The Abandoned House

June 14th, 1942

Mother, Jubilee, and I worked hard at the store today. With Father being away at war, everything is becoming slightly rough for us. The store is running slow since not many people pass through these parts anymore, but it doesn't matter. Jubilee and I are allowed to read and listen to the radio while manning the register, which both of us are perfectly alright with. Mother usually spends most of her days at home taking care of the house though the only visitor we get is Grandmother. She bakes pies for Jubilee and I so when we get home, we always have some sort of sweets to eat. She's just happy that we'll run the store for the summer while Jubilee is out of school.

David and I are going into the city this weekend. He's borrowing his parents' car and we're going to a few dances. I'm supposed to be home by Sunday morning, but knowing David, he'll want to be gone the entire weekend and not show up until Monday. I just hope that everything will work out perfect for him and I...

I drove through the countryside, my hand gripping the steering wheel while farms, small stores, and houses passed by my view. I had a photo shoot to take care of sometime tomorrow and I had to spend the day driving to where I was going. My fingers tapped with the beat on the song on the radio when something in the distance caught my eye.

Pushed back into the woods was an abandoned house. The paint had chipped from its boards and the roof of the porch was slightly dipping. Vines grew up the side of the house, touching the second story window like it was waiting to knock at it.

I turned into an overgrown path and began to head towards the house to check it out. Ever since I was a child, houses like these were always interesting. I wanted to explore the abandoned places and see what I could find. There was always a story behind each of them and I was curious to what this one's was.

My car door squeaked to a shut as I hung my camera on my arm and approached the porch that was missing the steps that led up to the stoop. I had a feeling that this house had been sitting here quite a while so the steps must of rotted away like parts of the house had already. My eyes glanced up at the dipping porch to see if it was safe to step under without it landing on my head, probably trapping me.

“Come on, Jezette. You can do this. I mean, it's not the first time that you've went exploring at some abandoned house,” I muttered to myself before taking a deep breath and stepping up onto the porch, listening to the wood under my feet moan with the sudden weight. The sound almost made me step off of it, but I knew that I just couldn't. I came here because there was something about this house. I just had to find out what exactly it was.

June 19th, 1942

David brought me home last night. Mother was so mad at me. She told me that I should be ashamed for not coming home when I was supposed to. I knew that it wasn't how she and my father raised me, but I am seventeen. I should be allowed a little bit of freedom, right? David and I spent most of the weekend at one of his friend's apartments. He was out of town for the weekend so it was just me, him, and a special bottle of wine that was almost a hundred years old. David also gave me a ring that belonged to his grandmother. It was a beautiful little gold ring with a single ruby placed in the middle of it. He told me that it was his promise of me and him being together. I just love him so much. I couldn't see myself with anyone else.

The rusted screen door slammed behind me as I took a step into the musty house. Part of the vine that was outside was growing up the side of the house, peeking it's way through a missing brick and climbing up towards the ceiling. I snapped a quick picture of it, only given the light of one of the nearby windows.

I walked across the floor imagining a small family here, two children sitting in the floor with dolls or cars, the father sitting in his chair with a newspaper, and the mother knitting in her chair, smiling at her children. A smile spread across my lips as the image played out in my mind, but quickly faded away and the walls darkened once again to the real world.

The floors creaked slightly with each step I took and I noticed that the house was in a worse shape than it looked from the outside. The walls were cracked in parts, there were holes in the wood floors, and windows were shattered, glass spread out across the floor. Abandoned items lay across the floors and each of them brought a new curiosity to my mind. It was almost as if the person just got up and left, completely forgetting most of their things behind.

I walked over to a newspaper that was tacked on the wall, my eyes finding the date that was printed on the yellowed paper. September 2nd , 1945. I snapped a quick picture of it, my eyes glancing over at the inked paper and realized that, that was the day World War II had ended. If that was the case, then that meant that this house hadn't had any patrons in almost seventy years.

June 24th, 1942

So far this summer hasn't been the best. Mother is making Jubilee and I pull extra hours at the store, in hope of us making a bit more money to pay for stock and our basic necessities. David stops in when he gets the chance, but he knows that if Mother finds our, she'll make sure that I stay at home and she'll run the store with my younger sister. We've received a couple of letters from father, but for the most part, it's so different without him being around anymore. Jubilee and I fear that one day we're going to come home and see the telegram that tells us the worst of news. The war doesn't matter all that much to us, it was just we have someone out on the battlefield. I pray that Father is safe; wherever he is out there.

