The creaking of the stairway made me startle, but the young man just stared at me blankly.

“So you’ve never heard anything unusual going on in this place? No sounds at night or anything?” I asked, shifting my weight, which made the floorboards creak.

“The last boss didn’t pay me to work nightshift.” He replied dryly. When I’d first met the boy—or at least I thought he was a boy—he seemed a bit odd, but not this odd. His sunken eyes, paste white skin and death stare could put you on edge in an instant, yet his slow, shaky movements made you think he was decrepit. He seemed to have aged in the past few days, many depressing years.

“Did you ever think the creaking of the stairs was odd?” I glanced at the black cherry stairs. Despite the nice wood, they were old and it showed.

“The stairs creak?” His voice was without emotion. I just stared at him. The stairs creaked all the time. They creaked worse under the weight of a body or animal but they would creak on their own as well. You couldn’t walk into the room without the stairs creaking. He did nothing but stared back, unaffected, unmoving, unemotional blank stare.

“Uh, I’m going to go, uh, see what Lella is doing…” I spoke awkwardly, sidestepping out of his view and down a short, wide hallway into the Kitchen. I shivered before approaching the kitchen from the dining room. I half screamed when the sound of plates, bowls, pans, silverware and anything else that would make a loud noise when hitting a hard floor suddenly pounded my ears. I peeked in to see Lella laughing at herself and going about making lunch, skipping over the pans and stepping on pieces of broken plated. I wondered how thick her shoes were, but then she stopped and looked at me.

“Hella dear, ‘ave you come fo’ you luncheon?” She smiled sweetly. Her hearty, rough voice did not match the delicate features of her face and body, but I never mentioned it to anyone. It was just another quirk of the place.

“Uh no, I’m not hungry yet. Besides it looks as though you’re busy—”

“No sense! No sense! No sense a’ all you ‘ave. Al’ough Myss’i dear wan’ see you afo’ you luncheon.” She spoke quickly, so it was difficult to understand what she was saying.

“Uhm, who wants to see me?” I replied shyly. Lella always made me feel inadequate somehow.

“Myss’i, dear ‘as a loo’in fo’ you.” She smiled again as if I’d just complimented her, even though I hadn’t. I nodded and slipped out the other side of the kitchen into the back yard. Myssti was usually playing in some old rusty cars in the back.

“I was looking for you.” Myssti popped up from behind a steering wheel. “Did Lella tell you to come find me?”

“Yes she did, although not very clearly.” For some reason this odd child was the most normal of everyone around the place.

“Well yes, that’s Lella for you. Always speaking funny and a new accent a day.” She nodded as if it was perfectly normal that Lella switched accents daily and so far I’d never heard her repeat one.

“The people around here seem a bit odd, don’t you think?” I asked Myssti.

“Well of course, that’s why they’re here. They don’t fit anywhere else.” She pulled herself out of the rusty old car she was sitting in and stood next to it at half my height. Despite me being there a few days, I’d only ever spoken to Myssti briefly in past times.

“What do you mean they don’t fit anywhere else?”

“Well, Eddie doesn’t have a conscious and Lella has too many souls. Frank never hurt anyone but himself and Jillian is just an empty shell. No soul to raise or condemn. But those are the only ones with flesh, the rest of the souls are many but various and really I don’t feel like going through them all before luncheon.” She started walking toward the kitchen.

“Wha—What? What does that mean?” I stuttered a bit in surprise.

“Don’t worry, you’ll learn soon enough. Everyone does. Except those who are here. They never learned, which is why they are still here.”



Comment/critique or just tell me what you think. This started as a writing prompt from a creative writing place for practicing. I don't think I'm planning to make this story too long, maybe just a couple pages at best but let me know what you think.

Personally, I don't like it when stories have informalities in them. Such as using "you", I feel it makes the story less professional and almost colloquial.

Also, the lady's accent is really really hard to understand. I had to read through her dialogue a couple times before guessing the words. (or maybe I just suck at it).

Personally, I don't like it when stories have informalities in them. Such as using "you", I feel it makes the story less professional and almost colloquial.

Also, the lady's accent is really really hard to understand. I had to read through her dialogue a couple times before guessing the words. (or maybe I just suck at it).

She's supposed to be difficult to understand. That's kind of the point.

Originally Posted by Hayzel

She's supposed to be difficult to understand. That's kind of the point.

I liked it I understood it perfectly and people can't help but use "you" because people have different types of writting.

Writing speech like that is always a double edge sword and generally has a love or hate reaction to it. Especially when it is fairly hard to read and work out.

I'm back and forth on the whole process myself. For the most part, I'd rather just have it said that it's a heavy Scottish accent than see it broken up in the actual dialogue. It makes it easier to read as a whole and keeps a better flow. Of course, this is completely my opinion on the matter.

That being said, I can fully understand the want and need to write out where the breaks are in the speech of the person. It means there's no real question as to what exactly the speech would sound like because if someone said exactly that to you, you'd still be tilting your head going, "Say that again please?" or working exactly what she said out in your head.

Story wise, it mainly leaves me curious for more and to see where you'll take it.