The Brown Meridian

Cloy, listen to me. My throat feels parched from the history you and I shared. I can't call this our home anymore; you can’t either. But believe this: my departure was an act of abnegation; I didn’t abandon you. I have escaped, and now the burden of this entity falls on you.

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You must understand the nature of... this leak. A leak that does not drip water, but time. This house isn’t what it seems, Cloy; time: its fluid pressurized by these memories you and I have. When your resolve burns away the flesh from the bones, the past will begin to manifest as efflorescence.

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This is no joke; it will bloom like salt-fretting on the cellar bricks or, worse, white plumes on mummy’s grey drapes with the silver eyelets. Do not mistake this for imagination; I know your mind is simple. It is access to our father's contumely and our mother's silence. If you do not heed these rules with punctilious attention, the house will realize you are permeable. It will visit you; it will consume you until your eyeballs fall out from the passage to your soul.

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Module 1: The Caulking

Step 1: The Integrity Test

I know you are going to think it’s strange, but I left you a candle. It is white and chunky, but it is wrapped with mommy’s hair. You will light this and you will use it to check for drafts around the window frame. But you must listen first; it sounds like a susurration of mommy’s whispering when daddy was not home. The old sealant is friable, so I wouldn’t be surprised if now you can hear the sound of the draft.

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There will be a scent, a mixture of petrichor and whiskey. It will come through the cracks when the seal is broken. Cloy! Do not breathe it in for too long. I know what you’re thinking; it smells like it has a hold on you. But don’t do it; you will begin to sink and the dark hand will reach for your throat like it did me. To protect yourself before the draft comes in, you have to scrape away the old crust. Scrape until the crust is gone. Scrape until the wood is bare. Scrape until you bleed. Cloy… it is the only piacular sacrifice to hold the seal. That dark hand is a velleity of daddy’s hand when he couldn’t resist clutching that thing that stood on the table, every night.

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Module 2: The Hallway

Step 2: Obscuration. Go into the hallway.

Place my black towel, the one that looks like the night dragon's blood of the ocean, over the mirror. You know the one I mean; don’t be silly, Cloy, you’re stepping on it. It is the one I used to cover the stain on the living room floor.

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But if you look at your looking, you are lost. If the breath you hold becomes a breathless weight, you do not yield. The fluid streaming down your face is the color of brown. In fact, it might look like slits on your face; a brown meridian. If it fails and you’re caught by your own image: hold your breath like you’ve just had a hiccup. Don’t listen to the hiccups; daddy would have. Just hold your breath. That mirror is nothing but a lying fog of opprobrium. We only bought it because it looked like the one in The Conjuring. But it remembers every expression you and I and mummy ever made.

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Module 3: The Consumption

Step 3: Kitchen Maintenance

Quit your sighing and get to the kitchen.

• Do not use the pot with the blue and orange swirls.
• Do not use the plate mommy bought on a whim.
• Do not use the black non-stick, for it remembers when she dared to speak.

I left you sustenance in the fridge. But if the fridge turns into a devouring bear, just remove the vacation magnets. I know it’s big and black and tall, but it won't pick you up and throw you. Put them in the empty box by the fridge. Don't throw them in the bin, you idiot; someone else could use them when we get around to selling them. You know how expensive things are these days.

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Module 4: The Attic

Step 4: The Inheritance. Go to the attic.

The air will have a certain inanition. It will cling around your neck and feel like it is calling you to death. The inheritance ledger is inside what used to be a music box; the one where you ripped the inside out when mommy choked you the day you showed weakness.

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Yes, that stain is piss. Kneel down. Rub the saliva. Quiet the hinges. Open the box. Become the newborn child who needs a bib. If you find a photograph of yourself, it will be faced down with your name and date on the back; do not turn this over. He will see you and pull you into it, into that scent of petrichor and whisky. And if you are questioning the stain: daddy pissed in mommy’s face when he was out of his mind. That stain belongs to you; it was when mommy confided in you when you were too young.

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Appendix A: Observations of Relapse

Day 2: The windows held. I smelled the petrichor, but it was faint. The susurration through the ceiling cracks sounded like Daddy’s keys—I kept it out. I kept the house out. I kept the memory out.

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Day 7: Cloy, I am writing this when my breath feels clogged with anxiety. I found a plume of efflorescence on the underside of the dining table today. I had to exscind a piece of the wood to stop my mind from seeing the spread. The house is hungry for your mind. It seeks a soft mind. It will swallow your mind. If you feel the floorboards getting soft, don’t worry. It is only going to feel that way for a few seconds.

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Final Warning

If you feel the urge to call my name, Cloy, it is already too late. You know that siblings have a cord that ties them together, right? They know everything that is happening to each other, even when they are far away. I am far away and your end of the cord is snapping, Cloy. Why?

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Why did you use the pot and the plate with those blue and orange swirls? Why didn’t you place the vacation magnets in the box like I told you to? Cloy! My heart is splitting. Wake up! PLEASE!!! Now you will astral travel and never return to your body. Your body is now a hollow mess. A mess that I will never return to clean, for I have too much to lose. Lose your name, Cloy; the house has it now.

Author’s Note: Writing this was a visceral experience. My heart was racing and the sweat was real. My uncle was an alcoholic. This is a personal weakness of mine, but I am with someone now who won’t allow me to go overboard. This was an obvious route for me to take for this challenge because it is so close to my own experience. If this story flowed with a strange ease in your eyes, that would be the reason. Thank you so much for reading if you got this far. If I haven’t read your work yet, I am sorry; I will try to get around to it. My hands are tied because there are many challenges running at the moment. ♥️🤗🙏🏽🖤