Looking around, memories came flooding back to her. The ornate vintage wallpaper, the creaky wood floors, the big stone fireplace that gave the living room its rustic feel. This house had been her only sanctuary as a child when visiting her grandmother during summer vacations.
Her grandmother’s death two months ago had come as a shock. Mary felt the loss deeply, as her grandmother was the closest thing to a parent she’d had. But along with mourning, a sense of hope had emerged when the lawyer told her the house was now hers.
For the past few years, Mary had been stuck in a miserable rut back in the city. Ever since the incident with her abusive father, she had isolated herself, too traumatized to live a normal life. This house represented a fresh start. A chance to begin again.
Mary knew it would take time to heal old wounds. But she hoped the quiet simplicity of this place would nourish her soul. She pictured lazy afternoons reading by the garden. Long walks with only the woods as company. Fixing up the old house room by room, making it a home.
Yes, this felt right. Mary knew challenges awaited, but she had never felt more ready. With the house now hers, she could break free of the past. She thanked her grandmother silently for providing her with this gift – this chance for a new life.
After bringing in the last of her bags, Mary decided to explore the grounds. She walked out to the backyard, taking in the overgrown garden. The place was clearly in need of care, but Mary could still glimpse its hidden beauty.
Roses clamored up a broken trellis, reaching thorny branches towards the sun. An ancient oak tree stood sturdy along the back fence, its knobby roots snaking through the soil. Mary ran her hand along its trunk, feeling an odd energy hum beneath the bark.
She inhaled the scent of sage and lavender run wild among the weeds. Mary had always felt there was something special about her grandmother’s garden, like it existed in its own realm, connected to but separate from the ordinary world.
As a child she’d pretend the flowers could speak to her, sharing their secrets. The old oak tree served as a wise guardian. Its presence spoke of standing firm through life’s storms.
The garden’s mystical aura seemed to have endured, waiting patiently for Mary’s return. She sensed this place might provide the healing she sought, if she took the time to nurture it.
Mary turned back to the house. Up in the attic, she recalled trunks filled with her grandmother’s odd trinkets. And wasn’t there a locked room said to be used for private rituals? The secrets this house held were still there, waiting to be uncovered. Mary felt a new spark of anticipation.
The first few days in the house were peaceful but lonely. Mary busied herself unpacking boxes and cleaning cobwebs, keeping her mind off the fact she was now completely on her own.
At night, the empty rooms and creaking floorboards reminded Mary this place needed more than just her presence to become a home again. She needed to imbue it with life once more.
On her third day, she drove into town and adopted a dog from the animal shelter. As she cradled the sleepy terrier mix in the passenger seat, Mary felt she had found her first friend in this new life.
Back at the house, the little dog awoke and immediately began exploring each room. Mary watched her sniff every corner and peer out every window with curious eyes.
Having a companion brought energy and laughter back into the long quiet rooms. The dog bounded about, sliding on the wood floors, investigate the fireplace ashes and curiously prodding Mary’s clutter of moving boxes.
In the evening, Mary sat on the creaky porch with the dog curled next to her. She breathed in the cool night air scented with pine and mulch. The stars emerged bright above the darkened woods.
With the dog snoring softly beside her, Mary felt the stresses of the past weeks finally leaving her body. She was exactly where she needed to be.
That night, Mary drifted off to sleep in the guest bedroom. As she slipped into dreams, the day’s activities replayed in surreal ways.
She wandered through the rooms of the house, except now they were filled with ghostly party guests dressed in odd, old-fashioned clothes. Her grandmother glided down the stairs to greet them, looking younger than Mary remembered.
“Welcome to the dreaming house,” her grandmother said with a twinkle in her eye. She took Mary’s arm and led her around the party, introducing her to the strange figures. Mary tried speaking to them, but their responses were muffled and nonsensical.
She woke feeling unsettled. The next night, the dreams returned. This time, Mary wandered the garden alone under a full moon. The flowers had been replaced with crystalline plants that chimed softly as she passed.
Her grandmother sat meditating beneath the old oak. “This place exists in many realms,” she told Mary. “It takes an open heart to see them.”
Over the next few days, the dreams continued. Mary came to realize the house was revealing its secrets to her in this symbolic way. She hoped if she nurtured her intuition, the veiled messages would become clear.
During waking hours, Mary also noticed odd occurrences – doors opening on their own, distant music late at night, shadows passing at the edge of her vision. The house was welcoming her into its hidden realms. She only needed to access the sight her grandmother possessed.
Mary knew this was part of her journey here. If she harnessed the power of dreams and imagination, the house would unlock its full potential. She simply needed to believe.
