Deja Vu Part One

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Déjà vu

By

Roman Scott

PART 1

Was this a dream? It felt real. Rebecca was twelve years old. This sometimes still happened. An honest to god moment where she couldn’t tell the difference. In the dream, Becca stood in front of a large old house. Her hair was long and brown, her eyes were brown, she had freckles which were brown. She hated it. She constantly thought to dye her hair blond. Her mother (Kelly) would never go for it. There was a word for this type of house. (Victorian) It was tall. Two stories, plus an attic. The green paint was chipping off. She imagined that at one time the green was vibrant. It was entirely made of wood. The grass in the yard was overgrown and out of control. She could hear insects, somehow knowing it was teeming with life. The front steps had been recently remade. But not painted. The new wood stood out like a sore thumb. Why am I dreaming about a creepy old house? The concrete leading up to the house was broken. Weeds poked up through the cracks. She wanted to go inside. Suddenly she was in the foyer. She looked down, everything was painted an off white. The Baseboards, the walls, and the baseboards on the ceiling. (Crown Molding) The floor was real hardwood. But it was in poor shape. But this door was nice. It had a stained-glass window. It was very colorful but dirty. The image it was depicting was strange. There was a Man dancing or standing on one foot, he was wearing a Jesters outfit. He was playing the flute, behind him were hundreds of faces. The people were short. She thought they were children. They gazed at him with a look of astonishment, happiness. Her father (James) had told her this story. (The Pied Piper of Hamlin) She remembered that rats somehow played a part. That the children went missing over some type of debt. Derek, Becca’s older brother loved this story. She grabbed the doorknob, it creaked as it opened. There were stairs in front of her to the right. Directly ahead was a narrow hallway. To her left, it looked like a dining room. To her right. A study. The house employed dark hardwood throughout. The doors to both the dining room and study were made of glass. The doors were wide open. Each held six panes of glass. The floor creaked as she stepped forward. This was strange, in this area. The house did not seem old at all. The wood was rich and the space was clean and welcoming. The floor was shining. Her foot clacked against the floor. Becca liked the sound of the noise. So, she jumped up and down several times. Clack, clack, clack. Until she was satiated. Becca walked to her left into the dining room. There was a closed door. She thought it was the kitchen. It wasn’t. It was- a bedroom? WTF? She thought. She only thought the initials she never said the words. Her father didn’t like her cursing. Deep down she thought her mother thought it was funny. A bedroom, next to a kitchen? Her Dad sometimes fixed houses, so that would need to be fixed. It was weird and stupid. The bedroom? The guest room had a second door. This had to be the kitchen. It was. It was in terrible shape, lime green in color. The floor tile was discolored and filthy. The countertop was caked with dust. The water spout to the sink was rusty. The cabinet doors below the sink were broken off. She didn’t want to touch anything. She unconsciously went on tiptoe to the next door. A downstairs restroom. Sink and toilet. Next to the kitchen. Stupid she thought. Did you really want to be smelling shit while you were eating? Well I mean, you could just close the door to the random guestroom and you wouldn’t have to smell it. So weird. The study was nice and clean, uneventful. There was another large bedroom in the back. It was painted a pale blue. Which vaguely reminded her of babies. The stairs went up and made a quarter turn to the left. Becca felt herself climbing the stairs. When she got to the top of the stairs. There was a long narrow hallway that split in both directions. There seemed to be more rooms than possible. Like the house was somehow larger on the inside. It was a dream, though right? She went left. Cause she was lefthanded. She went to the first room on the left. It was the master bedroom. The paint was grey. Becca went to the window and looked down into the yard. The grass was cut. The fence was new, there was a name for that fence (Picket) it was painted white. Inviting. There wasn’t a fence before, the grass had been growing like crazy. The wood floor in the bedroom was also in poor shape. There was a light on in there. There was nothing in the closet. There was a naked bulb there. She could see a black door at the far end of the closet. A door? In a closet? Weird. It occurred to her that she was thinking of this house as real. She reminded herself it was just a dream house. She woke in bed. It was still dark outside. She sighed. She was going to be tired all day if she couldn’t get back to sleep.

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