The House Where They Lay

Hailey Higdon-O’Mara

How would one describe to you a feeling of unease, set off by the overabundance of normality? As I walked through the man’s house, nothing, and yet everything seemed out of place. The house felt like it gave off a facade of normality. Too neat. Too clean. Just too normal to the point it’s not. The carpets were fluffy and clean as if they were treated regularly. The pillows were almost systematically pressed up against the couch with blankets neatly folded up on top. The books on the shelves, ordered by size, tallest to shortest, thickest to thinnest. The paintings, evenly hung. The lamps all angled at an exact 45 degrees from the wall to get the best lighting of the room. The blinds all down yet slightly tilted up. Even the family pictures on the mantel felt ordered as if to bring in guests with a convincing story. And yet, without my current knowledge, I would have probably just brushed it off as an anxious feeling. Just as all the man’s other “guests” did. The house wasn’t a big one, but the many doors could make any man become lost. One door led to another which led to another, until you were back where you started. The muted, colorless tones throughout every room of the house made you feel like you were trapped in a loop. The house had a strange absence of natural light, but it was in no shape dimly lit. The intricately placed lamps shone like interrogation lights as not a single shadow fell visibly present. As if to give a sense of transparency as they couldn’t possibly lie, not to you. All the while, they would hide their secrets just out of sight. As I found myself in the kitchen, the slight pinch of the bleach burned the hairs of my nose. I could sense the smell getting stronger as I walked deeper into the house. The cocktail of chemicals getting more intense with each step. I made my way through the maze, led by the sting in my nostrils, until I found myself in front of yet another plain, normal door. And yet, everything about this door sent shivers down my spine. It was the same as all those hundreds of other doors I had stumbled through, and yet this one, this one shook me to my very core. It took everything in me to fight the raw instinct to just run and get out of there, knowing the horrors awaiting me behind this door. It looked like every other, but knowing what I know now, the slight foul, rotten stench lurking behind the chemicals confirmed my fears. The location of where the man’s poor, unknowing “guests” now forever reside, lying right in front of me. Only that inch of seeming normality separating us.