In My Father's House - 1. In My Father's House

In my father's house, there are many rooms, and I had inherited them all. I do not know what my brothers had done to piss him off, but when they read the will, I inherited the largest chunk of Pops' estate. Me, the black sheep of the family, the one Pops kicked out of the nest, then did not speak to until his directions from beyond the grave named me his chosen one.

"So the prodigal son inherits it all," sneered my eldest brother Jeb as he spoke to his wife and Robert, the next eldest.

"I don't know, Jeb, Damien didn't leave until the night that Pops and Aunt Matilda had that big fight. You were not living at home then, but I was home on break. They really raised a ruckus, then Matilda grabbed Damien and pushed him at Pops and Pops said he would rather see him dead first. Damien was white as a ghost. Pops literally threw him out that night and told him to never come back. He wasn't even old enough to get a job."

"Then why did he come back?"

"He was listed in the will." Jeb's wife, Veronica, said, stroking her husband's arm. "He doesn't seem to be very happy about being here."

"I still think Pops could have sold it and split it." Jeb carried on.

"Damien lives in the subbasement of a tenant building. Obviously this is a better home for him, we do not need it or the money. Let him have it." Robert told Jeb.

I could not stand their banter; I was not part of their lives any more than they were part of mine. I walked far enough away that I could not hear their hurtful comments. I was glad I had, before the heartache had a chance to fester. All I wanted was for them to leave. Pops had left the house to me with everything in it that was not specifically listed as one of the other's inheritance. I wanted to explore my new home. I wanted? I wanted to get to know the man my father had been.

They finally left just before midnight, leaving me alone. Out of habit, I went to the room where I grew up to sleep. It appeared that Pops had not moved a thing since the day he threw me out to make it on my own in the world. Everything was there, including the pop star posters on the walls. It did not make sense, why would he throw me out, then not change anything. With this thought in my mind, I lay down on sheets not slept on in ten years and stared up at the ceiling.

Time passed slowly as my thoughts drifted to Pops' house, which was now mine. It creaked at night. When I was little, Jeb and Rob used to tell me the creaking was ghosts. Unfortunately, I did not believe them then. However, in the time I had been gone, well, I now believe in ghosts. It was a good thing too because when I looked up Pops was standing at the end of my bed. I did not panic or scream or do anything stupid, instead, I sat up and looked at him.

"So, Pops, why did you do it?" Of course, I knew a ghost could not talk, at least I had never met one who could, but they could, and often did communicate. That is what I was hoping for with Pops. That he would speak with me now in death when he had been unwilling to do so in life. Pops stood there, looking at me. The feeling I was getting was not one of judgment but one of curiosity. I sat up on the bed and looked him in the eye; he smiled and sunk downward into the floor.

Deep in my gut, I felt he wanted me to follow him; at least that is what I hoped he wanted as most ghosts gave a bit more indication. I got up and headed down stairs, as I suspected Pops' ghost stood there still emitting the sense of curiosity, then he sunk into the floor again. Perplexed, I stood there and wondered what he wanted now, as there were no other floors to our home. At least I, in all my fifteen years of living here, had never discovered a basement. When I did not follow, Pops' specter returned and passed through the wall into one room I dared not follow -- Pops's study. As a child, and even as a teenager, I had been forbidden to enter this room, but now, as an adult, he welcomed me into it. Still, it did not feel right. My skin seemed to crawl as I entered the forbidden room.

Could this be what he wanted me to find? I looked up at him the question on my tongue, and he turned and walked toward me then through me, toward an alcove in the wall. I shivered and turned only to see through him standing before what appeared to be a skull. Now, Pops had just had a good Christian funeral so why would he have pagan items in his study?

Near the skull lay a tipped over glass, some candles, and a book. The book was open so I stepped up next to Pops and picked it up. The candles flickered on. The words, at first, appeared to be in an ancient language but I quickly discovered the code and was able to read the passage. It told how to get to the basement. I looked at Pops; he smiled. There were other pages, many other pages. I wondered what secrets the little book held, but Pops sunk through the floor. By following the directions, I found myself staring at a set of stairs.

Tentively, I traveled downward; spiraling deep into the earth, the walls were bricked and eventually were slick with slime. The musty smell was beginning to get to me when I rounded the final turn only to find myself in a cavern filled with pagan paraphernalia and books. There waiting for me was my Aunt Matilda.

"Hello?" I spoke hesitantly.

"Welcome Damien, we are pleased you have found your way," Matilda said as she crossed over to hug me.

"I didn't expect to see you here," I told her honestly.

"I've been waiting for you for a very long time, Damien. You are a very special lad."

"Special? Me?" I shook my head, "No way."

"You saw a ghost."

"What if I did?"

"Your father saw them too. It's a gift."

"I didn't ask for it."

"We usually don't ask for these type gifts, Damien, they too often come with duties."

"Duties?"

"To aid and protect the dead in your case. Your father did it well."

It was a heady thought.

"Do you know why your father threw you out when you were so young?"

I shook my head, I could guess but I did not know.

"Ghosts would come to visit you, Damien, trying to get past the wards. They wanted your attention, but your father would not let you come into the family business before your full potential had been reached. He was of the opinion that you needed life experience, away from the ghosts. I disagreed." She laughed then, "but he won the argument by forcing you away. They would tell him about you though. The dead would. They spied on you and in time, your abilities were strong enough that he would allow a few to come to you for aide."

I did not know what to say. This was so different of my memories of what happened. The constant fighting -- me never being good enough for him. It made no sense.

"What is this?" I asked, indicating the cavern.

"This was his sanctuary, no ghosts were allowed here."

I nodded;"I need to think."

Matilda pointed me toward a corridor, which I followed to a door. It opened easily and I stepped out at the base of the cliff on which Pops' house, now my house, resided.

The sky was still mostly overcast, with patches of sky showing through. As I stared up toward the heavens, spirits manifested around me. They were cold, cold as the night. I dealt with them the best I was able, thinking this is what I was born to do.

I was home, I thought with a smile as the clouds finally parted and the silver dust of moonlight settled coldly on the night.

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