My feet carried me into the dining room where a skeleton of a table and chairs lay. Parts of the wood had been eaten away by bugs, but there was still some beauty in the oak. I glided my fingers over the wood and found a coat of dust, but it didn't matter. There was history somewhere in this house and I was determined to find it. With another picture shot, I saw another creeping vine covering a dusty stuffed bear that sat in the corner.

This house was slightly haunting as more images filled my mind of the people who once lived here. I could see a little girl playing with the bear. I almost felt like a part of the family, but at the same time, I was an invader. I knew nothing about this house except for what I was finding. I mean, something serious could have happened to the family.

They could have had a serious reason for leaving this gorgeous place behind.

The nearby stairs beckoned for me to climb them and as I began to walk towards them, I could feel a breeze blow through the house causing my hair to stand on end. I glanced around to make sure that no one was here with me and without much of another thought, I made my way up the rickety staircase.

June 30th, 1942

The last day of the month and the news has steadily headed downhill. Mother told Mrs. Vans (David's mother) about our weekend in the city and how we came home pretty late. Mrs. Vans thinks that if David joins the army, it'll teach him some lessons. He is seventeen so with her consent, he can go off to war with everyone else. I hate to see him go though that. Mrs. Vans already lost her husband to the bombing at Pearl Harbor and now she was just sending her son out to those same lines, same wars, and same horrors. He left yesterday and it already feels like he's been ripped from my side. It's so strange now with me and Jubilee sitting in the shop without a surprise visit from my boyfriend.

We got a letter from Father the other day. He said that everything was okay over in England, but it was still pretty rough. He said that the Germans were bombing almost nightly and it was so hard for him to sleep without hearing the screams of other people or the shake of bombs hitting the ground. I continue to pray for everyone in the war as I twist David's ring around my finger. Hopefully he'll come home to me and we'll remain happy together.

The second floor was brighter than the first as I wandered down the hallway. A frail set of curtains steadily blew in the breeze and I could hear a twig smacking one of the remaining windowpanes. It caused me to jump when I first heard it, but it made me laugh as I began to think about it. The upper floor consisted of four rooms; a bathroom and three bedrooms.

My feet carried me to the smallest bedroom first and I saw more newspaper clippings from World War II. Some of them were from the end of the war when others were from battles like Normandy and the bombing of Hiroshima. Some of the ends of the newspaper were curled up over their holdings and I snapped another picture of it.

The vine was spilling into the room and when I walked over to the window, I saw a little squirrel sitting on the sill. A smile spread on my lips as I took a picture of the small creature and slipped my hand into my pocket and pulled out some cashews that I had bought at a convenience store a few towns back. I dropped it on the wood floor of the room and I watched as the animal jumped down and picked it up before nibbling on the very end of it.

July 10th, 1942

Life runs slow without David. I've been incredibly sick the past few days and Mother has had to take care of the store with my sister. I lay in bed with this journal, writing or drawing when I feel like it, but that's not very often. I twist the ring on my finger, a habit of mine now. I have dreams about David being out in battle. Not only do I have to worry about one telegram now, but two. I'm afraid that one day, Mother will get a call from Mrs. Vans, giving me the news that I've never wanted to hear. I... I just can't bear to think of it.

The second closest room to the stairs must have been the master bedroom. A large king sized bed lay in the center of the room; the blankets still thrown over it like it had just been made by a perfectionist. The flowered wallpaper was peeling off the wall in spots where the wall was cracked by some unknown force. A picture frame sat on a dusty beside table and I walked over before picking it up and holding the cold silver frame in my hands, peering at the family in front of me.

There was four people. A mother, father, and two daughters. The mother had short short hair that was the style of the time. A tight dark dress held her figure and her husband's arm was wrapped around her waist, holding her close to him. The father had light eyes and hair to match. He wore a proper suit which made me think of my own father. The taller daughter looked as if she was about fourteen years old. Her hair was dark like her mother's, but her's was curled and fixed as if someone had spent hours on it. The shorter one looked about ten with long light-colored hair. She wore a dress similar to her sister's and it made me smile. The family smiled back at me and I put the photograph back on the table before walking off to the next room.

