The Fabric of Us

"Dad, imagine if Mom was here eating with us," I said, picturing her at the table.

"Heh, she'd probably start scolding us, haha," Dad teased, making things lighter.

We ate in comfortable silence. When we finished, we cleanied up the table together—the clinking of plates and spoons filled the room. Once everything was tidied, I showed him the photo I had found, watching his eyes light up with curiosity.

"I'm not really sure which grandma this is. I haven't seen photos of them before—just heard their stories," Dad said when I asked.

"Do you remember anything about a woman with curly hair?" I pressed, really curious.

"Nope, nothing," he said. "Maybe tomorrow we'll visit your uncle, try asking him. He might know something," dad added. 

I nodded, feeling a mix of curiosity and excitement. Tomorrow felt like it was going to be a day full of stories. 

"Where did you find that photo, anyway? And why are you so curious about it?" Dad asked, already curious.

"In your room...I just feel like she's someone I know?" I am not sure myself either.

He just looked at me weirdly and shook his head.

I just tucked the photo carefully back in my jacket pocket. 

"Goodnight, Dad!" We are standing in front of his room.

"You also have a goodnight sleep, Leonora," Dad kissed me on the forehead, and he walked inside his room.

I just made sure that he's comfortable, and I went upstairs rightafter. 

"Leonora...Leo" The faint sound woked me. 

I didn't even realize I had fallen asleep—probably from exhaustion.

"Nora," I heard that soft voice calling again. It's a woman's voice for sure.

I froze on my bed. I'm not really scared of ghosts, but hearing that voice every day? I don't know if I could handle that.

I tried to shake the thought away and convinced myself it was just my imagination. I didn't want to scare myself out because if I got too scared, I wouldn't be able to sleep or stay in this house for long.

I tried going back to sleep but couldn't. Since my mind is now wide awake, I looked for something to do. I went downstairs and saw the time—it was already midnight.

The house was dimly-lit adding to the creepy vibes, especially at this hour, with all those weird noises. But even with all that scary stuff, the house still give that kind of cozy and safe feeling—like a real home.

I'd only been here for less than a day, but it felt like I had been living here forever.

Downstairs, I headed back to the small study at the end of the hallway. I walked slowly down the dimly-lit hallway.

My footsteps made soft creaks because the floorboards support my wight were really old.

Before I went into the room, I peeked in on Dad to check if he was sleeping soundly—good thing, he was peacefully asleep.

I quietly shut the door, which creaked a little because of how old the door is.

I went straight to the study. I figred it was probably the study of the family patriarch from previous generations, cause who else would have their own study in that time but a male individual.

I gently turned the door knob to enter the room: I fumed along the wall searching for the light switch. When I turned it on, the room once again piqued my interest—there's something I couldn't explain.

I planned to look for a book to read but ended up looking around, checking out the furniture and the other belongings inside.

I ran my fingers over the furniture, tracing the intricately carved patters. They were done with care and skilled craftsmanship—it was just amazing.

I admired the craftsmanship of every piece of furniture in the room. But I was even more impressed by the room's owner because, judging by the books—even with damaged spines—you could tell they had been used and cared for carefully.

I ran my hand over each piece of furniture, tracing the intricately carved patterns.

Like when I first saw the table, there were many old letters scattered on its surface.

But more than the furniture, I was even more impressed by the owner because judging by the books, even though their spines were falling apart, you could tell they were well used and cared for.

Just like the first time I saw the table, there were lots of old letters scattered all over it.

"What are these are for?" I whispered to myself, checking the papers scattered on the table.

I was about to pick up one of the letters to read properly when I was startled by something falling near the bookshelf, so I looked that way.

I looked over but didn't see anything on the floor.

Fear crept over me again. "Am I really being haunted or what?" I asked myself, scared.

I couldn't take the creepiness anymore, so I quickly started heading toward the door to get out of there. But then I heard the woman's voice again which made me stop.

"Nora…" she called softly.

"Who are you?" I asked, trying to sound brave as I looked—searching for where the voice came from.

But there was only silence.

"What do you want from me?" I added, doing my best to calm myself even though I was really starting to freak out.

Still, no answer. No matter how much I tried to convince and tell myself it was just my imagination, I knew what I heard was real.

I was already standing at the doorway, so I just quickly turned off the light and closed the door.

I made my way back to my room immediately but careful not to make a sound.

This time, as I lay down, I fell asleep immediately. Though there was fear pressing on my chest, the exhaustion from moving the whole day took over.

My body just needed to rest; so, despite the anxiety lingering in my mind, sleep felt like a nice escape from everything. Tomorrow's gonna be a new challenge, but for mow, I just let myself surrender to the much-needed rest—for recharge.