An entity in the house brings along the haunting smell of life and death.
: I started to notice that when I’m alone in the house, objects move in the kitchen or in the laundry room. They used to scare me at first. I remember nearly jumping out of my seat when I heard plates moving in or around the kitchen sink while I was eating on the couch in the laundry room. It started just like that, suddenly and loudly.
Spoons would flip out and land on the floor directly from my pans. I figured it might have just been a result of how I left them, maybe poorly balanced or something? I don’t know. But my theory went out the window when, for the first time ever, I saw an apple roll out of the counter right in front of me while I was having dinner.
Apples aren’t shaped like perfect spheres and they don’t start rolling on their own.
I live alone with my dog and I’m gonna be honest with you and tell you that I’m not the most organized person in the world. When I saw the apple roll away, I pushed my chair back from the kitchen table and ran toward the door, nearly tripping on a shopping bag and my laptop case I had left on the floor by the living room.
My dog, Lindo, chased me outside as I went nearly to the sidewalk across my unkept yard but then turned around growling toward the wide open front door. The growls went from a curious and upset type-of-growl to a more angry one and he started full on barking at someone inside. I remember looking around the street for anybody else walking by, but nobody was around. I walked slowly toward Lindo as he kept barking and nervously stepping in and out of the doorway, almost as if he were trying to summon the courage to go inside.
It was getting dark and I could feel my heart slowing down. I still hadn’t turned on the lights in my house, but I could see something through the doorway that Lindo seemed to be barking at. I tried very hard to remember what it looked like, but the best thing I can think of is the silhouette of a woman from the side, wearing an apron.
You know that typical rubbing-of-the-eyes thing people do in movies when they can’t believe something? I did just that.
Just as I was getting closer to get a closer look, I heard a distant humming of a familiar song but couldn’t remember the words or even the title. I was drawn toward the porch, almost like in a trance or hypnosis. Lindo stopped barking, and started whining quietly. Just then, the silhouette turned toward me. It definitely looked human, perhaps a little slimmer and taller than average, but very dark in color compared the rest of the shadows inside. Then, it did something that made my hands run cold.
The silhouette waved at me in a frozen, jerking motion. And just like that, it blended with the rest of the house and disappeared, never to be seen again.
Lindo started wagging his tail and with his head down, walked inside. I couldn’t believe what I was seeing, but at the moment, I remember feeling my legs cold and tingly, a mix of fear and excitement. But as my eyes adjusted to the dark interior of my house, I couldn’t see anybody, but the familiar scent of roses filled the living room as I walked through it to get to my light switch.
When the lamps turned on, I saw Lindo lifting his nose and sniffing the air. That old golden retriever had been with me ever since I moved into the house and had always perked up his ears when the objects would move, but now he seemed more relaxed. Surprisingly, so did I.
I can speak of it now as just a peculiar experience that I tell my friends and family when they come over, but I can’t tell you that it scares me anymore.
Just today I heard the sound of a broom stick sliding slowly across the backside of the door to the laundry room as it fell to the floor. Instinctively, I walked over the laundry room to pick it up, but I also swept the lint from the floor by the dryer and put the broom back in the supply closet.
I felt a smile creeping up across my face as I walked back to sit down on my couch. I knew what would follow.
It happens when I come home from work, and after I wash the dishes.
Sometimes it happens after I fold my laundry.
It creeps up on me slowly, and with all the memories that come with it. The gardens, the park in the springtime, and the haunting smell of a cemetery. My friends are also aware of it.
It crawls to me like a sinister reminder of beauty and of how fragile we are.
Here it is again: the smell of roses.