One morning, while exploring the attic, Mary came across a trunk that contained her grandmother’s old books. She opened the lid and sifted through the contents.
Inside were books on everything from gardening and cooking to philosophy and mythology. Her grandmother had been an avid reader and seeker of wisdom.
One book that caught Mary’s eye was a collection of the works of Plato. Her grandmother had filled the margins with handwritten notes and underlined key passages.
Another was a Victorian housekeeping guide, which made Mary chuckle as she tried to imagine her free-spirited grandmother following strict domestic advice.
She also found books on Western philosophy, Greek mythology, dream symbolism, and a handwritten journal describing some secret practices developed by her grandmother.
Her grandmother seemed to have been interested in understanding the deeper meanings behind reality.
Mary brought the books downstairs and stacked them on her nightstand. That evening, she lit candles in her bedroom and paged through her grandmother’s journal of secret practices. She felt somehow closer to her grandmother, seeing the world through her eyes.
Over the next few weeks, Mary pursued the books with interest. They provided a window into how her grandmother saw the world with such whimsy and wisdom. Reading them also awakened in Mary a desire to understand life’s mysteries for herself.
She began practicing the breathing exercises and meditation techniques described in her grandmother’s journal. They brought a new calm and clarity to her days in the quiet house. The books were like guides left behind to encourage Mary’s own self-discovery.
The more time Mary spent in the house, the more she noticed a sense of aliveness within its walls and gardens. It was as if the house itself had an energy or spirit uniquely its own.
She would feel sudden breezes brush past even on days when the air outside was still. The wind chimes hung in the garden would tinkle faintly with no discernible cause.
At night she would hear floorboards creak and settle, almost as if the house was getting comfortable for sleep alongside her. The lights even seemed to glow brighter when her mood was cheery, and dim when she felt afraid.
The garden also seemed to reflect her emotions – bright birds and butterflies would appear when she needed encouragement, plant leaves would droop when she felt sad, as if mirroring her state.
Mary came to think of these things as the house’s way of communicating. She imagined it as a wise old spirit, using subtle signs and symbols to indicate its moods and needs.
In return, she learned to care for the house intuitively based on its unique language. On damp days, she would light fires to warm and dry the air. On long sunny days, she opened all the windows to let fresh energy circulate.
Over time, Mary felt herself developing a relationship with the home, learning to read its signals and provide what it required. She appreciated this gentle companionship that made her feel less alone.
On a rainy afternoon, Mary decided to explore the old rooms she hadn’t visited since childhood. She wanted to uncover more about her grandmother’s life in this house.
In a dusty parlor, she found shelves filled with framed photos of wild birds – sparrows, finches, robins. Her grandmother had been an avid bird watcher and photographer, capturing the creatures that visited her feeders.
In the library, Mary was surprised to discover a collection of rare antique books on ornithology and bird species around the world. She smiled picturing her grandmother researching her feathered friends.
Down in the basement, Mary came across gardening tools, shelves of seed packets, journals containing notes on plant care. She never realized her grandmother had such an extensive garden and clear joy in cultivating it.
These discoveries painted a picture of how her grandmother had occupied her days – studying birds, planting bulbs and trim roses, capturing rare species on film around the property. It warmed Mary’s heart to uncover these gentle hobbies.
She imagined herself taking up these same activities, passing sunny days with birdsong as her soundtrack. She felt closer than ever to the woman who had lived a full, simple life within these very rooms.
Mary was starting to think of this place as home. She hoped to carry on her grandmother’s legacy of finding beauty and purpose in the natural world all around them. This house contained a lifetime of treasured memories Mary was only beginning to access.
The dreams began returning more vividly than ever before. Now, instead of fragmented symbols, Mary witnessed complete scenes from her grandmother's life unfold while she slept.
She saw her grandmother as a young woman, standing in the moonlit garden and collecting herbs by night. Whispering incantations over a bubbling pot inside the house. Embracing ethereal creatures who emerged from the woods - beings with wings and stars in their hair.
Mary realized with awe that her grandmother had some magical ability to communicate with fairies who inhabited the natural world around the home. The fairy realm and material world overlapped here, with the house as the bridge between.
When awake, Mary searched the rooms for artifacts from these dreams. In the attic she uncovered crystals, wands, and manuals on fairy lore tucked away in dusty corners. Her grandmother had indeed been a fairy who practiced real magic!
Or at least, mused Mary, her grandmother possessed the open heart and imagination of a fairy. She envisioned beauty and mysticism in the everyday.
This new knowledge felt comforting, like finding a lost part of herself reflected in her ancestry. Mary's own affinity for the supernatural now made sense - it was in her blood!
