The Sparrow – 02
“What the hell,” my voice came out in a whisper as I stared at the chandelier. The smell of musty dirt and something long since rotten wafted up in waves as I crawled forward; lacy fingers reaching, ready to snatch me and drag me down into the earth.
I’m not one to make a habit of believing in ghost stories. The gal who sold me this house had tried to talk me out of it. She said that the couple who lived here before had vanished. After months of searching and investigation there was no trace of them. She was of the mind that the place was haunted and a single woman shouldn’t live here alone. I remember thinking, if ghosts were able to carry away two people, why does it matter if I’m only one?
But odd things had started happening a few months after I moved in. At first, it was small things. A door left open when I was certain I had closed it, small household items being found in places that I didn’t remember leaving them. When my work consumes me I can become forgetful, or so I told myself. I’d talked myself out of being paranoid by focusing on the most logical explanation. It was only when the animals started acting strange that the hackles stood up on the back of my neck.
Slowly, I sat back on my haunches and brought my eyes level with the strange object. It wasn’t odd in and of itself, but having it propped there under my house made it seem ominous. Leaning forward, I carefully brushed the cobwebs away to get a better look. It was the exact same chandelier that hung in my living room; old and outdated, plastic with cheap bulbs, grimy fake crystals hanging off it like forgotten consolation prizes.
My eyes scanned the wall of the house in the dim light. Searching for something that would make this all fall into place, though I didn’t know what that could be. A light switch perhaps? Some lawn chairs set about in a circle? Maybe someone had thought this was a great summer time hang out, roasting marshmallows in the glow of lamplight rather than firelight. Tucked away out of nosey-neighbor-view. Outside, but sheltered from strangers walking by wanting to talk, even though eye contact had been pointedly avoided.
The ground sank slightly as I repositioned myself to look at the other side of the chandelier. That was odd. I gently pressed my hand to the rough pebbles in a small arc around my knees. Solid, solid, a small creak wheezed up, pressing dusty air between my fingers. The faint scent of lavender and peppermint tickled my nose. With a choking grasp curiosity was replaced by a jolt of fear, some reptilian part of my brain shooting electric alarm bells through my body.
I began to scramble backwards towards the light when there was a sudden, splintering crack and I was falling! I hit the ground with a sharp thud and stared up from the floor beneath the floor of my porch. As the edges of my vision grew fuzzy I wondered where that damn sparrow had gone.
Cultivating Sunshine 