I never expected it to be in that bad of disrepair. I went today, and trekked for five hours through the forest surrounding it afterwards, feeling sick at what I'd seen. Right now I'm in the room that I used to sleep in-- this little device is convenient enough with some sort of satellite offering the Internet service I use to post this blog on.
It's fairly late, but that's because I've been boarding up broken and shattered windows, and cleaning the dust and dirt and other....undesirable filth from this room and a few others. Thankfully there were still plenty of sheets (I had to wash them, they were stale smelling..) for the bed, and it's considerably more clean now.
I never realized how small I was as a child and late teen-- my feet hang off of this bed. I'll probably have to stay in a guest room. I don't know why they were always fully furnished, because we certainly never had visitors. Though whenever I asked, he would always smile and so teasingly he'd say 'For the ghosts', and it terrified me terribly sometimes. I don't think he did it on purpose though. He didn't think I'd take it seriously.
I know the largest bed in the house is his-- on stormy nights, and sometimes even half awake during my early hibernations, I'd seek it out for comfort. I stopped around the time I became nine, bit it's too nice of a thought to bring up when I think I'm supposed to hate him so much.
I won't sleep in that one, though. I don't want to set foot in there.
Usually, my houses are well kept up with by the fairies or sprites in the surrounding area that want a roof over their heads-- sometimes they don't have anything better to do than to stay and mooch off of others, though they can sense when the owners of such residences are in town, and vacate it promptly. I've even once found a warm cup of coffee and a recent newspaper in one of my apartments coming in one morning.
But they have not touched this place, even though I know there are so many of them in the woods. I wonder...
Can they still sense his presence here?
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