She spent many mornings sitting in the garden, yearning to see the shimmering forms that once gathered among the flowers. She hoped that one day, when she was ready, the fairy realms would reveal themselves to her as well.
For now, she thoroughly cleansed the house by burning sage, opening windows, and removing old clutter. She carefully nurtured the gifts left behind - kept crystals on the windowsills, learned the patterns of birds and bees. Small steps to pave the way into realms waiting to embrace her. Her grandmother had found magic in nature. Mary aimed to walk a similar path, opening her heart as she tended the soil.
Mary decided to take a walk in the woods surrounding the house. Sunlight filtered through the leaves as she followed a winding dirt path, breathing in the earthy forest air.
In a clearing, a flock of vibrant bluebirds circled overhead, weaving through the trees. They swooped gracefully around Mary before alighting on a branch to watch her pass. She smiled, seeing them as a sign of hope and joy after her long isolation.
Deeper into the forest, she sensed something more ominous. An eerie stillness fell over the woods. The birdsong faded. From the shadows, a coyote emerged, its eyes wary and fixed on Mary. It mirrored the anxiety she often felt about her new solitary life.
Just then, a gentle deer stepped into the light. Mary froze, meeting its serene gaze. Without fear, the deer moved closer, its presence reassuring. Mary saw it as a guide, encouraging her to have courage on this journey of renewal.
She turned back toward home, feeling the forest had shown her a glimpse of the forces within. Both light and dark, working in harmony to help her grow. She needed only listen to nature's symbolic messages.
As Mary emerged from the woods, her mood turned uneasy. She felt a shift in the energy around the house, a sense of foreboding she couldn't shake.
Had the darkness in the forest followed her home? No, she realized - it came from within. Her old doubts and pains were threatening to surface after being buried away for so long.
Mary tried meditation, burning sage, lighting candles to clear the air - but the darkness persisted, stronger than before. It crept up from deep inside her psyche that she had ignored for too long.
This journey was not only about lightness and joy, she now understood. There were wounds and demons within Mary herself that this house, with its openness and solitude, was drawing out into the light.
Mary oscillated between hope and fear about confronting her inner shadows. But she sensed the only way forward was through. Just as the deer had led her into the woods, she must allow her pain to guide her toward true healing.
With shaky determination, Mary decided to face the darkness gathering its strength within her. This entity was not external, but simply an ignored part of herself. To fully restore life and magic to this house, she first needed to shine light on her own damaged soul, restoring wholeness and peace inside.
It would not be easy. But in this space where dreams and reality converged, Mary knew she could find the wisdom and courage to transform even the darkest aspects of her being. The journey had only just begun.
Mary’s dreams and supernatural experiments grew more vivid and intense by the day. She pursued her grandmother’s mystical practices with fervor, feeling she was on the cusp of profound revelations.
The house itself seemed alive with otherworldly activities in response. Phantom breezes, disembodied whispers, objects shifting untouched – Mary calmly accepted each occurrence as confirmation she was unlocking the home’s dormant power.
Or perhaps, she considered, these events stemmed from her own psyche projecting onto the environment. In either case, forces beyond the material were making themselves known, mirroring Mary’s inner transformation.
The garden also changed, blooming with new colors and scents each morning. When Mary scattered her grandmother’s herb blend by moonlight, she awoke to find flowers unlike any earthly species. Their luminous petals shimmered with inner light – physical manifestations of Mary’s flowering mind.
The more possibilities she pursued, the more the house opened itself to her. But she was careful not to become egoically attached, seeing each vision as an ephemeral glimpse of truth, not an endpoint. More clues to direct her inward.
With each perceived otherworldly occurrence, Mary focused on staying grounded. She allowed her enhanced senses to heighten compassion, not feed inflation. Visions were received with grace, not clung to. The heaviness of past pains slowly lifting.
By opening to the mystical swirling around her, Mary harnessed currents flowing within. She still had far to go, but felt guided each step inward. What had begun as escape was becoming something more profound.
Mary realized that opening herself so fully also made her aware of inner turmoil. As her senses became attuned to subtle energies, she felt the influence of repressed hurts and traumas more potently.
There were areas of sadness and anger within Mary’s own psyche that wished to surface. Parts of herself she had tried to destroy or bury away rather than heal. This solitary journey was bringing it all to light.
Through studying her grandmother’s books, Mary taught herself simple ways like meditation, music, and journaling to help calm her spirit and propagate kindness within. She was careful to only use these practices for self-reflection and growth, not harm.
When overwhelming emotions arose from deep within, Mary visualized surrounding herself in spheres of light, allowing the feelings to transform. She used candles, poetry, and nature walks to uplift her vibration, integrating the shadow parts.
