Elinor's House

A few days ago I went for a walk after I'd been sitting at my desk too long. Lost in thought I trudged down the sidewalk until I noticed a couple with a baby carriage coming at me from the opposite direction. I made a right turn because I did not feel like engaging in any cursory interaction, even if it was as simple as just nodding my head in greeting. Staying home alone all day renders me kind of phobic around strangers. It's as if the shyness and awkwardness of my grade-school years has returned full force. I seemed a lot more normal when I was still dancing in bars because the job required me to interact with others. Now I often go days without speaking a single word. After veering right I passed a sign that said "No Outlet" so I realized I was walking down a cul-de-sac. It turned out to be a remarkably long cul-de-sac. Towards the end of it I noticed a house with a "For Sale by Owner" sign planted on its front lawn. The small sign languished near the porch and its coloration made it very hard to notice. I doubted that I would have even seen it if I had been driving. After crossing the street I read the hand-lettered description which informed me that the property was a three bedroom, two bathroom house with an 800-square-foot garage. I glanced up and noticed that something about the garage pulled my attention to right away although I was not sure why. The sign also proclaimed that the owner would "review all offers" and provided a phone number with an Orange County prefix. I walked away after staring at the dwelling for a few long minutes. Within five seconds I nearly strode right past a steep, wooden staircase leading from this street to the one below it. This neighborhood has many such pedestrian walkways that the original planners included when they designed the layout of the subdivision. I'd lived in the area for nearly nine months and still regularly came across new pedestrian thoroughfares that I had not yet encountered in my daily jogs or walks. It always kind of tripped me out when I found a new one. I decided to go down this staircase and counted about 39 steps as I descended. It deposited me onto a street that I did not immediately recognize, but after strolling for a few minutes I saw my friend Tim's Chevy Blazer parked in front of his house. I smiled as I reflected on the oddity of this little community in the hills. The twisting streets curved around so much that it was very easy to get disoriented. Here I was two blocks from home and yet I'd felt a bit lost just moments earlier. I went back up the staircase and walked home.

Yesterday my friends Tim and Raul came over to my place. I mentioned the house for sale because Raul is looking for a house. Tim grew up in this area so he knew the street I was talking about and described the location to Raul.

"Did you get the number of the owner?" Raul asked.

"No, I didn't." I said. "I wasn't sure if you'd want to see it or not."

Raul and I decided to drive over to the house while Tim headed home. We drove right past it because I did not spot the place until we had gone too far. Raul put the car in reverse and stopped in front of it. I copied the number off the sign while he gazed at the home with genuine interest.

"It has bars on some of the windows." he commented. "Isn't that strange for this neighborhood?"

I agreed that it was odd and we both swivelled in our seats to look at the surrounding houses. None of them had iron security bars. Raul asked me to call the seller for him since he hates talking on the phone even more than I do. He dropped me off at home so he could go back to his office. Fifteen minutes later I was speaking with the seller on the phone and he gave me a bunch of information about the property. Evidently his aunt and uncle had lived there since 1960. No, he would not consider a lease option agreement because the home had been placed in a trust and he wanted to sell it quickly. He told me that the cracks in the garage and in the pavement were not as bad as they looked and that he had some type of geological survey attesting to the fact that the residence was not sliding backwards down the hill upon which it sat. Of course warning bells went off in my head. He paused and waited for me to end the phone call but I didn't. Encouraged, he went on to tell me where one of the neighbors left the keys during the daytime so prospective buyers could look it over. Finally he gave me his name, I gave him mine, and then we hung up.

Twenty minutes later I was entering the house. Raul was too busy to stop by but Tim had said he would come look at it. After all, he only had to get to the pedestrian walkway and go up the wooden staircase to join me. It was taking him longer than I had expected so I decided to go in without him. I fumbled with the keys. One of them had a white, circular tag that said "Elinor's house" and the other bore a white, circular tag that said "Elinor's garage". I fit the appropriate key into the lock on the iron doorscreen and walked into Elinor's house. Somebody had died in there. I just felt it. Ostensibly it was an elderly person who had lived out his or her declining days in these rooms. I wandered around the rooms and then outside into the backyard. After a few moments I entered the garage. Someone had clearly been using it for a lot of business recently. I wanted to get out of there.

After locking all the doors I exited the premises and replaced the keys in their hiding spot. Tim still had not arrived so I went to the wooden staircase. Sure enough, Tim was heading up the pedestrian walkway.

"Sorry I'm late." he apologized.

"I already went in there." I told him. "It's pretty interesting. Come check it out."

He followed me and we let ourselves into the place. I purposely had withheld my thoughts about the property so I could watch his reaction. He wandered around the rooms.

"This is strange." he said. "This layout just doesn't make sense."

I nodded although he could not see me from where he was standing.

"I've gotta use the bathroom." he called from across the house. "Hopefully the water is still on."

I decided to walk out to the garage and headed to the back door. Once there I realized that it was not the same back door I'd used the last time. To my right was a doorway leading into a room I had not even noticed during my last tour. I pushed it open and then recoiled in horror.

"Tim!" I called out.

I heard a toilet flush and realized that he probably had not heard me. The bathroom door opened and his footsteps fell across the floor.

"Hey.. check this out." I said with a touch of alarm.

He found my voice and then came to where I was standing. He looked where I was looking.

"Oh, my God.. " he exclaimed.

An overwhelming stench emanated from the dank little room. Indescribable layers of mold covered every surface: ceiling, walls, and floor. It was absolutely nauseating and Tim walked in there. I didn't.

"What is this place?" he wondered aloud. "Or what was it? It must have been the laundry room."

I said: "No, the hook-ups are in that other room."

Simultaneously Tim said: "But there are no hook-ups in here."

Our sentences clanged together and we both wore repulsed expressions on our faces as we surveyed the horrible little room with fungus coating its every dimension.

"We shouldn't even be breathing this." I said.

Tim snapped back into reality.

"No, we really shouldn't." he said as he stepped quickly out of there.

We went outside and around the side of the house where we encountered a large shed of sorts that was built into a brick wall. Upon opening it we discovered the same grisly type of mold covering every one of its surfaces too. We both recoiled yet again and neither of us had any desire to examine the interior too closely. Tim quickly shut and fastened the door.

Next we ventured into the garage.

"Wow." was all Tim said at first.

"I wonder what they did in here." he mused out loud a few minutes later after surveying the place

We both noted the huge air conditioner connected to the ceiling and another large one mounted to a wall. Five ladders led up to a loft-type area above our heads. There were numerous electrical outlets around the place and, inexplicably, a bunch of what looked like seatbelt straps hanging down from the loft area. We stared at all of it and then went into a bathroom that had been built into the garage. It contained a toilet, sink, and shower. Before leaving Tim found a safe built into the concrete floor of the structure and we played around with that, hastily stopping when we heard a car pull up. We exited the garage and I heard Tim mumbling something about "paranoia" as we walked back in the house. He seemed to be speaking about the former occupants' modification of the place rather than our quick abandonment of the safe when we had heard the car. I noticed that he was looking at some of the iron bars.

After locking up and replacing the keys we took the wooden staircase to Tim's house. We discussed the other property at length.

"That place was like a dungeon." he said more than once. "It was just like a dungeon."

That night I did not sleep well. My nightmares were filled with images that belonged in a dungeon..



(to be continued.. )











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