skeletongrrl:I N T R O D U C I N G: 996 CATHERINE CLOSE. this is a story about a house, which is to
skeletongrrl:I N T R O D U C I N G: 996 CATHERINE CLOSE. this is a story about a house, which is to say my story, which is to say a story with walls, and doors, and people passing through them. they go and they do not stay. this seems unfair, at least to me. does it seem unfair to you?GENRE: a ghost story minus ghosts.POV: mostly first person and some third person sections.THEMES: homes as monsters, memory, preservation and loss, good and bad families, letting go, holding on, abandonment, every house is haunted.CONTENT WARNING: abuse, mental illness, some horror elements.All I could do was watch. My voice was too low. I could barely even sing to myself, the walls creaking and shuddering the tiniest bit when I tried to create voice. Jonathan had built me too well. I fit together like one of those puzzle sets, all the edges aligned perfectly, no room for air to whistle through holes and for me to rattle the walls like percussion. I could whisper. I would soften the sounds of my floorboards when Marie was bedridden with one of her headaches, her body turned away from the light streaming through the windows. I couldn’t dim that light. But I could make everything around a little quieter and a little less. She was always dearer to me than Jonathan, so I did more for her.There were many things I couldn’t do. I couldn’t scrub my floors for her. I couldn’t remove the tiny shards of glass stuck in lines of grout that she painstakingly scoured the kitchen floor for, on her hands and knees, wincing when her palm dragged across one that she hadn’t seen. I couldn’t stitch my walls back together where Jonathan’s fist had opened holes. I couldn’t save Marie.I’m sorry. This isn’t a tragedy like that.I have a flair for the dramatic now, from the stories that I’ve heard throughout the years. I have always been an eavesdropper, ever since I was born. But I used to tell things better. So allow me my confusion, and I will correct it. They didn’t die here. They simply left. Only one person has died here, and if they remained as a ghost, then it is not as one that I have ever personally known. When I say that I am haunted, I mean that I am haunting myself. I asked for them to stay, and they did not, but the images do. I can hold onto those forever.find out more. TAG LIST: @phloxxiing / @nouveauweird / @pilipalea / @starrywritingg / @carnalbanshee/ @flynnswritings / @ohsugarfoot / @reya-writes / @onfablesandfiction / @reeseweston / @cohldhands / @klaythestoryteller / dm or reply to be added! -- source link
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