~~Weathered~~ (FYM2021)

Starting over is never easy. Especially somewhere new..But sometimes you feel the winds of change blowing you in a different direction. Your mind races ,your feet itch... and you know you just have to follow whatever direction you are being pulled .
So I did.
I got a new job...in a town I'd never visited before and I rented a room in a tiny farming community about 20 minutes away. To escape the rat race was bliss. For the first time in a long time...I felt like I could breathe. Like there wasn't a constant weight of stress and responsibility weighing me down. Life was simple. It was a new adventure.
That first summer,my life was quite routine. I put all my effort into my new job, even working late nights to get ahead. It wasn't that I felt I needed to prove myself. It was just a way to pass time in the evening away from the 4 walls of my rented room. A way to be productive.
I would say I saw him half a dozen times over the summer. Always on my drive home. Always as the sun was setting on the horizon.
It was a farmhouse like any other in the area. Nothing special about it really stood out at first. The rusted mailbox said "J. Moss". He sat on the porch by the front door...plaid shirt collar..grey sweater. Barely a whisp of white hair above each ear. Skin that appeared tan and freckled . and laugh line wrinkles on each cheek almost as big as his smile. He waves with the enthusiasm of saying goodbye to a long lost friend every time I notice him.
I hadn't taken the time to get to know anyone, and this man's gesture made me feel welcome despite thinking that he probably just waved at everyone who drove by.
Middle of September, it was a chilly fall morning,with the leaves half transformed to golden hues of yellow , orange and deep red. Dark ominous clouds hung over and the wind was blowing in a gale the likes I hadn't seen yet.
I was running late that morning. Already feeling the nip in the air making me feel sluggish. So I was hurrying to get to work but trying to keep under the speed limit. A quick glance to the right as I drove passed Moss farmhouse and I notice the front door wide open. Struck me odd, especially in this weather as the rain began to hit my windshield.
I shrugged the thought off quickly and settled my mind back to everything I needed to accomplish by days end, and this gloomy weather was not helping.
The storm lasted most of the day, and I had a headache to show for it. I decided not to stay late and simply get home and rest and start fresh in the morning.
I was in no hurry to drive home. Already felt as if I'd been rushing all day. So when I came back upon Moss farm and noticed the front door still open...I pulled over to take a look.
This obviously didn't seem right. But I really wasn't sure what to do. Maybe he left and didn't realize the door didn't latch? Maybe he is outside and left it open on purpose?
I decided to look around the backyard first.
The yard is overgrown with weeds and dead wildflowers. Some poking through the stone path that led to the back of the house. I called out.." Hello? Anyone here?"
No answer.
The view from the backyard of the house was nothing short of a postcard. A back drop of green field suddenly giving way to rocky shoreline and an endless sea of blue. Like looking out over the edge of the world. The sound of the waves only interrupted by the intrusion of progress from the front of the house. It wasn't difficult to feel the allure of serenity here.
But seeing no sign of anyone, I turned back to the house.
There were three wooden steps up to the porch. The floorboards creaked and give a bit under foot. Only up close do I see how badly the paint is flaking off the house. Especially the door. But the layers underneath what must be multiple coats are the same color, giving it the illusion of solidity.
A broken wooden kitchen chair sits by the door. Barely a speck of white paint left on the spindles where the sun ,wind and rain couldn't quite reach.
I call out again...and knock on the door to announce my presence.
Nothing.
I took a step inside and a quick glance of the surroundings. A large brown plaid sofa dominated the open space with a clearly hand knitted afghan in varying shades of blue draped over the back. The air was thick with particles of filth and cobwebs hung in various corners. But I quickly discarded the lack of housekeeping thoughts and continued my search. I was terribly afraid I may find my friendly neighbor in a state of extreme distress or worse.
Wooden carvings of fish and birds exquisitely detailed sat on a yellowed lace doily in the center of a hand made square coffee table.
An old fiddle sat on the mantle..The dust so thick it doubled the size of the strings. There was no fire going in the fireplace. The air inside the house was just as cold and damp as outside.
Books with faded fabric bindings and gold and silver titles lined rough lumber shelves.
Chipped dishes sat at two place settings on a tiny table with only two chairs, matching the one outside but with more paint hiding the aged wood.
Threadbare floral curtains with scalloped edges framed each window. Scratched bottles with peeling labels lined the kitchen counter.
There were no pictures on the walls save for one...A brass frame with dusted glass and a dim color portrait.
A woman who appeared to be middle-aged in what must have been her Sunday best emerald green dress. Her dark curly hair barely reaching her shoulders but hiding part of her pearl necklace .She was smiling at whomever took the photograph.
I kept calling out. The uneasiness growing.
A steep,narrow staircase led to the second floor. Each step creaked louder than the one before it and the railing jiggled loosely in my hand.
The hallway was short with two doors on either side. I peered into the first two very cautiously. Both were empty, void of any furniture or pictures. Simply the same striped blue wallpaper now stained and peeling. A stark contrast to downstairs.
The third room was a bathroom. No window . It was sparsely decorated with a blue floral wallpaper. A white cast iron claw foot tub took up the majority of space. I couldn't help but notice that there were no towels hanging on the bar. No hairbrush. No toothbrush. No fancy soap beside the sink. The second floor was definitely making me feel uneasy.
The 4th door was the master bedroom. I knocked and called out before opening the door fully. There was no one inside. A very ornate wrought iron head board attached to a small bed. The mattress was bare save for an afghan perfectly matching the one downstairs folded neatly at it's end.
I was not only perplexed at the sight of this...but shaken. A shiver ran down my spine and the feeling of being an intruder was overwhelming now.
I practically flew down the stairs and back out the door....positive my feet missed a few steps along the way.
I sat in my car staring at the open door. Maybe this just wasn't a primary residence. Maybe he just visited. I toyed with scenarios in my head.

