A week later, you finally manage to take a few days off work and make the drive to your old childhood house, now with other people living in it. You smile at the kid playing outside, who looks no older than you when you first went to the old lady’s house. The kid waves back and gives you a large, happy smile.
You make your way to the house next door. It looks exactly as it used to when you were little, no way ruined or abandoned. You shivered a little, wondering why neither of your parents were worried about you visiting an old, abandoned house for years.
You touch the necklace hanging from your neck under your shirt. It gives you enough courage to push open the door and enter.
“Hello. Anybody here?” You call, walking hesitantly into the hallway. The house doesn’t feel as big as it did when you were little - back when you knew every corner and crevice of the place, but it feels just as welcoming as before. “I’m a friend,” you say, hoping the old lady - Harriet, your mind supplies - might just come from the kitchen with a tray of delicious smelling treats as she used to years ago.
You look around, smiling as you remember the time spent in this house, with Miss (as she always insisted) Harriet teaching you about all sort of stuff.
Most of the things you remember are still here, except for Miss Harriet. You turn around to leave when you smell the sweet aroma that used to always fill up the house.
“I’ll be there in a moment, dear.”
Your eyes widen at the sound of Miss Harriet’s voice, the same from years ago.
Truth to her word, Miss Harriet comes in the hallway carrying a tray of sweets, just as she used to do when you were little.
She does a double take when she sees you there. “Oh. I don’t normally have adults visiting me but I suppose I can make an exception for you, dear,” she says, sweet smile in place. “Why don’t you come with me in the kitchen?”
You nod dumbly and follow her into the kitchen. She places the tray on the table and gestures for you to take a seat. You do and she follows your example, still smiling.
“Is there anything I can do for you, dear? It’s quite unusual that someone your age comes here.”
“I…” You shake your head and point towards the tray of sweets. “Can I first take one?”
“Of course, dear. Take as many as you want.”
You take a cookie, remembering the first time you came here. You don’t remember why, you just found yourself opening the door. Miss Harriet came from apparently nowhere and invited you to her kitchen then placed a tray of sweets on the table in front of you. When you asked her if you could have one, she said you could have as many as you wanted.
After finishing your cookie (it tasted the same as you remembered and it was just as delicious), you nervously rub your hands over your jeans. “Look, Miss Harriet… I don’t know how to ask you but uh, I…” You hesitate then pull your necklace from under your shirt. “I used to come here all the time when I was little.”
Miss Harriet reaches across the table and takes your hand in hers, squeezing slightly. “I’ve had many kids coming here, dear. I’m afraid you’ll have to be more specific.”
“I’m Naomi. I used to live next door.”
Her face falls before she schools her expression into something neutral. “Naomi. It’s been a long time. I’m glad to see you again, dear.” She smiles, the same honest and sweet smile as you remember.
“It’s good to see you too, Miss Harriet. I missed you.”
“So have I, dear. What brings you to this old lady’s house?” She laughs.
“A few days ago I found a photo from when I was little. I was playing with a toy you gave me and had this necklace. My dad told me how I used to play in this house and mentioned how I found the toy around here. Problem was, I knew you gave it to me. When I told him about you, he said no one lived here… and that it was an old, abandoned thing. My mom said the same thing. I only ever saw your house as welcoming and beautiful. And you were so kind.”
Miss Harriet shakes her head. “My house appears that way to people who need it. Who need me. Children, especially, and sometimes teenagers wander inside needing help. I’ve had adults come here but not as often as kids. Adults don’t really notice my house as anything other than a normal house. They’re too caught up in their problems to realize it’s not at all a normal house.”
“I’m not an usual old lady, Naomi.”
You laugh. “Yeah, I kind of got that now. You’re great, really. I just… don’t understand how it works.”
Miss Harriet sighs, smiling sadly. “I’m a witch, dear. I don’t even look this way, I just found people trust an oldlady and her house more than they do a younger woman. I put a spell on my house - whoever needs my help sees it as it is. Those who do not need my help, or those black at heart, will see a ruined house, old and abandoned. You saw my house as it was.”
“My parents didn’t,” You mutter. “What kind of people need your help?”
Her smile turns even sadder. “The neglected ones. The abused. The bullied. The lonely. The sad. The depressed.”
“I don’t know, dear. I never now which one they are. And I never ask.”
Well, you certainly fit into some of those categories. Lonely. You didn’t really have friends back then. Bullied. Some of the kids from school went out of their way to be cruel to you. Sad. It made sense. Neglected. Probably. Your parents didn’t really have time, their jobs didn’t allow it so checking up on you when you were here was out of the question. They barely had time to play with you. Spending time with them was a miracle of itself.
“What about my parents? They never saw your house as it really was.”
“I doubt they needed it. I may not know the exact reason people need it but I know exactly why others don’t need it. Your parents had all they needed. They had each other and they had you.”
You smiled. “That’s nice to hear. Thank you for everything, Miss Harriet.”
“Don’t thank me, dear. I quite enjoyed your company. Oh, I think there’s someone at the door.”
True enough, you hear the front door opening and then hesitant footsteps into the hallway.
“Come in the kitchen, dear. Don’t be afraid,” Miss Harriet calls to whoever just came to her house. “I have someone I want you to meet.”
A fee seconds later, a child runs through the door and into Miss Harriet’s arms. “Aww, I missed you too, honey. Come up now, look who’s here.”
The child disentangle themselves from Miss Harriet’s arms and looks up to you with a smile. You recognize her as the kid that now lives in your childhood house.
“Hello there. My name is Naomi. Who are you?”
She giggles. “Hi. I’m Marie.” She sticks out her hand for you to shake. “Will you be my friend?”
You laugh and shake her hand. “Nice to meet you, Marie. Yes, of course I’ll be your friend.”
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