The house was a three-story Victorian that had probably been stunning in 1922 when it was built. Now nearly a century later, it was a monument to neglect. The roof sagged in the middle like a broken spine, missing so many shingles that the bare wood underneath showed through in patches. The porch had partially collapsed on one side, the support beam having rotted through completely. Several windows were broken, others so covered in grime they appeared nearly black. The front door hung crooked on rusted hinges.
The white paint that had once covered the wood siding had peeled away in long strips, leaving the gray weathered boards beneath exposed to the elements. Vines had grown up the walls and were actively pulling the siding away from the frame in several places. The yard was a disaster. What had once been a garden was now a jungle of dead bushes, overgrown weeds that stood waist high, and a tree that had died and was slowly falling toward the house, caught against the roof.
As Elellanena stood on the sidewalk with her single suitcase and three boxes of books, a car slowed down. Inside, a middle-aged couple stared at her, then at the house, then back at her. The woman said something to the man and they both laughed before driving away. Elellanena had seen that look before. It was the same look Richard and Diane had given her at the restaurant. Within hours, the whole neighborhood knew. The crazy old woman had actually bought the shame.
People found excuses to walk by to see if the rumors were true. Two houses down, Elellanena could hear a man talking loudly to his wife in their front yard. I give her a week, maybe two if she’s stubborn. Then she’ll realize what a mistake she’s made and the city can finally bulldoze that eyesaw. His wife laughed. Did you see her? She’s got to be at least 60. What’s she thinking buying a condemned house? She probably spent her last dime on it, too.
More money than cents, the man agreed. Well, it’ll be entertaining to watch at least. Elellanena ignored them. She walked up the broken porch steps carefully, testing each board before putting her weight on it. Two of the steps were completely rotten through. She’d need to replace those immediately or risk breaking her leg. The front door’s lock was broken, but the door itself was so swollen with moisture that she had to use her shoulder to force it open. It gave way with a groan that sounded almost alive.
The interior was, if possible, worse than the exterior. The entry hall’s hardwood floor was covered in years of accumulated dirt, leaves that had blown in through broken windows, and what looked like animal droppings. The wallpaper, once probably quite beautiful, hung in strips revealing water- stained plaster beneath. The ceiling showed brown circles where water had leaked through for years. The smell was overwhelming. Mold, decay, dampness, and something else Eleanor couldn’t quite identify, probably dead rodents in the walls.
She walked slowly through the first floor, her footsteps echoing in the empty rooms, the parlor, the dining room, what had been a kitchen, but was now just a shell with broken cabinets and a floor that felt dangerously soft in spots. Everywhere she looked, she saw destruction. Pipes that had burst and never been repaired, electrical wiring that hung exposed from holes in the walls, floors that sagged, ceilings that were definitely going to collapse if she didn’t do something about them.
The staircase to the second floor looked questionable at best. Several steps were cracked and the banister was missing entirely on one side. Elellanena climbed carefully, testing each step. On the second floor, she found four bedrooms and a bathroom that was so disgusting she couldn’t even bring herself to enter it. Every bedroom had the same story. Water damage, peeling paint, floors covered in debris, windows that let in almost as much air as if they were simply open. The third floor was an attic that had partially collapsed.
the roof damage having let in years of rain and snow. As Elellanena stood in what had once been the master bedroom, looking at the devastation around her, she heard laughter from outside. She went to the grimy window and saw a group of teenagers had gathered on the sidewalk. They were pointing at the house and laughing, taking photos with their phones. One of them yelled loud enough for Elellanena to hear, “Hey, lady, the haunted house tour is next month.
You’re early.” His friends erupted in laughter. Elellanena watched them for a moment, then turned away from the window. Let them laugh. Let everyone laugh. She knew something they didn’t. That evening, as the sun set and Elellanena sat on the one patch of porch that seemed solid enough to support her weight, her phone rang. “Richard?” she considered not answering, but curiosity won out. “Aunt Ellena?” His voice dripped with false concern. “I heard about your purchase. I wanted to call and make sure you’re okay.
