The House's Magic

Once upon a time, magic existed across the land. It could be found anywhere - in people, in animals, even in inanimate objects. Everyone had magic. But as life went on, people forgot about the land’s magic. And while it was fading and few remembered a time when the land had been alive with magic, some places still remembered. 

There was one house in particular. It was a crusty old house, with cobwebs and creatures. Some say it was haunted, that you couldn’t blink your eyes for fear of disappearing. Others laughed at the tales of the haunted old house and claimed that it was just a sad house because its owners had abandoned it and no one had bought it.

I wasn’t sure what to believe. I’d seen the tales of magic before and wanted to believe in it, but how could a house be magic?

One night, my friends and I decided to go to the haunted house. The night started out with nary a cloud in the sky, the moon shining bright, the air clear and light. By the time we had arrived at the forest in front of the house, the night changed. Clouds covered the sky, rolling in front of the moon to let it peek through every now and then. The wind howled as the rain began falling in sheets. I quickly removed my hearing aids to put them in my pocket; if they got wet, they’d be ruined. Just as we stepped into the forest, thunder cracked and the sky brightened with the lightning bolt. My friends shivered, looking up. I followed, looking up, unsure of why they shivered.

“What’s wrong?” I asked, signing. I was deaf, so they must’ve heard something I didn’t.

“The trees are creaking. Can’t you hear that?” One of the twins, Jenny, asked. She hesitantly signed, fingerspelling most of what she was saying. Jenny struggled with learning my language; she wasn’t as fluent as her sister. Maria learned ASL, or American Sign Language first, and after, Jenny asked to teach her too. She made sure to shine the torchlight so I could see her lips as well. I did lip-read, which helped when I was around hearing people, but it isn't perfect.

As we came out of the forest to see the haunted house, I looked up, noticing that rain had slacked off. I dropped the bag in my hand. The rain continued - everywhere except the path to the house and the house itself. I pointed up, making Maria and Jenny narrow their eyes.

“How is this possible?” Maria whispered, her hands moving silently in sign language as she sim-commed.

“M-A-G-I-C.” Jenny fingerspelled. I showed her the correct sign, not disagreeing. We all shivered. Several moments passed. Finally, Maria shivered again, breaking the spell. She held out her hands for the bag of dice. 

We’d decided we’d  roll the dice to see who would enter the house and a picture as proof. There was no justice in the world, I thought, as I rolled the designated number.

“I’m so sorry, Clara,” Maria said, signing as she passed me the torchlight. Her twin smirked. “It should be unlocked at least.”

I sighed as I grabbed the torch. “Lucky me.” I looked up again at the rain, and seeing that it wasn’t falling on the path, but instead, it looked as if the house and its’ path was in a protective bubble, I grabbed my hearing aids out of my pants and put them back in. Even though I’d only hear loud muffled sounds, it was better than nothing when I was headed towards the creepy house. I walked slowly towards the front porch, looking behind me every now and then, only to see my friends grin and give me shoo-ing motions. The wind whispered through the trees, whistling against my hearing aids as I crept closer and closer to the house. Finally, I stood on the porch and looked at the giant keyhole. Taking a breath, I looked back once more. They gave me a thumbs up. Nodding my head, I placed my hand on the knob, trying to open the door. It wouldn’t budge.

I tried turning it again. No such luck, it was stuck. I tried pulling and pushing. It stayed closed. All of a sudden, words appeared around the keyhole.

I require a price of an equal item in order to enter, read the glowing words.

“Weird.” I signed, shuddering and began to back up. How did these words appear?  I didn't want to sign that, not knowing who was watching.

New words appeared. I’m not crazy… or weird. Tell me a story. If you promise, I’ll let you in.

I quickly nodded in agreement, thinking maybe it would see me. Did it understand sign? I wondered. With the nod, the lock clicked and the door opened. I took one more look back, and seeing the twin raise their hands in triumphant excitement, I slid inside.

Quickly snapping a photo, I began to back out.

Immediately, the house began shaking - the door slamming shut with a loud bang. I couldn’t hear the footsteps, but felt the vibrations as they came closer and closer, until finally, I heard them. I froze, not moving, hoping it would forget about me. 

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The lights flickered.  Swinging around, I saw the old lady, gnarled and white-haired, her face in a permanent sad smile. “Are you trying to sneak out, dearie?” I saw her lips move. I pointed to my ears and she simply inclined her head, but didn’t repeat her words.

“Who are you?” I finally asked, my voice shaking, signing as well.

“Why, I am the house. Who are you?” She said, having the words appear in the air to make sure that I understood.

“I’m Clara.”

“Lovely to meet you, dearie. Now, you promised me a story. Come, I made tea. Let’s sit in the kitchen.” I shook my head and followed the old woman to the kitchen, the words in the air dispersing as I passed through. Looking around, I sat where she had patted the seat.

“What kind of story do you want?” I asked, trying to calm my shaking hands.

“I want a story of magic and love. One of trials and triumphs. But most of all, of magic.” The lady handed me the tea.

“But, I don’t know any stories like that. Not outside of fairy tales.” I took a sip and smiled. The tea was absolutely delicious. I could drink more of this, I thought.

“Oh dearie me, I want your story. The one that you want to write. Write it, and don’t leave out the magic. There’s more tea in the pot.” With that, the lady disappeared, the words with her, and in her place was a leather-bound journal, made for writing about magic.

I tapped my chin, wondering how she knew I liked to write. Shrugging, I nodded, quickly forgetting about my friends outside as the story consumed my thoughts. At the acceptance, a lit lamp, quill and ink appeared. I placed the torchlight down and then took out my hearing aids, placing them beside the lamp. I always took my hearing aids out before I wrote; I didn’t need them to write. Finally, I reached for the quill. “I have just the thing.” I signed and began to write.

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