Desire
Kim Antieau
Published by Green Snake Publishing at Smashwords
Copyright (c) 2012 by Kim Antieau
Originally appeared in Bending the Landscape: Fantasy 1997
Cover image copyright (c) by ladycaroler | morguefile.com
All rights reserved. Used by permission.
Discover other titles by this author on Smashwords.com.
Smashwords Edition, License Notes:
This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each person. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to Smashwords.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.
Desire
Kim Antieau
Oct 10, 1994
Should I begin this with Dear Diary? I haven’t kept a journal since I was a girl of twelve. It feels silly, yet essential now. I am here, on the Oregon coast, living in the old lighthouse keeper’s house. My first day. Millie, the caretaker, has left for her vacation after she assured me the house isn’t haunted, despite the rumors.
“I’ve lived here four years and never heard a thing!” she said, giggling. Strange to see a grown woman giggle. She waved, got into her Volkswagen and drove away, leaving me with a spectacular view of the cove, the Pacific, and the deep dark black-green forest that surrounds three sides of the keeper’s house. From here I can’t see the lighthouse that the Coast Guard still uses.
Inside the house, all is quiet and empty. Like me? Some metaphor for my life. Ah, I can’t start feeling sorry for myself yet. I only just got here. And it was my idea. I have dreamed of this house for so long; it was time I came.
They all think I’m doing research on lighthouses and the women living in them in the nineteenth century.
But I am here to meet the ghosts. They have been calling to me all my life.
Oct 12, 1994
I slept through the entire night, can’t remember dreaming. I had to put the cat in the other part of the house—this house is really two residences. The lighthouse keeper and his family shared the structure with his assistant and his family. The two huge twin apartments are separated by a door. The southern apartment is empty; the northern is empty except for the few rooms Millie uses: bathroom, kitchen, library, bedroom. The cat is not happy, but I’m allergic to cats. I waved to her through the beveled glass in the separating door. She promptly ran outside and tried to come in the back door. It’s not going to be a pleasant three weeks for her.
Sorry, kitty.
It’s mid-afternoon now, and I’m sitting outside on the porch. The cat sleeps at my feet. Apparently I am forgiven. The house is so quiet. I came here for a rest, for silence, to be away from all the horrors of the world, yet inside the house I am disturbed by the quiet. I played the radio yesterday and all morning.
The ghosts haven’t shown themselves, if they exist at all.
It has been years since I heard one of them speak; maybe I imagined them. Maybe I was “touched” only when I was a child, and now it’s gone.
Mercy, I’m tired.
I haven’t heard my own voice in 24 hours. Actually, I’m not certain I’ve ever really heard my own voice.
Oct 13, 1994
I dreamed I was stuck in an elevator. I couldn’t get out, so I graded student papers. I was completely resigned to the fact that I was stuck in that stupid elevator.
For breakfast I cooked pancakes, potatoes, eggs, and sausage. Yes, me, the vegetarian. I let the cat in and fed her the sausage. She loved it.
Outside, wind strokes the house. The ocean laps on the beach below. I cannot see the parking lot or the path that leads up to the house; for that I am grateful. So far I’ve only seen a few tourists. They’ve all heeded the “no admittance” sign, however, and haven’t tried to get into the house. The president of the Historical Society—they own the house—called to see how I was doing. I hated hearing my voice. I like the silence. The house creaks all around me. As yet, I have not walked up to the lighthouse.
Oct 14, 1994
I heard fireworks. As if it were the Fourth of July. They woke me. I went out, stood on the porch, and saw nothing. I heard them exploding all about me. And the lawn was silvered as if with moon light, yet it was new moon.