These spiritual practices continued more fervently each day, clearing the environment. But Mary knew true change came from within, by maintaining her own inner light. There was pain left to confront, but she was learning to welcome it on the path of wholeness.
This was all still so new for Mary. But she discovered inner resources she didn’t know she possessed. When wounds surfaced seeking care, Mary found she was able to hold them in love. She hoped her grandmother was proud.
Mary awoke one night to a great howling wind rattling the house. Trees lashed violently outside and thunder shook the walls. She sensed immediately this was no ordinary storm.
As she rushed to close shutters, a window burst open, extinguishing her candles. The temperature rapidly dropped until Mary could see her breath. There was a palpable feeling of malice invading her home.
This was the darkness she had felt growing and trying to break through. But never had it manifested with such ferocity. Mary knew tonight would be the ultimate test of the inner strength she had cultivated.
Calming her mind, Mary began doing marshal arts movements – punches, kicks, breathing deeply. She turned on peaceful music and retrieved her grandmother’s journals of wisdom. Lighting a single candle, she sat defiantly amidst the commotion.
The hostile energy battered her psyche, trying to instill fear and doubt. But Mary held firm, meeting it with light and faith in her own blossoming power. She had transformed so much already – this final shadow held no sway over her.
As Mary repeated her affirmations, the tumult gradually diminished until only stillness remained. In the silence, Mary smiled with hard-won solace. Her demons had been conquered at last. She was finally whole.
In the quiet stillness that followed, Mary sank into a meditative state. Her mind expanded, ephemeral walls dissolved, and she felt her consciousness merge with the house, the garden, the very earth.
Visions poured in, and suddenly she understood – her grandmother had not died, but rather ascended to a higher spiritual realm, leaving the house in Mary’s trust.
In luminous flashes, Mary saw her grandmother surrounded by bird-like guides, preparing to depart the material world after a long, rich life. Her work here was done. With joyful faith, she passed through a portal into the next stage of being.
Mary wept, feeling the presence of her grandmother embracing her across dimensions. The house was a tether anchoring Mary to this transcendent love. Her grandmother had moved on, but not disappeared.
With this insight, Mary’s own purpose became clear. She would steward this home, preserve its magical essence, and keep a candle lit to guide her grandmother’s spirit back when it sought communion. This was now her sacred duty.
The storm and darkness had been the final purge of Mary’s old fears. Now she was ready to take up the role of guardian and caretaker, for this special house and its lingering soul. She had reached the end of her beginning.
Morning sunlight streamed through the windows as Mary awoke, feeling strangely renewed. The tempestuous darkness of the night before had passed. She knew there would still be challenges ahead, but a weight had been lifted.
Descending the stairs, Mary ran her hand along the smooth banister. She paused to gaze out the window at the lush garden, the birds splashing in the birdbath fountain. This house was now truly her home, and she its devoted keeper.
She thought of her grandmother, so vibrant and lively within these walls. Her memory would continue to guide Mary on the path they now shared. She silently thanked her grandmother for igniting her journey.
Moving forward, Mary resolved to continue expanding her knowledge - studying her grandmother's books on gardening and housekeeping, finding magic in everyday moments. She would protect this house and its inherent beauty, keep it as a beacon of hope and joy.
The greatest challenges were those within, which Mary had conquered. What remained were trivial in comparison to the inner light she had found. She was ready for whatever lay ahead on this wondrous adventure. With open arms and heart, Mary embraced her destiny.
Time passed, and Mary settled happily into her role as the house’s guardian. She tended the garden daily, admiring how the once unruly grounds now thrived under her care. Vibrant flowers bloomed, birds sang in the fruit trees, and lush greenery added life to every corner.
When she needed guidance, Mary would sit quietly and imagine her grandmother’s gentle voice on the breeze. She honored her grandmother’s memory in all she did, feeling they were partners in caring for this sacred place.
The house became Mary’s sanctuary. Its walls embraced her, kept her grounded during turbulent times and lifted her up in times of joy. It was an extension of herself.
She understood now that the house represented the soul – ancient, complex, always revealing new rooms and secrets. The garden depicted the spirit – ever growing, renewed through care and attention. Her grandmother was her intuition – subtle, hovering near to guide but never overpower.
Together, they showed Mary the magic imbued in the everyday. The mystical hid beneath mundane appearances for those willing to see. Like the house, we must open ourselves to realize life’s latent potential.
In cultivating the garden, Mary learned to nurture seeds within and without. For in truth, the two were intertwined – the inner creating the outer, and the outer shaping the inner. This was the great lesson and blessing the house gave her.
From My novel "Mysterious inheritance " #fiction #literature #novel
