The House at the End of the World

I woke up a few minutes before my alarm and proceeded to get ready. A light breakfast was all I needed this morning. As I slipped on my shoes, I opened the door and peeked outside to check the weather: raining. I best take my umbrella.

I exited the train station and took a moment to survey the area. Since the time I had left home, the rain was more eager now, falling forcefully on my umbrella. The area had that fresh rain smell. I noticed a few cats in the streets running in and out of cover—one of the cats even had a salamander in its jaws. Of the houses in the vicinity, they were worse for wear with uncontrolled vegetation.

After moments of walking through the rain I arrived at my destination. It looked like the photos I had seen, but not quite. Had the owner used a filter? Maybe he was quite deliberate with his angles because the house was underwhelming. The garden was overgrown with weeds and the property looked to be in disarray, shabby.

I noticed a sign next to the walkway indicating that this was the open house. I guessed that I was the first one there since I didn’t see a anyone around, though I had half expected to see someone. They’re probably waiting for the weather to pass.

I approached the front entrance when I noticed a sign on the door:

I’ve run off to get some things

Back in 5

- Heinrich

Was he telling me to wait? How long ago was five minutes? I walked back and looked up and down the street and didn’t see anyone approaching. The sign said he’ll be back in five minutes, but it doesn’t say not to enter, so by my logic it’ll be fine if I let myself in to get out of the rain. I’m sure he’ll understand.

As I entered the house I said,“Pardon me,” to the absent owner.

Inside the house I was greeted with yet another sign in the mudroom that said:

Feel free to look around

Please remove shoes or

use the shoe-slippers provided

- Heinrich

Funny, he expected people to enter after all. I was too lazy to take off my shoes, so I slid my into one of the pairs of large felt shoe-slippers, and ventured deeper into the house.

It was well lit given the large windows, but the interior had a musky smell that time wasn’t sure how to handle. The walls were sturdy and coarse, but cold, almost damp. The house had traditional flooring that creaked with each step I took, reminding me of the home my grandparents had. I bent down and wrapped my knuckle against the floor to test if it was as sturdy as the walls.

The house looked fine, there was nothing egregious that stood out to me, save for the lack of furniture (looks like I wouldn’t be getting that furnished TV), and the kitchen and washroom looked modern. All that was left was to check upstairs.

Creeeeeeak

An icy wave enveloped me as my hair stood on its ends. I froze. Was there someone else here? The sound came from above. I must have not noticed the visitor earlier. I called out but got no response.

Craaaaaack

Time to leave.

I turned around and headed for the entrance when I heard small but heavy footsteps descending the stairs. I whipped around to see a small furry creature.

It was a tabby cat. The ice in my blood began to thaw.

“Oh, hello, kitty.”

She must have been too proud for she didn’t answer me.

Clunk

At this moment, I was glad that my only companion was a cat, and that no one was here to see my embarrassment. Old wooden houses tended to make those sounds when the wood expands and contracts.

“Will you give me a tour of the house?” I asked the cat as I bent down and held out my hand to pet her.

Again she didn’t answer, choosing to wander off instead. I gave a small shrug. Perhaps it was for the best I didn’t pet her: my hands were clammy from that earlier scare. I went up to the second floor where I found another washroom as well as three rooms, all empty.

“Well, it’s spacious. Perhaps a little too spacious for one person.”

I could get a roommate or if I had a—no, I didn’t want to think about that. It might be difficult to convince someone to live all the way out here, and the thought of sharing a house with a stranger would only lead to trouble down the line. The more I thought about it, the less appealing this place became.

The backyard was all that remained on the self-guided tour. The owner mentioned in his description that there was a hiking trail just past the back entrance. I made my way to the back door and left the shoe-slippers there. When I stepped outside I noticed two things.

I first noticed that the rain had lessened up, which was good since I had left my umbrella at the front entrance. Holding out my hand to test the rain, I decided it was raining lightly enough that a quick stroll wouldn’t kill me.

The second thing I noticed was the backyard itself, or the absence of where it began and the forest started. It was worse than I imagined. The front garden had looked a bit unused, but here there was total chaos as vines and thickets had invaded every nook and cranny. It was less a backyard demarcated by fences and more a wild forest reclaimed by the elements.

As I walked through the jungle of abandonment, I saw an open-pit grill, though just barely was I able to make it out. I moved some of the overgrown vines aside to get a better look. There were trace amounts of ash left at the bottom from the last time it was used—whenever that was. I poked the ash pile with my fingers; strangely, it was still warm.

I walked through the rest of the backyard and found a small patch of ground that was once used as a garden, marked with rotten-trellises and dry soil despite the rain. Located at the very rear of the backyard, next to the gate, was an empty derelict water fountain basin covered with vines so numerous you’d miss it if you weren’t looking carefully. Another strange curiosity.

Now the exit gate stood before me, and beyond the gate was the forest path. Further beyond it, through the forest, was a clearing—a golden clearing—in the distance where I could see a rainbow. It was close, so close I could touch it. I opened the gate and made my towards it. The tabby cat jumped out from the forest and circled around me once before walking abreast with me as the two of us made our way to the rainbow.

The rainbow wasn’t far; I’d reach it in the next few moments. Excitement coursed through me as I broke out into a run, anxious to reach the rainbow. Steady, unmoving, the rainbow remained still in the golden clearing. I reached the edge of the clearing and caught my breath. I looked around and the tabby was gone. Where did she go? No, never mind the cat, where did the rainbow go? It wasn’t visible up close, but I was sure it was here.

Stepping into the clearing, I shielded my eyes as the sun’s warm aura embraced me. The world began to spin and my head felt light.

“Ergh!”

The sun’s rays intensified and soon I could no longer see. A world of white surrounded me and the dizzying sensation spread to the rest of my body as if carrying me off with the wind.

When I could finally open my eyes again I was standing in the same spot as before, but the forest was different. It was brighter, more vibrant, and more colourful. The forest floor, the leaves, and the tree trunks radiated tangible colour. I lay down and began to feel the grass against my body. It was nice; relaxing; soothing.

“Glad I am to know that you enjoy our world,” said a woman’s voice.

I shot up. “Who’s there?” I looked around but didn’t see anyone.

“I am below you, human. Look down,” said the voice again.

I looked down and looking back at me was the tabby cat.

“Did… this cat just talk? This must be a prank.”

What was going on? Did I walk into a forest that makes you hallucinate? A woman must be throwing her voice from behind a tree.

“Indeed. In this world I have the ability of speech that you can comprehend,” said the cat.

None of this made any sense. I needed to find the ventriloquist. I started running around the forest looking behind trees.

“Stop!” commanded the cat.

 An invisible force brought me down, tripping me over my own two left feet. The tabby cat dutifully walked over and pressed her paw to my forehead in a calm motion.

“The hour is nigh. Follow me, for we have a great many things must be done. Tell me your name, human.”

My thoughts jumped all over the place. Comprehension leaked out my left ear, and reason: my right. I was a creature of instinct.

“F-Ferdinand B-Bernhaas.”

“Ferdinand Bernhaas are to be wed to the High Priestess of the Undines. Follow me.”

“Whaaaa—!?”