The nearest house was just on the other side of Moss farm's field. I couldn't shake the feeling that something was wrong so quickly drove down to his closest neighbor.
I felt lucky someone was outside. A man in dirty coveralls greeted me as I walked up the driveway, a look of curiosity on his face. Likely hoping I wasn't selling door to door.
I introduced myself immediately and explained that I was stopping by out of concern for Mr. Moss having noticed his front door open and finding nobody around.
" ..Oh so you've seen him too.? I saw him once after it happened. Never told a soul. Old Jack's been gone near 10 years. Was always a friendly guy...liked to tinker with things. Wife died long before him and kids moved off to the city and never come round. You know how it is. Never known that door to be open though. I guess he wanted to invite company in after so many years sitting alone. "

It was only then that I realized every time I saw him it was exactly the same. The same plaid shirt collar over the same grey sweater. The same blue work pants over his crossed legs . The way his tufts of white hair moved in the breeze when he waved and the way the trail of smoke whisped up out of his pipe when he smiled. It was like a movie scene being replayed over and over again.

~~~~
I'm in the garden beside the house watching my young son Jack wave goodbye to his father from the front porch as he leaves for work. The smile on his face as big as the sun is bright.
The same tall maple tree casts a shadow over his car as it pulls away ,just as it did mine that first day. And I realize in that moment that it all brought me to here. ..right now.
The house has been a labour of love. Carefully and selectively restored as some pieces are brought back to life and others replaced entirely. I think Jack Moss would approve.

THE END

Good story S&F

a reply to: AccessDenied

Great story! Loved this!

a reply to: AccessDenied

I never read these stories but decided to pop in. And, I'm glad I did! Great story!

a reply to: Iamonlyhuman
Thank you. You should definitely check out the other stories. ATS has some great writers.

a reply to: AccessDenied

What a beautiful and melancholic story! Your descriptions of the house and surroundings truly placed me alongside you during the exploration. The picture remains vivid in my mind and the ending leaves me with food for thought.

originally posted by: Encia22
a reply to: AccessDenied

What a beautiful and melancholic story! Your descriptions of the house and surroundings truly placed me alongside you during the exploration. The picture remains vivid in my mind and the ending leaves me with food for thought.

Thank you. Glad you enjoyed reading.☺

a reply to: AccessDenied

SO wonderful! You know when you're in the grip of a great read when you want to skip forward, but don't because you don't want to miss out on any of the nuances of detail. What an accomplished storyteller you are!!! I'm now on my second read of your tale, and savoring it just as much as the first time. I love a story with a hook at the end, but even without that, the richness of detail and the way you mix the tenseness with the gentle flow is so perfect.

This is one of those cases where a film could never capture the fullness of the written word. Very well done! I don't know when I've been so entertained by a short story.

originally posted by: argentus
a reply to: AccessDenied

SO wonderful! You know when you're in the grip of a great read when you want to skip forward, but don't because you don't want to miss out on any of the nuances of detail. What an accomplished storyteller you are!!! I'm now on my second read of your tale, and savoring it just as much as the first time. I love a story with a hook at the end, but even without that, the richness of detail and the way you mix the tenseness with the gentle flow is so perfect.

This is one of those cases where a film could never capture the fullness of the written word. Very well done! I don't know when I've been so entertained by a short story.

Wow...I'm just speechless. Most of my stories involve something mysterious or paranormal. That is my niche. My inspiration most definitely comes from real life for my setting and occasionally my characters. Where I live there are dozens of old houses that fit this exact description just waiting to be loved again.
Thank you so much for your more than kind review. So glad you enjoyed reading it as much as I did writing it.