A Haunting

Ariel had heard stories from her father many times before he had died - but there was one that he had never ended. The history of the town was quiet, a small rural area that had been settled a time before where people lived lives according to custom and wants. But the history of multiple hauntings left the town in silent acceptance of it's fate.1

History had never inspired Ariel to anything before. She despised the monotonus lessons of school teachers, learning constantly about the freedom the world had won and apparently lost in the same moment (according to her). But the small town ghost stories intriqued her, especially when the most recient focused itself around her late father's farm house... and the story of a presence that her father had never been able to explain.2

His house had stood on the edge of town, just beyond the tallest line of trees. The clearing it stood in looked no more open than the dense forest around it because of the looming farm house that occupied it. Ariel had returned to the house often, loosing herself in memories as she walked around the grounds of the house.3

She didn't understand why the family had never sold the house, why her mother had moved out as soon as father had died. But it somehow seemed right to keep the farm in the family, even though her mother was long gone as well. She continued to keep the grounds of the house looking nice, though no one but her remained to visit the area. it wasn't until she took the chance to look inside that it all changed.4

It was another day where the wind had called her back to the homeplace, for that was what she had come to call the old farm house. She tidied up the gardens and swept the back porch like she often did. But when she went to tend the front lawn she noticed a distinct difference since her last visit. The front door was open.5

Looking around for someone near she stood silently and listened for an intruder. If she listened closely she could hear the sound of running water as if from a pump, much like the one in the back yard that her father used to bring water from... but the well had been dry for years now. The sound faded away, and footsteps, light whispers of steps returned to the front of the house.6

Ariel could have sworn she was hearing things... she just wanted her father to be back home again, wanted her family to live in peace within the farm house of her birth. She was sure it was just dilusion, until the front door slammed shut and locked itself.7

In momentary panic Ariel rushed back to her car and locked herself within the confining space. When her breath had calmed to a more normal rhythm her curiosity peaked. Her father had once spoke of a spirit that made a pact with family after family to guard and tend the house it resided in. As long as the spirit was undesturbed, it lent it's power and ability to guard the family from disease and famine - lending protection from the dangers of the outside world.8

Out of curiosity, Ariel wondered if the reason the story had never had an ending was because it wasn't finished yet. Pulling the old home key from her purse, she removed herself from her car and approached the house cautiously. Placing her key in the lock she turned it carefully, jumping slightly when the lock jumped out of place.9

Slowly she pushed the door inward until she was looking into her old house. The room was the same, though covered in dust and empty of furnature. Cautiously, wary of rot and decay, she stepped into the greeting hallway of the house. There was no resounding shift of rotting wood, no creaking of decay and age. It was as if the house was as new as it had been twenty years earlier when her parents had passed away.10

Growing a bit more daring she traced her way through the familiar rooms, looking around for some clue as to the reason for all of this. There was no rot, just layer upon layer of dust and cobwebs. Where was the fading of paint, the chipping of careful leafing on the cabniets? There wasn't anything to say this house wasn't a day older than it had been when she had left so many years ago.11

Following a memory, Ariel returned to the downstairs family room from her bedroom upstairs. Turning towards the mantle above the fire place she saw a sight that surprised her. The large bronze vase her mother and father had so treasured sat securely in the center as if it had been over looked. No dust touched it's surface and it gleemed as brightly as polished metal in the dim forest light.12

Reaching forward and slightly above her eye level she touched a single finger to the edge of the vase. A shock ran through her body, and she jerked away as the vase fell to one side and bounced around the floor beside the fireplace. She wasn't sure if it had been her movement that had knocked the vase over or something much more... insubstantial. But she knew the moment the vase stopped that something was very, very wrong.13

Abandoning the vase to the floor she rushed to the door and jerked it open, not even bothering to close it as she raced for her car. She dove into the driver's seat and started the engine just as the front door slammed itself behind her, the sound of the lock clicking back into place ringing in the forest clearing. Without a backwards look, Ariel drove away, panic in her heart and warning in her soul.14

A week later when she returned to the old farm house she was shocked to see the obvious signs of rot and decay on the outside of the house. She was amazed to see the roof beginning to colapse as pieces of the house fell to the ground in the decay of age.15

Each week she returned to a house that looked less and less than the one she had left that day. And each week she knew more clearly than ever why her family had never sold the precious house... for how could they have sold it when her father had never told her what would happen should that spirit (for she was sure that's what it had been in the bronze vase) be disturbed.16

A month passed, and another. And one week, when she went back to see what remained of the house she had torn down with a touch, she could find nothing but a few shards of glass, a piece or two of splintered board, and a meadow in the middle of the forest with a rise in the center of the circle, covered in ivy and grass. And there, glinting slightly in the sunlight, lay a aged bronze vase, half covered by dirt and encased in vines of ivy.17