Haunted Escape | ONC 2022

.4.

Chapter 4

My stuff from the apartment barely fills this entire house, but it's already starting to feel more like home.

I've given the kitchen and bathrooms a quick scrub, decorating them with pictures on the walls and overflowing plant pots on the windowsills. I've sorted the master bedroom and made it exactly how I want it to look, and Jinx has been having the time of his life exploring the house and attacking the few spiders I've seen scuttling across the floorboards. There's a lot left to do, but I have plenty of time.

I'm in what I think used to be a hobby room, taking the dusty sheets off of each piece of furniture. It's been a fun little game, uncovering each artefact that must hold so much of its own history. I uncovered a Grandfather clock in the hall yesterday and was surprised to see that it still works, although the time that showed was at least eight hours behind. I wouldn't be surprised if it's over a hundred years old. A real antique that I don't think I'd have the heart to sell.

I pull the sheet off what I soon learn is an art easel. There's a canvas there, painted over with perfect brush strokes and a beautiful mix of colours, but with no particular meaning behind them. It's not finished either, but I already long to hang it up on a wall somewhere.

I hear the tiny jingle of a bell and turn around to see Jinx trotting into the room. He leaps up onto a desk and delicately sits down, watching me with curiosity.

"You and I both know I'm not very talented with a paintbrush," I smile.

He raises his front leg to lick at his paw with elegance.

"I mean, I could try and learn. But I'd prefer to teach myself the piano. Maybe liven this place up with some music," I say. I realise that talking to my cat would appear strange to anyone who doesn't own some sort of pet, but at this point it's second nature. Jinx has always been someone I can talk to, even if the conversation is pretty one sided.

I walk over to him and he lifts his head, silently asking me to stroke the fluff between his pointy ears. I do so, hearing his little purrs as I scratch at the skin of his neck before lifting him up into my arms.

"There's a room I haven't checked out across the hall," I say. "Let's go have a look."

He happily stays curled up in my arms as I carry him out of the hobby room and over to a door I have yet to open. As soon as I do, a huge library is revealed, with what must be hundreds, possibly thousands, of books. The sight of the place fills me with a glowing happiness, even when the dust tickles at the back of my throat and it's clear the place needs a good clean. One of my biggest dreams in life has been to have a home library, and that dream just came true.

There's a fireplace buried into the shelves and I already long to curl up into the red armchair with a cosy fire going and make it through every one of these books. Jinx clearly has the same idea, as he jumps from my arms and leaps into the chair, spinning a few times before getting comfortable. I wander around the room, reading through the many titles and authors written along the spines, and I find that I recognise quite a few. But there's still many I have yet to delve into.

The sound of something falling and smashing behind me startles my heart out of my chest. At first I think it's just Jinx getting out of his chair and knocking something over in the process, but what I see is definitely not something I was expecting.

A boy, sheepishly looking down at the mess of glass on the floor, is stood there.

He looks up, meeting my eyes, and all I can do is stare back. Where the hell did he come from?

"Hi," he says, giving me an awkward wave before pointing to the shattered vase on the floor. "I hope that wasn't important to you."

"It was my Grandmother's," I say dryly.