July 16th, 1942

Grandmother visited us today. She asked me how I was doing since I still hadn't seemed to have gotten over my sickness. I told her that I was feeling alright, though I really haven't. I've spent most of my day's daydreaming about David, me, and my family all living happily. Life seemed perfect in my dreams and then when I wake up I feel like crying. It saddens me that none of these dreams seem like they'll ever happen, but it doesn't matter. Hopefully I'll be feeling better soon, but I never know. This sickness makes me worry about some of the things that I've heard in the past about people who have gotten sick and just have never gotten over it... Mother just said we got a telegram...

The next room hadn't been touched in years. I think it was the only room that was left the same when the people abandoned it. The blankets on the bed were pulled down like one of the daughters forgot to make it that morning, a purple dress hung in the closet as if they were going to wear it the next day, a notebook open on a desk next to the window. A cross hung over the bed and there was a cracked vanity next to the door. I walked into the room in shock and I looked around it and felt like I had just traveled back in time.

My camera was snapping pictures left and right as I looked around the room. I found another picture, but this time it was just the taller daughter. She looked around sixteen when the photograph was taken and I held the frame tightly in my hand. This must have been her room, but why had all of it been left behind? There had to be some reason why this beautiful house was abandoned and I had a feeling that it was something to do with this girl.

July 24th, 1942

I'm sorry I've abandoned you journal. I just don't know what to do with myself nowadays. Father died on the 15th in one of the bombings. They said that he died a fighter, but I had a feeling that he was as scared as we were for his safety. He never wanted to go to war. He saw what happened to Grandfather during the first World War. He just happened to have been drafted though and he had to leave his family, his home, his store, and head off into the battle lines protected his country that he remained faithful to. We're so broken apart. How are we going to make it without him around?

My fingers leafed through the notebook on the desk and I didn't see much. Most of it was filled with drawings and small writings from one of the daughters. It took quite a bit of courage from me to finally open the drawer on the desk. It felt like I was invading someone's privacy, even though the house had been abandoned for who knows how long. The first few drawers were filled with papers, pictures, and other small notes. When I had gotten to the final drawer, I found something though.

At the top of the drawer was a leather journal with the name “Eleanor Greyson” scratched into the leather. I looked as if it had been done with the knife and was perfect. I knew that I had finally found something that would help me find out about this girl. In front of me was Eleanor's journal and that might just help me find out what happened to her or why they left this house leaving all her belongings behind.

August 4th, 1942

Journal, I don't know how to say this, but I think I may just run away. There's not much life around here anymore without David around or Father's death still hanging in the air. Mother has been grieving for days. I don't believe that she'll ever forget the man that she'd been married to since she was seventeen. Mrs. Vans gave me my first letter from David and I can't help, but cherish it. I put in the top drawer of my desk for safe keeping, but then again, I may just forget about it. Seeing his handwriting almost makes me feel like I have a connection to him, but without him here, life continues to move slowly. I don't think I shall run away anymore. My family needs me and where would David find me?

My fingers fumbled through the yellowed pages and I read a few lines of Eleanor's cursive handwriting. It was gorgeous by anyone's standards and it reminded me of my mother's when she used to write small notes for me and place them in my lunchbox for me to find at school. It didn't take me long to find out about Eleanor's life with her mother, Jubilee, David, and her father. I could see the grieving as I got towards the end of the book and when I noticed that the last entry ended in October of 1942 with the crinkles from pages that had been ripped out.

I ran my hand over the binding and stared at it, trying to figure out why the pages had been ripped from the book and where they may possibly be. I rummaged again through the desk in hopes of finding them, but alas, there was nothing besides what was there before. I slammed the desk drawer shut and I picked up the journal before snapping a few more pictures of the room before heading out of the house and towards my car to grab my phone.

It didn't take me long before I found the person that I was supposed to take photos for and called them before placing the phone up to my ear.

“Jezette, darling! Where are you?” My client said and I let out a sigh.

“I'm still a few hours out, but is there something that I could ask of you?” I said and there was a slight pause between our conversation.

“What is it?”

I bit my lip before saying, “Do you mind if I wait a few days before shooting you? I've got some business that I need to take care of, but I'll be there as soon as I can. I've just... I came across this abandoned house and I need to know the history behind it before I forget. There's something here. I know it.”

