Hill House was not sane, but then again, they weren't either. Perhaps they could cut the belly of the beast open before it consumed them all. Or, the Hill House characters work together to fix their family and help each other before it's too late.
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No live organism can continue for long to exist sanely under conditions of absolute reality; even larks and katydids are supposed, by some, to dream. Hill House, not sane, stood by itself against its hills, holding darkness within; it had stood so for eighty years and might stand for eighty more. Within, walls continued upright, bricks met neatly, floors were firm, and doors were sensibly shut; silence lay steadily against the wood and stone of Hill House, and whatever walked there, walked alone.
Now within a car, not even a minute from the dark iron gates that guarded its entrance, spears piercing the sky and catching stray clouds on its ends, Eleanor Crain sat and shivered. Her breath formed thick clouds before her, growing into her very own miniature cumulonimbus that faded into vapor against the windshield. She was not entirely sane, she supposed, so she could perhaps endure this and other realities as they came. Her fingers clasped around the keys she held in her hand, their tiny teeth biting into it, leaving the impression of the inside of the lock upon her palm. She had known, of course, that she would come back here. It was as inevitable as rain, or hail upon their tiny island of an estate, shattering their hopes and dreams like glass stained windows until they had no choice but to return.
She had returned.
The door clicked and suddenly she was walking down the unfamiliar path of gravel. How strange, she thought, that this should be unfamiliar to her, when all the house was like the reflection of her face, and she could see herself in every corner of its twisted and convoluted hallways. But, certainly her mother had always told them not to go too far from the porch; it was no wonder she could not recognize this.
As the first line of trees gave way to a gray sky that seemed to be pulled down by the magnitude of the house’s gravity, Nell looked upon Hill House and found that, against every opinion that her doctor had spinned, trying to convince her otherwise, it was very much not just a carcass in the woods. No. The light flickered and the door creaked open, a large mouth yawning, waking from its slumber. Not a carcass, she repeated, it was home.
I am home, she thought, and stopped in wonder at the thought. I am home, I am home, she thought; now to climb. She walked forward, almost as though in a trance, and her feet took her higher and higher, up the hill and up the stairs, and up and up until she felt herself almost float in the air and marvel at how close the stars were. So close, she thought, that she could drink from that star spangled sky and dress herself with the clouds. Was this it? Her cup of stars? The real one, beyond all reason, beyond all doubt. Had she insisted enough upon it that now no one could take it from her anymore?“Nellie.”
She turned, whirling on her feet to face the voice.
“Mommy?”
But the air grew denser then, and the spectral vision of the woman wobbled and faded in a second; her features dissolving into the watery night. Nell shook her head and tried to steady her breathing. It was not real, just a little spill; a dream within a dream, fueled by memory and fear.
The ringing of her phone startled her.
“Jesus!” She exclaimed, jumping in place.
She was too highly strung. For a second she thought she’d seen… Nevermind. Hadn’t they had mold problems? Yes. That was it, most like. Just that. It must be affecting her already. Between that and her excitable nature her mind was conjuring up all sorts of fantasies, and they swirled around her until she could no longer tell if the shadows had grown darker, or the figures that surrounded her were indeed there.
Her phone rang again and this time she fumbled to pick it up.
“Hello?” Her voice shuddered.
There was a fine crackle.
“Nellie?”
Nell sighed. Oh, Shirley, of course. She must be wondering why she’d called.
“Hey, Shirley.”
The line frizzled again.
“... your message”
Nell gave a humorless chuckle and palmed her forehead. She was sweating but cold.
“Uh, I can’t hear you right, Shirl. I-um-I… I sent you a message? About Luke?”
“Yes, yes. I heard. He’s alright Nellie. He’s… fine. Listen, I received a very worrying call from Steve, he said that dad told him you…”
There was a sputter and a crack and then her voice was lost for a few seconds to static.
“Sorry Shirl, you’re breaking up. Um, you said ah-s-Steve called?”
She was having trouble concentrating now because the shadows were tightening around her, and she still wasn’t certain whether the unseen presences she felt were just her anxiety, or even the mold. There were five faces around her, she thought, decrepit and worn and translucent and probably not real. She blinked quickly to dispel them, but the impression seemed engraved into her retinas and would not leave even when she closed her eyes.
“Nellie?” She heard her sister’s voice in her ears.
A hand landed on her shoulder, crawling over the cloth of her shirt toward her collar until it was curled around her throat.
“Yes, Shirl?” She whispered, voice thinning until she could barely breathe.
“Are you in the house Nellie?”
The faces looked into hers with their endlessly white eyes. Dead, they were the eyes of the dead. She had to leave, now! The hand on her neck cut off the scream she let out.
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