Sharing Nightmares

Sandra Grayson || Bird House

Bird House by SheHopes

Wooden pigeons with carved human faces in various shades of gray lined the roof. Dreya Lewis couldn’t help but shudder at the two-story Victorian home known as the Birdhouse. She took a deep breath and sneezed, wishing she was back in the city where her allergies weren’t irritated by all the pine trees that currently surrounded her. 

“Please tell me this isn’t happening. That I’m not going to be stuck here for the next three months, Blake.”

Blake, her assistant, glanced at the red sports watch he always wore on his left wrist and grinned, “I know it may look a little Adam’s Family-ish, but this is the ideal place for you to recover. Those reporters were practically stalking your penthouse and we both know the hospital was no better.”

“This house is beyond creepy,” Dreya told him as he removed her luggage from his rental car. She looked up just in time to see a murder of crows perch themselves on the roof. They simultaneously cocked their heads in her direction. Dreya frowned. Were they staring at her?

“No one but the birds can find you out here,” Blake said before laughing at his own joke.

That’s what she was afraid of. Dreya winced as a sudden pain shot up her left leg. She pulled on the scarf that was tied around her face, hiding her left cheek.  Her assistant was right. In a desperate attempt to sneak into her hospital room, one reporter had even pretended to be a nurse. Nothing sold magazines like a story involving a top actress becoming disfigured in a car accident.

“Still, couldn’t you find something better?” Dreya asked, taking in the home’s chipping gray paint and faded white trim. 

“This was the only home I could rent on such short notice,” Blake explained for the third time that morning.

Dreya’s eyes narrowed, “It’s not haunted, is it? I want to act in horror movies not live them.”

“The real estate agent didn’t mention any ghosts.”

“Of course she wouldn’t. They never tell you when a house is haunted. You find out after you’ve forked over your money and you’re running for your life in the dead of night. Did she at least explain why this is called Birdhouse?”

“The man who built it was an ornithologist,” Blake answered. “The real estate agent said he was obsessed with his feathered friends to the point that even his own family shunned him. It was a long time ago. Besides, the house is in great condition and it’s already furnished.”

“But I hate birds.”

“Give me a good reason why,” Blake said.

“I just do,” Dreya muttered, not able to think of a specific reason.

“Not good enough.”

“But—”

“Stop worrying. Everything’s going to be fine. Listen, three months will pass in no time and then we can get that second opinion on how to repair your scars.”

Dreya raised a hand to her cheek. After recovering from her other injuries, the doctor advised her that no amount of surgery could fully restore her beauty. She paused as another wave of pain ran through her. She leaned against the frame of the door, waiting for the throbbing to subside.

“I’m going to bring in the rest of your things. Your room is upstairs. First door to your right,” Blake said.

Dreya slowly made her way upstairs and entered her bedroom. On the far right of the room was a painting that almost covered the entire wall.  Over a pale yellow background were painted birds surrounding a massive beast that resembled a crow but had the legs of a human and the face of Apollo. Its wings were spread wide and a crown of thistles circled its head. She stared at the beast’s eyes. They were beautiful cerulean blue with flecks of green in the middle. She took a step closer; her hand outstretched, and touched the crow’s head, feeling its slick feathers against her fingertips. She quickly snatched her hand back. Wasn’t this a regular painting? She leaned forward, her eyes fixed on the beast. Dreya swore its chest was moving…as though the beast was breathing.