The Friendly House Spirit

The spirit woke slowly, coming out of a deep slumber that lasted longer and longer each time it fell asleep. It had been worsening over the last year, this incessant need to rest. There was nothing to recover from though considering the spirit was bored beyond measure and did nothing each day. Its only desire was to host a family again. It craved life. Craved a family to watch over.

It had been twenty long years since the spirit cared for anyone. Twenty years since the spirit was able to fulfill its purpose as the home’s spirit guardian. Each day passed like the last… uneventful. Without anyone living in its home, there was nothing for the spirit to do except waste away in bored oblivion.

The spirit spent most of its days looking over each room in the 1860’s Victorian style home to ensure no evil forces had infiltrated its walls. That was its only purpose now that no humans lived there; to make sure no evil spirits took up residence.

When that task was complete, the spirit would reminisce over its long existence, even back to the very moment it was born.

It was 1863 when the last nail was pounded into the baseboard by the back kitchen door. The moment that hammer pulled away from the nail’s head was the moment that the spirit came into being. It was the home’s spirit guardian, its protector against evil supernatural forces.

The spirit was also the soul of the house, fostering each family that graced its walls with love and safety. It adapted to each family, becoming what they needed. If a child needed an idea, it nurtured a space of creativity. If a parent needed to make an important decision, it established a sense of clear calm. Or if anyone needed cheering up, it garnered an atmosphere of joy. No matter the person, the spirit knew what they needed.

It was an incredible purpose, the spirit thought. Such a privilege to have witnessed so much of humanity over the last one-hundred and sixty years. Every Christmas, every joyous smile during the holidays, the spirit saw them. It cheered silently for each baby that struggled to take its first steps. It laughed with everyone when Uncle Joe tripped over the dog and smashed himself in the face with the pumpkin pie. It laughed at the sitcom the Jones’s watched every weeknight. It listened to each heartfelt endearment or murmur of love. It watched people fall in love and unfortunately, fall out of love. It cried with each death and rejoiced at each new life.

Most importantly, the spirit witnessed all that life was meant to be. An endless cycle of endings and beginnings, the spirit knew it was the life that happened in between that really mattered. It was the memorable moments of a child graduating high school or the everyday moments of comfort while watching a sitcom beside a beloved one that were the most cherished.

Those were the things that the spirit missed. The day-to-day life and energy that once filled its home. It made protecting against evil spirits so much easier. These past few years, it had become so much more difficult without the powerful emotions of the humans to fuel the spirit in its fight to preserve the sanctity of this home.

The spirit was tired of it all as well. It had nothing left to protect the house for. No family was coming to live here. It was empty. The spirit was empty. A void of nothing where emotions should have run rampant. Instead, it was just a shell of the once vibrant soul it used to be, just like the house. No longer was the Victorian home in mint condition. The years showed in the bones of the house, especially without anyone to keep up with repairs.

Sunlight shone across the bleached wooden floor of the dining room as the spirit stared out the picture window. Twenty years it had been alone in this house. Alone with only its memories of the families it once protected and cared for. It had been so long, and the spirit was tired of being alone. It was just tired. So tired that it feared it might not wake up one day. It didn’t think it could die like the humans, but it considered that perhaps it could. That it would go to sleep like so many of the humans had before and wouldn’t open its eyes on another lively day. Would the house finally crumble if the soul of it disappeared? Would anyone notice if the spirit never returned?

It didn’t know. All it knew was that it couldn’t continue like this much longer.

A neon green car pulled into the cracked driveway with overgrown weeds bursting through. The spirit stood straighter. A female exited from the driver’s seat her chestnut hair a wild mass of curls. She wore denim overalls over a white shirt and purple slip-on shoes.

A moving truck pulled up to the crumbling curb and parked in front of the faded maroon house.

“Let’s try to get everything in before dark,” the female called to the two men that hopped out of the moving truck. The passenger door swung open, and a tall man unfolded himself from the low vehicle.

“Are you sure this is the place?” he asked with obvious disdain for the house. The spirit took offense, not liking this man.