“I suppose I could do this one favor for you. I mean, you are my favorite photographer. Just try to be here by the end of next week. I've got a flight to Miami Monday and I cannot miss it,” she said and I agreed before stating our goodbyes and hanging up the phone.

Thank God she understood.

August 11th, 1942

I have such trouble trying to write on a daily basis. Not much goes on around here anymore except for the fact that Grandmother visits about three times a week and it's now the hottest month of the entire year. It's funny that I can't remember to write everyday, but I can remember to pray three times a day. I don't know why I pray anymore. I mean, is there a reason to? If there was a God out there, then why is my father dead? Why is my boyfriend at war? Why am I the one who has to pull my mother out of bed every morning and make sure that she doesn't do anything that she won't regret? Why am I caring for Jubilee by myself? I have no idea why I'm questioning my faith anymore, but I feel as if I must. If God is out there watching me, I apologize.

The town library was about twenty miles away from where I was at right now. It was in a slightly more populated area where there was less farmland, but all of it looked the same. I walked up to the front desk and saw an ancient librarian sitting there with her glasses pushed up to her eyes, her nose in a large historical novel. Slowly, she glanced up at me and shut her book, holding her finger in her place.

“Could you show me where your archives would be? I'm looking for newspapers from the forties. Some on the war and possibly some a few years after,” I said, knotting my fingers together and she nodded her head before pointing towards the back of the library where books were stacked upon one another.

“If you can't find anything, then you can use the computers and try to search through the town's history,” she said, pointing to a set of ancient computers where some people were tapping on and cursing at because they couldn't get them to work.

I nodded my head, heading over to the pile before finding a set of old newspapers. Rifling through them, it didn't take me long before I started finding the newspaper articles that I had found on the wall of the old house. These were a little more preserved than the others, but it didn't matter. My interest wasn't in the articles, it was in the house's history and it's patrons.

A few hours of going through each paper, I came across one from six years later. The headline on the front page said, “Greyson's General Store Restored by Last Greyson Daughter and Her Husband”. A smile found my lips as I picked up the paper and I read the caption under the black and white picture aloud.

“Jubilee Sarkozy and her husband, James, restore the abandoned store back to its original state,” I whispered and when I felt someone tap on my shoulder and I jumped.

“Ah, so you're interested in the Greysons. If I'm right, the Sarkozys still own the store,” the librarian said and I looked at her with a smile.

“Could you tell me where it's at? I've been doing research on the family,” I asked and she nodded her head before giving me directions from the library.

August 30th, 1942
The leaves begin to turn their fall shades as I watch them from my bedroom window. A little squirrel has been visiting me the past few days and I feed him peanuts before watching him jump away with his new found food. Jubilee calls him Dusty like the dog that we used to have when we were little. I don't think she remembers him, though. Mrs. Vans has been bringing me letters from David. Each one is more amiss than the next. I can tell that he hates it out there, but at least he's able to see the sights of France; war or not. He tells me that he's made friends with a man by the name of Gabriel who carries around small sweets like candy or chocolate that he's sent from home. He fears for his and Gabriel's lives, but I wouldn't blame him. War is like walking through hell while you're still alive.

Greyson's General Store was a white building with a light blue roof. The store's name was painted on the side of the place in black letters and it seemed a little bit busy to be a small town country store. The white wooden door squeaked open as I pushed it and I saw an older woman and two teenage boys working behind the counter. They watched me carefully and I gave them a small wave before walking down a few of the aisles, glancing at the items that I had no interest in.

When I finished looking around, I headed towards the counter, pulling the leather notebook out of my satchel, and holding it tightly. The woman's eyes watched me like a hawk and she glanced at her two sons who were picking on each other while I approached her. She leaned on the counter and glanced at me before saying, “How may I help you?”

“A-Are you Mrs. Sarkozy?” I asked her with a slight stutter.

“That's my mother. I'm Zenya,” she said softly and I pulled out the notebook that I was holding. I laid it down on the counter and Zenya stared at it for a moment before her eyes went wide and she watched me even more carefully than before.

“Where did you get this?” She asked me, picking up the leather bound book before running her fingers over Eleanor's name.

