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Saturday, October 27, 2007

The Brownstone (fictional story) page 2 of 5

As he welcomed me I could not help but wonder what was going on and asked “I thought I was not welcome here”. After giving a bewildered look for a few moments the guy said “you were not welcome here together as a group” for which there was bewilderment from the guy who then said “it has been a long time since you left and we were trying to make sure everything was perfect for your return”. As I stood there bewildered he sensed that I didn’t know what he was talking about but struggled to find the words to give an adequate explanation.

After a few agonizing minutes which seemed like hours he asked “do you remember who I am” then looked lost as I just shook my head in response unable to find the words a few moments later I mustered enough to ask “what happened to all of my friend that I was in there with” for which he said “those were not friends they were people who have worked here that had to go looking for you and bring you home”. As the guy tried to ease the feelings I had the house was slowly starting to spruce itself up almost like there were invisible workers cleaning up and polishing where needed, then the bed disappeared and in its place was an old bench that was more of an elongated telephone table.

As I looked around the living room more details came into light that were not there before including old turn of the century pictures and old oil paintings. Of the oil paintings the largest one the closest one which now hung over the mantle piece was a large one that had me in it but it wasn’t me. The painting has what looked like my great grandparents but a lot younger than I remembered but it also had others in the painting as well people who looked like I should know them but yet unable to recognize them.

As the old turn of the century pictures came into focus I walked up to get a closer look at them and there were some that were even older. They were so old that you could tell that they were taken when photography was still relatively new but yet there I was again even younger with the people who looked like my great grandparents and this time there were other people there that looked like they could be the parents of my great grandparents all of who looked really young. As I looked at the pictures and paintings on the walls, the guy came out and said “this house is yours, it is your birthright, it is your home and it is calling you home for it misses you dearly”.

While looking at the pictures I started remembering some of the moments in the pictures but they didn’t seem like they happened ages ago but rather a few years ago and the memories started coming back like those moments happened just yesterday. As I moved on to the oil paintings other than the one over the mantle piece none of the paintings looked familiar with the exception of one for which the guy told me that I had painted myself. As we moved along I was trying to make my way to the darkened doorway that even with all of the new detail was still darkened and the guy was trying to prevent me from peering into the room because he was saving it for after I remembered who I was.

As I tried harder and harder to get to the darkened doorway the more he tried to keep me from peering into it until I finally asked “if this is all mine then why can’t I see into a room that is mine” for which he said “it isn’t ready for you to enter it” without knowing what he was talking about I asked “why would that be” which brought a puzzled look to his face and he tried to mutter a few words and could not, then was forced to abandon his attempts to keep me from peering in. As he let me walk up to the darkened doorway I started having trouble walking closer and closer to it until I hit what felt like a brick wall but there was nothing there.

After being stopped in place the woman looked out at me as she was passing the door and said “you can’t come in here yet we’re not ready to have you” so I went back to the walls of pictures and looked at more of the pictures since I could not get any closer to the darkened doorway. The fact that I wasn’t allowed to peer into the darkened doorway didn’t stop me from trying to get closer and closer and actually noticed that the house seemed to be leading me to the abyss at the side of the door instead of the darkened doorway. When I finally realized that I decided to ask “if this is my birthright to be here in my home then why am I being led back towards the front door and on the side of the hole in the floor”?

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