The Curse.

The Move.

During the time it took us to pack up all of our things, my thoughts kept returning to the painting on the landing, which looked valuable but why would anyone have the emptied the house of every other piece of funiture? But that one painting? It was so strange.

While this was constantly on my mind, Dad and I was kept busy helping various charity van drivers load up their vans with different pieces of our furniture, so when it was done I finally had a moment with Dad to ask him about it.

We were in the van heading towards town and the new life we were starting. Dad looked relaxed and happy. But I was anxious and he knew it.

"Don't worry. Michael, everything will be fine."

"I'm not worrying, Dad. It's just a bit daunting. That's all."

"I know but I've noticed you have been pre-occupied lately and you haven't seemed sure of yourself to tell me, so spit it out whatever it is because I won't be happy until you do."

"You're right. Something has been puzzling me. Why the hell would anyone empty a house of all their furniture and personal belongings. But leave that painting on the stairs?"

"Well, maybe they didn't like it anymore, I must admit I'm not all that keen on it. Was that all that has been on your mind for the past few days?"

"Yeah, Dad. It was. Knowing too well that he wanted to laugh at me. "Let me have a proper look at it first. Then maybe we could decide whether or not to get rid of it? Eh, Dad?"

"Ok. But it's only an old portrait someone that had has been dead for about two hundred years. Oh, look. Home sweet home."

He finished as we pulled up outside the house, which was now our new home, and that signalled the beginning of a new life that we both hoped for.

As I climbed out of the van, I finally noticed that our home was the only house at the end of what looked like a dead-end street.

When Dad had brought me here to have a look around. I was too mixed up in my own thoughts to noticed that we had to pass through a set of gates, and up a short drive that swept around to the left, up a small hill, with our home sat on top.

'Ok, lets do this' I thought to myself as I walked around to the rear of the van and opened the back doors to start unloading.

Dad had unlocked the front door and had come back to the help me unload the van when another truck arrived.

"Here is the new furniture Michael. Are you okay to take this stuff into the house while I help him?"

"Sure Dad. I'll be fine with this." Lifting the first box out and carrying it inside.

Luckily, Dad and I had already discussed which bedrooms we were taking while we were packing so there was no arguements and no mix-ups with our belongings. Dad was taking the master bedroom as it looked over the back garden and I was taking the slightly smaller bedroom. Which was nearer to the library, which Dad thought would be an easier option for when I started college and needed to study.

I never thought that moving house would be so hectic, it took me about an hour to unload the van and put the various boxes into the rooms that were labelled on each.

Then the best part of the day, helping Dad unload the other truck. As it turned out there were supposed to be another four deliveries of furniture to the house until it was fully furnished. Only then could Dad finally relax knowing we were finally moved in.

The next few days consisted of unpacking and building, also with alot of bad language mostly from Dad, which I found amusing. There was also the occassional emotional outburst, where both of our tempers flared up, causing us to ignore each other for a couple of hours.

When this happened I took the chance to have a closer look either at the painting, which had been moved into my bedroom or to look around the house, or to clear away empty boxes or unpack those that needed emptying.

At one point Dad had gotten really stressed out and decided to start on his pet project. Which was the back garden. So while he was outside, I decided to have a look in the attic as I knew that were a few plastic boxes that Dad said he wanted putting up there.

I had not really noticed any details of any of the doors in this place until now. The attic door was made from solid wood and had five studs embedded into it. It looked quite heavy but opened easily with what looked like a gate latch.

As I opened the door, I noticed a light switch on the wall, to my left which I flicked down, overhead, there was a light fitting with a naked light bulb attached, which I guessed to be a 40 watt. Ahead of me there were three wooden steps which lead to a platform or landing. As I mounted them I could gauge by the amount of dust that no-one had been in the attic for some years.

I had to turn left as I reached the platform and come back on myself, up six or seven steps and then I had reached the attic space.

The whole space was illuminated by five or six naked light bulbs hanging from the roof. up here, I found that there were narrow lanes of clear space, running up and down, row after row of boxes, tea chests, wooden chests and dust sheets with what looked like tailors mannequins and mirrors and paintings underneath.

I sighed deeply and said out loud. "This going to take some time to sort out, as if Dad isn't stressed out enough, just wait til he see's this lot. I'm going to have to show him" I turned to leave the attic and fetch those boxes.

But in between me leaving and coming back up with the boxes, I had decided that telling Dad could wait a bit longer as I wanted to explore a little first.

But my next job was to make sure that Dad as okay in the garden. I made my way down to Dad's bedroom and looked out of the window, I could see him walking around taking measurments and taking notes of them.

I smiled to myself thinking of how much I loved him at that moment. As I turned away from the window, something made me look back, there here was something not quite right, apart from the fact that the windows needed a good wash down, there was something else.... That's it! There were no curtains!

I wondered if there were any in those boxes upstairs? Come to think of it, there were no curtains up at any of the windows and I didn't recall seeing any whilst unpacking our things. So if Dad finds me up there. I have a good reason.

I shook my head thinking I have never once since I learned to talk, lied to my Dad, I have never had a reason to. But a little white lie couldn't do any harm, could it? Even if it was partly true?

Well. There was only one way to find out. I made a decision to ask Dad about the curtains and then tell him where I would be if he needed me. I took one last look out of the window and then walked out of the room, closing the door behind me.

That was when I noticed that it was yet another solid wood door with the same amount of studs embedded in it as the attic door. At that moment instead of going downstairs as I had planned, I walked along both sides of the hallway, noting that all of the doors were exactly the same.

One could think that you were headed for your bedroom and you could end up in the storage cupboard or the linen closet. As is what we used it for.