“I'm a photographer. I saw an abandoned house which turned out to be your mother's childhood home. I went looking through it for an opportunity for photos and I happened to come across her sister's room. I noticed that some of the pages are missing in the back of the book and I-I just want to know what happened to Eleanor and if I could possibly restore the house. Do you mind taking me to see your mother? Maybe letting me talk to her?” I asked, biting my lip in the middle of my conversation. I mean, it was a bit of much to ask and Zenya's eyes narrowed at me during the question before she flipped to the very back of the book. She ran her fingers over the remains of the ripped pages and she nodded her head before looking at the boys, whispering something to them, and leading me out of the store.

September 15th, 1942

It's been two months since David has left. I've went into a slight vow of silence and haven't spoken in a few days. I do my work at the store, go home, and lay in bed, trying to forget about everything going on around me. I've noticed that there's a vine growing up the side of the house and though Jubilee keeps talking about cutting it down, I tell her not to. I think it's a pretty vine and though it may creep, it's still growing strong even though the weather is starting to drop from the nineties to the seventies. I write this sitting in the garden throwing cashews at Dusty. He sits by my feet gnawing at each nut like it may be his last. I sit and giggle, though. It's kinda cute how he stuffs them in his cheeks.

I've always hated the smell of nursing homes. They smell too clean, too much like perfume. Fake plants sit around the home and people stare at Zenya and I as we walk through the main area, heading towards the bedrooms. Some of them talk to Zenya for a few minutes before she tells them that she needs to get me to her mother before coming back and talking to them.

“Hopefully she's not asleep. Also, I should probably warn you; she spends a lot of time looking out the window. I don't know how she'll react to the mention of Eleanor, but then again, I take her to my aunt's grave every Friday,” Zenya muttered to me as we walked down a semi-quiet hallway before she knocked lightly on a tan door before we heard a voice say, “Come in.”

I bit my lip and Zenya opened the door, gesturing for me to come inside.

September 25th, 1942

My eyes stare up at the cross above my bed and I pray. I'm running low on pages in my journal and I don't think we'll have enough money to just buy me a new one. Money is running low with people beginning to ration their food for the war. Mother has finally gotten over most of her grief and now she bakes her pies once again. Mrs. Vans visits us very often and she focuses a lot of time on me, asking me how life was with David before he left, and if we had any plans in the future when he returns... If he returns. How much longer will this war go on? How many more lives will be lost?

“Mama, there's someone here I'd like you to meet,” Zenya said as I looked over and saw a white haired woman sitting in a wheelchair facing the window. I could only see her back, but I heard her take a deep breath before turning her chair around and facing her daughter. Her blue eyes watched me carefully for a moment, taking in every part of me and I saw confusion cross her face.

“M-Mrs. Sarkozy, m-my name is Jezette Antoinette. I found something that belonged to your family and I just wanted a little bit of information,” I stuttered as the old woman watched me. She gestured for me to come forward and again, I pulled the leather bound journal out of my bag and handed it over to her.

“This was Eleanor's. H... Where did you find this?” She asked me.

October 10th, 1942

This page is stained with tears for a reason. I mean, I have every reason to cry right now. My heart has been ripped out of my chest, torn to shreds, and spat upon. I lay in the furthermost corner of the room with the telegram tightly clutched in my hand. Mrs. Vans showed up at my house, shaking, crying, and she handed it to me with the horrible news written upon it. “Deeply regret to inform you... David William Vans has reported to have lost his life October 9th, 1942. We express our deepest our deepest sympathies...” I squeeze my ring tight and I read over the words over and over again, not being able to believe a single one of them. This... This just cannot be true... How? My David... Oh, my poor precious David...

“I was taking photos of your old house and I came across your sister's room and some photographs of your family. I found articles on the walls and I was just wondering... What happened to Eleanor? The last journals were missing from the back of the book. They had been ripped out and I was hoping that you happened to have them. I also wanted to ask you a few more questions, but I think I'll leave it at that for now,” I said and Jubilee nodded her head before letting out a soft sigh. She opened the book and her eyes found the last journal dated at October 10th, 1942.

“Ah, the telegram that ended her life,” she said softly, “You want the letter first or the story?”

“Tell me the story. Please.”

