The House: Part 2

II

“As you can see, the house was built many years ago. First erected in 1913, the house still stands sturdy. Many commodities that we have present day homes were not initially built with this one, obviously.” The real estate agent from Maple Street snickered. “The bathroom does not service a commode but does have an outhouse that still stands in the back. We can check on that later, if you’d like. Here we stand in the foyer with the ceiling capped at 18 feet. To our right is the front parlor. This room mainly served as an “introduction room” for new guests of the residents. As you can see, the grand piano still stands from the time the first residents moved in.”
“Are these gaslights?” asked Julie intriguingly, almost to herself.
“That’s right. In 1913, people did not have electricity, so gaslights light the walk. All of the gaslights are still here, although I don’t recommend using them” the agent advised.
“Beautiful” muttered Jack.
“Yes, that is a wonderful fireplace that was the only source of heating. What you are looking at there, Jack, is an adjustable canopy not seen in many fireplaces we have today. The residents could adjust this accordingly to help the coal burn more efficiently” said the agent.
“You seem to know a lot about Victorian homes. Especially this one” Jack pointed out.
“Well, unfortunately to us at Maple Street, can’t seem to sell this one. Many homeowners don’t get very excited with old homes like this one. I guess our race has evolved to the point electricity is a necessity rather than a privilege.”
Evolved? Jack thought to himself.
“If you would like, we can move onto the kitchen” the agent nudged.
“Okay” Julie and his husband said simultaneously.
They walked out of the front parlor and Jack could see in his minds eye all of the parties and conversation that went on in this room. The women wearing their long battered dresses that have seen too many days of cooking and cleaning. The men wearing their Sunday best suit, black over coat and a pipe protruding out of their mouth. No doubt a glass of brandy in one hand, Jack thought.

The kitchen was exceptional. The wooden floors seemed to creek and crack at the heaviness to each body that hasn’t seen any other weight besides thin air in years. The island, or what we would call an island in a kitchen, was actually a four foot wooden table. The legs had very intricate carvings that must have taken some time to carve, Julie thought. True craftsmanship. What had surprised the couple the most was that the pots were still on the coal-burning stove, two that had seen too many flames to be called back into action if the case may be.
“As you can see, the cooking was also completed by coal-burning stoves. Cooking was a family occurrence here. If not near the fire, the kitchen was the next best place to be for warmth. Here, next to the stove, is a cabinet that hasn’t yet escaped modern day homes. There are twenty-three shelves from top to bottom. Many of our modern day cooking utensils were made in this era; whisks and peelers” the agent explained. “The residents placed their utensils in here, oh! Well, look-e-here. There is still a whisk here. The previous residents must have forgotten this one” a comment seemed to be made to the agent herself due to the volume of her voice.
“I do have one question” Jack had pardoned. “Why is it that you refer to the previous owners of the home as “residents” rather than previous owners?”
“Oh, um” the agent didn’t have time to finish her stuttering.

A loud crack came from the floor above. All three had buckled down at the knees with armed raised over their heads as if the roof above was caving in on them. The sound was so loud but at the same time so faint. A whisper in the wind like the sound of a sonic boom.
“What the” Jack seemed to have spit out of his mouth.
The sound was like a tree cracking and falling to its fate to the ground below. Or was it the sound of an ancient pistol crack. All three of them stand in horror.


***More to come!***