Original Stories Fan Fiction ❯ Whispering Lulliabies ❯ Chapter 1

Whispering Lullabies

 

 

I awake on a bright yellow quilt. The sun filters through me to the light sapphire walls, I leave no shadow. Sometimes I sleep and sometimes I cant, it depends how I feel, if I can feel. I sigh and the papers on the desk in the corner tremble. I stand up and go over to the full-length mirror. I don't see myself. I never see myself. I only saw my self once and that was once when I was standing next to a very old man, he was near death. I do wonder what I look like. Daniel says I have plain brown-black hair with curls at the ends. I have big honey eyes and a small nose. He never talks about my mouth except that I have very red lips and that when I am sad they turn blue. I wear an out of fashion gown, maybe early 1900s.

I never asked how he knew about the different dates, I don't know any dates, unless the people I am haunting say them. Besides if I ask he probably wouldn't tell me and he would just get irritable. I don't remember dates or clothes, I don't remember anything. Such comes these things when you are dead.

 

Daniel, I call him my guide, even though I have been dead longer then him. After at least three families moved in and out or died, my fourth family came in. He was suddenly there. I didn't understand it. He was a ghost too and knew a whole lot more than I did when I started, though I didn't and still don't know if he just died or died a while ago. He surprised me just the same. It was difficult to have another ghost in the house after it was I for so long. But it made no difference. He keeps to him self, expect when he wants to talk. He talks a lot. After he first told me how I look and I found he couldn't see him self either, I told him how he looked. I am ashamed to admit he is devilishly handsome. He has curly brown hair and laughing eyes. He has a wide mouth and high cheekbones. He wears black pants and a white shirt. They look old. He says he doesn't remember how he died. I think he is lying. I also think he knows how I died; yet he says he doesn't. He lies.

I do not know why I am trapped in this house. I have gone through about seven families. Three by myself and four with Daniel. He will not say how he got into the house, nor will he tell me why we are here.

My families are fun to watch. From newly married, to pregnant, to angry teenagers, to tears of leaving. I grow to love them and than having to face them gone. But when they leave, a new family comes in. I am never alone. I like to watch the girls become women. I love when they brush their hair. I wish with all my heart I could. I can walk through the house. From room to room. Daniel sometimes comes with when I walk around. The house is a cottage, so the walking only takes a few minutes. I like to check up on my families to see what they are doing.

Sometimes I will lie down next to the little ones and whisper lullabies in their small fleshy ears. I sometimes fancy hearing them hum it when they are doing their homework or cleaning. I feel I can make an impact that way at least. I don't remember where the lullabies came from; I sing them when I am alone. If I am ever alone.

I sometimes get flashes of my past. A forest that stretched as far as the eye could see. An old man leaning on a walking stick. Sometimes I can't remember if they are just part of the families or they are my scattered memories. I dream, if I do dream, about a young, beautiful girl running around my legs. Her heart-shaped face eager and wise, like she already knows what I am going to take her. She bounces up and down, until we get to the place where I show her. I will always, no matter where the dream is, open a door to a lake. The little girl runs out the door and into the lake, and I chase after her. I can't see her anymore. The color-depressed grey immerses me. I hear her scream for me, yelling. And then I wake up. The dreams came when Daniel did. I share most of my rare dreams with him, though this is one I will not. I don't doubt he knows about it already. He knows so much.

The little girl haunts me like I haunt families. I feel her with me everywhere.

Being a ghost you can do the most startling things. I can walk through walls and yet I can lie on a bed. I like going up to the attic. For when I am up there, the family of the house says they hear mice. It is only me, looking around. Daniel never comes up here. I don't think he is afraid of it, what would scare us now. There are things that have been in the attic from the beginning of the families. Trunks and boxes cover the walls. I have looked in a few. They are filled with baby clothes and such. I cried the first time I saw them and I don't know why. I felt as if I didn't cry the clothes would be insulted.

I cry when I come to the attic and the family thinks its mice.

I think I must have died fairly well. I have no cuts or bruises on my body, or so I am told. But that still doesn't explain why I am in this house. I can't leave; I never will try to though. I think Daniel knows everything, I think we were close in our lives and I died before he did. Though I keep these thoughts to my self, they pop up every now and than.

The little girl scares me.

She is a bundle of beauty so surreal that I feel like just touching her when she is in my dreams. Though she is always excited about something new and I always show her the lake.

I had one dream with her that was different. Just one, one that I will treasure forever. I lied next to her as she played with my hair. I sang the lullaby I have to the other children in the house. She hummed along. I wanted to stay like that forever and never wake up. Though every good dream must end and you must enter back to the world.

Even if your world is dead.