my mind and I keep on walking, then I hear cocking from behind me and I turn around to see what made the sound but I don’t see anything.

I’m facing the building waiting for the source of the sound to surface, or to hear the cocking again, but nothing happens. Then I notice something new. Something I didn’t see when I first got here, it must have skipped my sight. There’s a black Musket hanging majestically on the wall of the building. Around it are flowers that look like there were knitted together to form an oval shape round the Musket so that it looks like a precious prize or something of the sort. I’m staring at it and waiting to hear the cocking sound but I’m greeted by something else.

“Ernesto?” I feel a cold hand on my shoulder.

“Whoa!” I yell and turn around.

“Calm down, I didn’t mean to scare you,”

“Who are you?” I ask the young man in between gasps.

“Arnold,”

“Arnold…” I say with furrowed brows.

“Arnold Grey. I’m also a retiree and one of the residents here,”

“Oh,” I say, letting down my guard. “I’m…,”

“Ernesto. Yeah. We know,”

“We?”

“Yeah. Almost everyone in the facility heard about your arrival. You must have seen Max, Nurse Joy and Harold, the retired carpenter,”

“Harold, the man on the wheel chair,”

“Yes. That Harold,”

“Yeah. I did see him. He’s quite,”

“Quite what?”

“Never mind,” I say and decide to focus on something else.

I see an airman badge on his shirt; a silver bird with its wings spread out.

“What about you?” I ask. “Are you also retired?”

“Yes. I am. I served as an airman in the US military for about 2 decades before…” he pauses, and stares into thin air.

I see him wince like he just remembered a terrible incidence.

“Never mind, Ernesto. It was nice meeting you. I should get inside, it’s almost time for lunch,”

“Right,” I say.

I watch him walk into the building, and when he enters totally, my eyes return to the musket on the wall. Thanks to Arnold I almost forgot about the cocking sound I was hearing before he showed up, and now I can’t hear it anymore.

I decide to talk a short walk round the facility -since no one offered to show me around- just to familiarize myself with the nooks and crannies of the place. I find my way to a certain plantation site which happens to be twice as large as the area of land occupied by the facility itself. There are lots of pumpkin plants on majority of the land and another huge sector is given to corn plants growing tall and green, while the rest of the land is covered in shrubs. I sight a small building at the end of the plantation farm and I want to know what’s in it. It’s a long walk from where I stand and the sun is burning fat overhead but my curiosity beats my desire to stay under a shade, away from the head of the sunlight. I begin my journey down to the small building and I’m liking the fresh scent from the leaves around me. It’s no wonder my grandma liked planting around the house so much. She said her plants were essential because they usually purified the air. I never really paid attention to that but I can’t ignore that fact here in a community filled with fresh greens.

When I get to my destination -the small building at the end of the plantation farm- I try to observe the surrounding a little bit before going in. I see that the door is chopped at the bottom like other doors in the facility. I reach for the knob and make to open the door, but a mouse runs out from underneath.

“Jeez!” I lift my leg to let it pass.

If a mouse is coming out of the place, I wonder what it would look like in there. I turn the door knob and give the door a gentle nudge to push it open and I’m in the room. It’s dark. There’s just one window and it’s high up on the wall, allowing only a small amount of light into the room. I check around for something -a torch or something of the sort- that I can use to see better in here.

There’s this long wardrobe in front of me. It has about 4 drawers and I go through them one after another in search for light. I can see a lot of papers in one of the drawers, then paper accessories. There are a few candlesticks here, gratefully.

“There should be a matchbox somewhere here too,”

I stretch my fingers deeper into the wardrobe and feel the area till my hand touches a box.

“Yes!”

It’s a matchbox like I predicted. I use it to light up one candlestick and it’s doesn’t do so much with regards lighting up the room but it’s bright enough to see more.

The center of the room is free. Most of the items here are fixed to the walls or hanging on them. The most obvious item being some set of chains with buckles at the end for binding hands and feet, I suppose. The chains are all rusted and cold to touch. Beside them is a picture frame of two pictures. I can tell that they are different pictures even though they are placed side by side inside the same frame because one is in black and white with a lot of half naked people in chains, while the other is a polychrome picture of people in matching suits and tie.  

“Could these be the chains in the picture?” I ask myself with furrowed brows as I exchange glances between the people in the picture and the rusted chains on the wall.

Even if I get the answer to that question, I’m not sure what purpose it would be of to me right now, so I look away, but just before my eyes evade the picture frame completely, something sharply grabs my attention.

“Finally. Someone I recognize,” I say almost in a whisper.

I place my finger on his face, in the picture. It’s him, Arnold, I’m sure of it. He looks so much younger here though; almost like a teenager.

“The Armarin,” I read the words from the picture.

“Isn’t that the war that happened in 1950?”

This could only mean one thing; for Arnold to appear in this picture, he must have been one of the prisoners of war. That must have been the reason for his hesitation in his final statements back there. I feel sorry for him. I can only imagine what it would feel like, being deprived of all of your freedom. I wonder why they are keeping all this here anyway -the before and after pictures, the chains. Such a sore sight.

I soon get bored of the room; it’s not giving any good vibes whatsoever. So I head out. Back to the beautiful greens and bright sunlight. I stand outside the small historical building and gaze at the resident area.

“Another long walk under this sun,” I say under my breath.

It takes a while but I eventually get to the other side of the plantation farm. On my way to the facility, I see a wooden shade at the converging point of several walkways. It’s a circular shade with wooden seats under it. Unlike most of the furniture inside the house, the make up of the shade looks very rich. I don’t know if its the sunlight adding to its aesthetics but there’s this lustrous appearance to it. I walk right pass the shade to the facility and I assume my position at the front of the building. Gratefully, there’s a bench for me to seat on.

