We were moving to a town, I suppose. I only recall breakfast in a strange hotel...or inn perhaps. The keeper had grown quite attached the the young couple she'd taken in so I'm assuming she had been telling us things about our new home all night.I wasn't eating, although there was a lovely breakfast before me. Something was bothering my stomach, something about these stories. We were moving into the old manor of a doctor from the 30's. Not only did we find it at an amazingly affordable price, but it was isolated with a small town not too far away and we were told it was still in amazing condition.
The path from town that led to our new home was short but it took us through a quarter mile of woods. As the woods fell behind us the path continued in a field-esque area and then more trees. The tall grass grew high above the dirt path then turned into tall trees once more. I told my significant other how amazing it was. So beautiful, even for fall. Before we knew it we were in front of a building.
"The lady at the Inn said that this place used to belong to the town doctor." he smiled widely at me and I felt the warmth in my face return it. We unlocked the door and ventured in.
The front hallway had a large stairwell that clearly led up to a hallway that immediately started at the top of the hallway, the walls were all a blank cream color, probably just from time and existing. Instead of wandering up I continued down the front hall to a small door past the stairwell. There was no ordinary handle, the door was a sliding door and it disappeared into the wall it sat so perfectly in. I screamed out to my husband that the kitchen door from the hallway was awesome and continued happily into the kitchen. I saw that it wasn't very well furnished, there was a large counter spread underneath cabinets on the right side, a large sink was at the end of it, looking large enough to put a whole turkey in for cleaning and plucking. There was also a central preparing island and in the corner on the opposite side a very nice wooden table. The varnish was slightly worn and there were four chairs tucked underneath it, the walk in pantry visible on the wall behind it, the door slightly the the right of where I assumed the doctor and his family dined. At this point I assumed my husband was trying to find the doctors quarters, the place he did all his work. From what we were told at the Inn, this man had been a great help for the local family for years and years. He was a kind man with an even kinder wife. I smiled at my new kitchen, staring out the windows and door to our great wooded surroundings. It seemed the house led straight back into a patch of woods, with nothing but trees all around a small semi circle of where the kitchen's outside door led. It seemed strange that people then were so apt to not clearing trees for backyard space, although I recalled thinking it wouldn't be that strange, seeing as there was plenty of field space near the front of the house. I turned and started examining the furniture. The cabinets were painted the same cream and they had panes of glass in them. No elegant designs, nothing special. I walked over and popped on open, with a literal pop the door opened and the old brass clip system was the reason why. I marveled at how well kept such an antique was, especially in a house older than the first three generation of my family. The brass even gleamed a little in the light peering from behind us. I closed it and kept walking around, at one point placing my hand on the center separate counter and running it along as I walked toward the pantry.I moved slowly and each bit of dust that collected on my fingertips felt like small pieces of glass shreading apart the very prints that resided there. I moved my hand up and caught a small speck of blood moving down my finger. Looking down at the counter I saw that there was nothing around that could have damaged my finger, unless it was the old dust itself. An unsettling feeling filled my stomach and I made my way toward the pantry door. The door was painted a bland blue that seemed faded but I was sure that was the color of the paint the day they smeared it on the wood. This door also slide open and I started to wonder if the kind doctor's wife had perhaps been too weak to open these thick doors, so he put them on a sliding system for her. I slide it open and walked in. The light from the windows didn't reach here. the room was very large but so dark I couldn't tell if it had shelving or was empty. I felt along the wall for a light switch just to be shocked by friction. I then considered a dangling light and went toward the middle of the room feeling high above me for some sort of rope or string attached to a light source. For a moment I questioned weather or not they had electricity, seeing as the windows I'd seen in the house were large and grand. The ceiling very high to accommodate those very same windows.
For some reason, standing there in the dark pantry, I stopped moving. Something in my head was telling me the story of a doctor who was not as kind as the one I'd been told about. No, it spoke of tortures I couldn't imagine. All that darkness...
"Well, you still have eyes. You can still see." I'm opening those said eyes and looked up to see my husband's face and had no memory of my eyes ever being in danger.
