![]() She smiles at me again, her powdered face cracking with the strain. In fact, if I didn’t know better, she could be my own grandmother. I narrow my eyes at her, scrutinising every feature, every wrinkle, every hair. I desperately want to pull away, but I force myself to sit still. Her skin is papery and flaking, smudged with dull brown marks. She reaches out again, her hand lying across my knee. She smiles at me, her lips drawing over rows of yellowed and crooked teeth. She has on a grotesquely red shade of lipstick, which has bled onto the surrounding skin like a stain. Her green eyes are deep-set, ringed with an intricate maze of creases. ![]() Her hair isn’t completely grey, as I’d assumed, but speckled with slivers of brown. Now that it’s not so dim I can see her properly. The lamp next to her shudders slightly, the fringing around the lampshade quivering. ![]() She wraps her fingers around a switch, and the room is flooded with a muted yellow light. She reaches up, her gnarled hands never unfurling from their clenched position. The question rings through the silence like an accusation, her words pointing a judgemental finger at me. Something familiar, something close to home. There’s something about this woman I recognise. She tugs at the threadbare shawl draped across her shoulders, the gesture making my stomach writhe. The old woman and I stare at each-other, her wiry grey hair forming a wild halo around her face. Once again I’m struck by an intense feeling of being lost, as if I’ve stumbled into someone else’s life and don’t know how to get out of it. The material is rough against my skin, chafing my bare forearm. I do as she says, slowly lowering myself into a faded green armchair. I hesitate, stealing a glance back down the hallway. There’s much we have to discuss.”Īn arthritic hand extends from the gloom, beckoning me over. I tug at my shirt again, by now stretching the fabric beyond repair. My skin prickles with sudden fear, the hair on the nape of my neck standing to astute attention. The air is even staler here, weighed down with the acrid stench of old perfume. It licks at the walls above, making them charred and blackened. I see the fire first, roaring and built-up high in a bricked hearth. I force my feet onward, force myself to face whatever it is I was brought here to face. I can hear the crackle of flame, feel its warmth seeping through my clothes. I cannot remember why I’m here, or even how I got here. I continue around the corner, self-consciously pulling at the hem of my shirt, winding it around my fingers. Its fur is matted and sleeked with dirt what I assume was once a white cat is now a ruddy brown. A cat snakes its way around my ankles, staring up at me with intense, mismatched eyes. Angled shelves adorn the wall, empty glass bottles coated with dust teetering precariously on their edges. The floral wallpaper is yellowed and peeling, exposing rotted beams of wood that pulse with the presence of termites within. I can get a better bearing on my surroundings, now. It glimmers from around the corner, undulating as if caught in a gentle breeze. I barely make a sound as I move through the room, my husky breathing my sole companion.Īnd then I see it, the promise of light. The carpet is soft beneath my feet, the long, shaggy piles intertwining with my bare toes. The air is humid, an almost palpable stale I ignore my urge to open a window and continue on. The room is dim, shadows cloaking every surface.
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