Only Their Eyes Moved

Several weeks ago, I had a dream that stood out upon waking.  After several days of sharing it with friends and family, it abruptly vanished from my thoughts.  Until last night.  While laying in bed trying to hunt down this much heard of thing called "sleep", I experienced a vivid flashback of the entire dream.  It fits the criteria of the stories I love to tell, so at this time, I will share it with you.  Enjoy....

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I was walking through a suburban neighborhood.  The paint on the houses was perfect and color-coordinated, the lawns impeccably manicured, the sky a flawless robin's egg blue and not a cloud in the sky.  Perfect....eerily perfect.  My feet take me over to a new subdivision called Haunted Debutante.  I'm intrigued.

The second I step onto the property, the sky rolls with thunderheads that writhe, but remain silent.  Everything is silent, not even a sprinkler or a bird chirping.  Some of the houses look like they were from the turn of the 20th century, some even older.  Plantation style houses, one after the other.  On each lawn there was some variety of an "open house" sign.  There were beautiful magnolia trees growing in every front lawn with graceful, marble benches that rested beneath them. 

I approached the first house that had a mailbox at the front.  The mailbox had "Annabelle's Ache" painted on it.  The front porch is wide and deep with a swing that swung gently, back and forth.  The front door is open and I walk inside to find a stunning foyer.  I'm surprised to see a cluster of three women in antebellum dress sitting in the front parlor.  They did not show any sign of seeing me.  I go into the parlor, fascinated.  They are all sitting in polished wooden chairs with cushions.  None of them moved.  All three hold their fans to cover their mouths.  At once, all three pairs of eyes turn their focus to me.  Not a murmur, twitch, breath or blink.  They regarded me with their eyes for a few moments, then changed their gaze to the foyer.  I'm horrified, but unable to stop searching.  I move on to the next house.

On the lawn of the house next door there is a painted sign which reads "Quiet Shame".  Underneath an apple tree, next to the sign, there are two girls holding dolls.  Neither child moves, but I feel their eyes on me.   The front porch has a old rocking chair that moves gently back and forth.  The door to the foyer is open, but the foyer and front parlor are empty.  I moved further into the house.  I find a grand banquet hall and a dining table filled with people, every one wearing turn of the century southern dress.  The host of the banquet is standing frozen with his glass raised, about to make a toast.  The rest of the guests have their glasses raised.  All eyes turn to me.  Not a single bodily movement.  This time their eyes stay on me and I feel that I have intruded.

Every house is like this. Women in a kitchen, a young girl sitting at a vanity holding a mirror, men playing cards, a dance hall filled with couples waltzing.  No movement in any place.  Only their eyes moved, watching me enter their silent, still world and watching me leave. 

Every one of them has skin the color of ashes. 

I don't understand how these people could be alive and dead at the same time.  Alive, but not breathing or even blinking.  The only movement is in the staring eyes.  Their stares were so heavy and accusing.  I remember running away, certain that at any moment, these wraiths of silence would spring to life and drag me into one of their homes, turning my skin to ash and forever making me a Haunted Debutante.  Just before an icy, gray hand can grab my shoulder, I wake up. 

I am quite certain that I will not be forgetting this dream again.

Sweet dreams.

Until next time,

~Story Siren