“The House”

by Piper White

There were only a few things I knew for certain. I knew the layout of my house perfectly: where the bowls were, where the silverware lay in the drawer, spoons on the left, butter knives on the right, and how the couch was pushed against the windows. I also knew that my salt and pepper shakers were always aligned perfectly in the center of the kitchen table. They were glass, cylindrical and the salt was moved over an inch from the pepper when I awoke this morning. One last thing I knew for certain: someone had been in my house. 

I tried really hard to think of what I had for dinner the night before. Pot roast that was already salty enough and didn’t need any extra seasoning. Maybe the carrots or potatoes did? But even then I would have made sure to align the salt next to the pepper shaker so they were touching. An uneasy prickle settled on the nape of my neck. I sipped my tea slowly so if the intruder were still in the house, they wouldn’t hear me. My eyes wandered across my kitchen, but nothing else was out of place. 

Throughout the day, I calmed down. I brushed out my hair with a too-small brush that snagged on a few knots, threw my nightgown into the laundry hamper and put on my favorite teal dress. I even decided to put a little lipstick on just for the hell of it. Like the salt and pepper shakers, everything else had its own special place. I never moved anything. I didn’t have to work today so I did some chores around the house, I dusted my fan, made the bed. The unsettling feeling returned when I passed the kitchen table. I cleaned around and under the salt and pepper shakers. I swept the floors but only found remnants of my own hair in the dust pan. I was just being paranoid. 

For the first time, I slept with my bedroom door locked and a knife on my bedside table.

Every slight noise kept me on guard, but it was simply the house adjusting to get its own sleep. Maybe I was preventing us both from getting adequate sleep. My body must have won because the next thing I knew I jerked myself awake and grabbed the knife. I stood my ground with the air and swung the knife around but it was only me. Luckily I didn’t have the blinds open so nobody could see me threaten the phantom I thought was in my room with me. I breathed in deeply and let out my breath with a sigh. I opened the door and found the house to be peacefully quiet. My curtains were glowing gold and I dropped the knife at my side. Everything was exactly how I left it. 

        Back in the kitchen, I plopped the knife in its holder and got to making breakfast. Today I would have toast with jam to satisfy my sweet tooth. I preferred sweet over salty breakfast most of the time. Once I prepared my toast I sat at the kitchen table. The salt and pepper shakers were in perfect alignment, just as I had left them yesterday. I scratched my head and noticed there was a single braid within my hair. It wasn’t tied off and unraveled loosely at the ends. I always slept with my hair down at night out of fear someone would cut it off in the middle of the night if it were in a ponytail. I wish I could run fingerprints on my own hair because I knew in my heart I wouldn’t find mine. I scraped the toast in the garbage, grabbing another knife to hunt down the perpetrator. 

        “Who is there?’ I asked, pointing the knife in front of me.

        The wind outside my window answered. 

        There were minimal places to hide in my home. If anyone was still here, they could be under the bed or in the closet. My bedroom, my solace, invaded. I knelt down, knife at the ready and lifted the bedding. Alas, the only thing I was met with was the old carpet. Frustrated, fear leaving my body, I threw open my closet, finding only my dresses and jackets on their hangers. 

        “Where are you?” I yelled into the void. 

        The house grumbled and I held onto the bed. Was there a bigger monster in the house tormenting me? The front door opened on its own and I knew someone must have stolen my keys. I screamed to scare away the intruder, but the grumbling of furniture and the shaking of the house continued. 

   ***

“I think she wants to have company today,” Aria said. “She seems so lonely.”

“I brought Polly with me,” Aria’s friend, Dana, said. 

She ran over to her duffle bag, pulling out her own small doll. Aria turned her attention

back to her own. She leaned against the bed frame while Aria rearranged some of the furniture within the dollhouse. Every-so-often she would redecorate with new pieces her mother bought her at the toy store. Her doll seemed so lonely in the big dollhouse. While Dana dressed Polly in a new outfit, Aria grabbed her little doll, removing the braid she had placed in her hair before returning to bed the night before. She took her small brush and ran it through her doll’s hair, picking out a new outfit from the closet to prepare for Polly’s visit.