For the first few hours, I sit and watch, waiting for something and nothing in particular. I don’t expect any disaster to occur on my first day of work but it is sure as hell quiet around here. Even the inhabitants of the place don’t talk much. Of course, I don’t expect them to be totally free with a stranger but I hope they warm up to me sooner or later.

I talk walks round the facility when sitting gets overly boring and I rest -seat on the bench- when I’m tired of walking again. That became the order of my day; I do so till sundown when my shift officially starts. I’m enthusiastic about my work and I have a good feeling that I’ll do just fine around here. Guarding a peaceful environment; what could possibly go wrong? The clouds start to gather early in the evening and it gets pretty dark, pretty fast. The clouds are threatening to drop it’s content upon us very soon and the wind gradually becomes boisterous.

“Really,”

It seems nature is not as ecstatic as I am for my first day. I head into the facility when the wind roars louder with flimsy pride; I’m sure this is just one of those empty threats of rainfall. I’m going to wait it out. I shut the door behind me and head to my room to get a jacket because I already got a little chill in. I’m only two steps gone when I hear the door bang behind me. I turn around to see the wind flipping it back and forth.

“I thought I locked it properly,” I say as I head back to the door to check it out.

I’m standing in confusion but the wind from outside doesn’t even give me the time to analyze the situation properly so I shut the door and lock it tight again. I turn towards my room and I hear the door bang yet again.

“What the..,” it’s actually starting to upset me because I don’t understand what is going on.

I return to the flipping door and hold it still, then I lock it. I stand there to see if it’ll open again so I can see what is causing it to open up with so much force after I’ve closed it.

“Why are you standing there alone?” Nurse Joy says from behind me and this time I don’t yell out of fright.

It seems I’m starting to get used to people showing up from nowhere around here.

“I was just trying to lock the doors. It’s really windy outside,”

“Okay. You should stay somewhere safe though. It’s almost time,”

“Time for what?”

“You’ll hear,” she turns around to leave. “Goodnight, Ernesto,” she says over her shoulders as she walks away.

I take a seat on the only couch close to the entrance. It’s a wooden couch also but with a foamy seat which presses down low when I settle on it. Like every other furniture inside the house, it’s obviously old. I tap my fingers on the wooden part of the armrest, subconsciously, and it echoes. The night is quiet just like it should be. It’s calming and I like it. An hour passes by and I hear that the wind is starting to settle so I go back outside. I start to move back and forth around the facility to ensure nothing is out of place; just doing my job. I see something like a merry-go-round from afar off. It’s spinning, slowly, but I don’t think theres anybody on it. I decide to check it out, even though a huge part of me is against that decision. It’s like the machine is pulling on me like a magnet. My head is screaming at me to stay put but my heart is too proud to put all of its courage to waste.

It’s so obvious I’m alone out here. I can almost hear my heart thump. I can hear myself breathe and I can hear every step I take through the soft grasses. I draw closer to the merry-go-round and it lights up when I’m few feet away.

“Is someone there?” I ask.

It doesn’t stop spinning and I try to focus more on it to see if I’ll find someone on one of the horses. And yes, I do find something. Like a shadow standing behind one of the plastic horses. It’s difficult to make out the shape and I move a little closer to find out what or who is casting it’s or their shadows on the floor. After my third step forward, I hear the same cocking sound I heard earlier today and this time it’s louder; it sounds like a gun is being cocked right above my head. Before I get the chance to react, I hear a very loud ring of a musket and I lie down, reflexively, on the sandy ground. All of the hair on the surface of my skin is standing erect and the rhythm of my heart feels incoherent. The ringing stops and for the first few seconds I can’t seem to get up from the floor; my body is still in shock. I gather a little momentum and pick myself up when I remember that my life could be in danger. I look around in search of where the shot must have come from but I don’t see anyone around.

“The residents!”

I race back to the facility to make sure no one’s hurt. I quickly unlock the door and open it up to see Nurse Joy seating on the couch near the door.

“Oh my God, are you….okay?”

She does look okay. There was no need for my question at all.

“Why are you still up?” I ask another question that seems relatively reasonable.

“I’m the Nurse and I have to make sure the residents are okay at all hours,”

Again. A question, by me, that didn’t need to be asked.

“So you must have heard the gunshot,”

“What gunshot?” She asks with a very calm tone. I know that if I don’t pull myself together, her tone is sure to convince me that I’m going insane.

“You can’t be serious,” I laugh, dryly. “That thing was loud. In fact, it was too loud, it felt like the shooter was right behind me. You can’t tell me you didn’t hear it,”

“Mr…,” she taps her forehead as if trying to remember something.

“Ernesto Aguirre,”

“Ernesto. Right. Maybe you need some rest. I’m sure you’re only hearing things because you’re stressed. This facility is, and has always been, a safe space for the residents. Please don’t go out in their presence acting like this, you’ll be doing the reverse of my work which is to take care of their physical and mental state of mind,”

“But,”

“For the last time, I hope, goodnight Ernesto,” she says and makes to walk away.

“I did warn you to stay somewhere safe,” she whispers as she walks away but I hear it.

It’s almost as if she wanted me to hear it, but I don’t understand anything she’s saying or doing. I can’t be going crazy, I know what I heard. I didn’t come into this house with any mental illness, so why should my mind be messing with me now? I need to talk to someone. Maybe Mr Max. I don’t know for sure, but it feels like something isn’t right here. And I’m going to find out what.