“Yeah. It’s my grandparents’ house. I came here a few times as a kid. No one has been back since they died though.”

The spirit perked up, inspecting the female closer. She did look familiar now that it properly looked. Perhaps it was young Hannah, the granddaughter of the last tenants, the Montgomery family.

She helped a young girl out of the back seat. The little girl was a mirror image of her mother with bushy curls and an easy smile. As they walked up the broken pathway with weeds that had overrun the immaculate garden years ago, the little girl looked on nervously.

“This is our new house, Mommy?” she wondered.

“It is. This is where my grandparents used to live and now it will be our home.” The spirit’s void of a soul burst with joy. A new family was moving in. After twenty lonely years, it would finally have another family to protect and admire.

Overwhelming emotion filled it, making the spirit feel alive again and with that came power. The power to care for the house again. It tidied up as best it could in the few moments it took for the new family to walk up the rickety porch stairs. It got rid of all the dust and cleared out all the dead vermin.

They unlocked the front door and took a step inside. Even more power surged through the spirit as the residents officially entered the home.

“Welcome home, sweetie,” Hannah said to her daughter with a proud smile. The spirit matched her smile feeling elated that it would host another family.

It would be a full month until the new family got settled and with each passing day, the spirit worked tirelessly to aid in their transition and to keep them safe. They planned many renovations for the years to come, and the spirit could not wait to see what would happen.

They were getting ready to sit down for supper one evening, their official one-month anniversary, when the spirit decided to give them a gift. It was tradition in this house and the spirit never broke tradition.

“What’s this?” the husband questioned as he walked into the kitchen and saw the box sitting on the counter. He grabbed a bowl of salad to bring to the dining table.

Hannah turned from the stove. “I’m not sure. I didn’t put it there.”

He looked for a shipping label but there wasn’t one. “It’s just a box wrapped in brown paper. There is no note or address.”

Hannah set down the wooden spoon covered in pasta sauce and walked over to inspect the mysterious box for herself. “That’s odd,” she commented before she ripped open the paper then the box. Inside lay a piece of paper. She grabbed it and read aloud, “Welcome to your new home. There has been so much life lived within these walls and I am excited to experience that life with your family now. Enjoy and know that you are safe with me. Sincerely, your new home.” She chuckled. “What an odd housewarming note,” she said before pulling out the book at the bottom of the box.

The leather tome was heavy and cracked with age. Carefully, Hannah set it on the counter. Embossed on the front cover in gold lettering was the address of the house. She opened the front cover which showed a black and white photo of the house from when it was first built.

“Wow,” Hannah whispered. “The house looks brand new here.”

The man flipped to the next page. Both pages were covered in old photos of the first family to ever live in this house, the Smiths. The next two pages showed the subsequent family and so on until it reached the Montgomery’s pages. There were so many photos, and they were all in color.

The spirit looked on with pride. It had created the book as was every house spirit’s responsibility. It kept a record of all the families it cared for in this home, but it was also filled with memories. Something the spirit cherished.

“The lawyer must have dropped this off or something,” Hannah commented idly, still enraptured by the memories.

“It was the house spirit, Mommy,” young Victoria corrected. Her parents chuckled nervously in that way adults do when children speak of ghosts. If only they remembered the supernatural from their own childhoods, the spirit would be remembered by all those it helped.

“Ghosts aren’t real, sweetie,” Hannah said.

“It’s not a ghost. It’s a house spirit. They’re different, and it came with the house. It protects us.”

“That’s nice, sweetie,” her father said dismissively. “Set the table, please.” The young girl rolled her eyes but did as she was told.

Hannah flipped to the last page. It had one photo of her family with the title, The Greene Family.

“Such a thoughtful gift,” Hannah commented.

They left the book and forgot it for the rest of the evening. The spirit hid it away again in a special spot to keep it preserved. It wouldn’t take the book out again until it added more pictures or until a new family came to live.

Contented once more and its purpose fulfilled, the spirit lapsed into sleep without any fear of not being able to wake.