“Two days passed after she got the telegram, Mother and I hadn't heard from Eleanor. She hadn't left her room and her cries had finally ended. Silence filled the entire upstairs of the house and my mother went up to check up on her. She came downstairs all of a sudden and told me to go down the street to one of her friend's houses and stay there until she came and got me. I was there for a few hours and when I came home, Mother told me that Eleanor had ran away. It wasn't until I was seventeen years old myself, when I understood what had happened. Mother gave me the letter and the last journal in Eleanor's notebook. This was a year after we had moved out of the house leaving most of our belongings behind. From what I heard, that house is in a bad condition now. I just hope someone would come around and give it the look that it had back in its hay day.” She wheeled her chair over to a chest on the other side of the room and opened it up before pulling out two yellowed pages. She handed each of them over to me and I picked the first one up before reading it.

October 11th, 1942
It's amazing in all the time that I've had this journal, I've never written in it two days in a row. This is different though. This is the final journal in this leather story. This is the final journal that I shall ever write. I've decided that I need to move on. I can't stand to live with David, without my father. This war has taken too many lives and without the ones that mean the most to me, this world seems bleak and bland. I hope Jubilee and Mother will be alright without me. I mean, they only have to care for each other now and I hope that they'll be able to stick with each other until both of their dying days. I know God can see me write this and I hope that he allows me to be with David, even in our afterlives.

My fingers held the journal tightly and I felt tears brim up in my eyes. I didn't know if I wanted to continue with the letter, but I felt as if I must. I tucked the journal behind it and my eyes began to scroll over the smudged letters and bleeding ink.

Dear, Jubilee and Mother,
I'm sorry to cause you the suffering and misery that you are about to face from my goodbyes. We've already lost Father and now I've lost David. I just... I cannot go on without him. I'm sorry about the state that you shall find me in. If the closet door is shut; someone open it. You'll find me in there and I promise that there won't be much to clean up. Don't ask where I got the rope, it took a lot to get it. I'm sorry, but this is something I must do. Bury me with the ruby on my finger and don't hold much of a funeral for me. A woman with a broken heart doesn't deserve to have a show put on for her.
In loving memory,
Eleanor Faith Greyson

I glanced up at Jubilee and handed the letters back to her. She didn't take them though. Instead, she placed them in my hands along with the journal. Her blue eyes watched the emotion that I was feeling and I knew that there was some sort of connection between me and her.

“It's sad how her story ended. I'm amazed you didn't notice her grave by the creek behind the house,” she said softly and I nodded my head, taking a seat. It took me a few moments to calm down and think about everything that I had learned throughout the day. Evening was coming fast and I stood up and looked at Jubilee once again.

“I-Is there any chance that I could buy the property from you and fix up the house. I mean, I may not look like a lot, but there's something about the house that drew me to it. I want to restore it to when you were a little girl. There's life in that house and I want it to be a memory to your sister and everything that has happened to you.

“I don't own the property, darling,” Jubilee said.

“I'll still pay. Your family owned it and it just wouldn't be right for me to take the rights for it and change it. I-I don't want to ruin any of it...” I stuttered and Jubilee took my shaking hands and sighed, shaking her head at me.

“Jezette, I want you to take your money and invest it into the house. The only thing I ask of you is that you spread my sister's story, allow me to visit her plot, and you save my articles that were on the walls,” she said to me with a smile and I nodded my head in agreement.

~~~

I named the house Greyson Manor. It took almost a year for it to be restored, but it was entirely worth it. The grass was clean cut, no dip in the porch, and three white stairs going to the porch. When you walked into the house, you were greeted by the walls lined with things that were in the house when I found it. For example, Jubilee's articles, Eleanor's journal, a photo of the Greysons, and the little stuffed bear that I found out was a family heirloom.

I chose to live in the house since I had the connection to it. I wasn't the only one who stayed here now though. I brought my kitten from Bridgewater and I had met a nice local guy who originally was helping me with my huge restoring plan.

Zenya, her mother, and even sometimes her sons came to the house every Friday. Jubilee made her weekly rounds of visiting her sister. Greyson Manor remained in my possession and I cared for the house and property, using much of it for some of my shoots.

It's funny that a year ago, I had passed this house quite a few times visiting my clients. When I finally decided to go look at it, I found out so much more behind it. As the saying goes, if these walls could talk, they would tell so many stories. It was true about this home. I found out about the Greysons, how they lost so much in World War II. Each house has a treasure behind it. It just takes a little digging to find out.