The Avondale Avenue mansion where this true story began.
The Visitor
when I was 21
I lived in a commune known as the Pipe Factory
a turn-of-the-century mansion reclaimed
by two wealthy, eccentric brothers
each day they brought it back to life
restoring its magical presence
the house filled with noisy celebration
college students, lovers, artists, musicians
free thinkers, sexual explorers
young people finding themselves
in the house's shadowy secrets
it was my first place to live on my own
my grandmother gave me her squeaky cot
its lumpy, small mattress more for a child
I placed it alongside my aquarium
in the elegant 2nd floor bedroom
with its round tower and Rookwood-tiled fireplace
the dancing fish lured me to sleep
but one evening
I lay wide awake
listening to pot-induced conversation
outside my door
when the visitor first came to me
I felt a weight over my entire body
blankets pulled tightly around me
pushing me down into the cot
its springs screeching
my wild eyes searching
why is there nothing there?
unable to move
a small word leaked from my mouth... “stop!”
it did, only to lay upon me seconds later
penetrating my soul
pulling me deep
into a sinking chill
helpless
a few years later
in a different place
when I thought
I left the mansion's ghosts behind
it came again
crushing me into the double bed
overwhelming my reality
forcing its frozen hold
my mind racing as fast as my heart
every so often
the visitor would come
no matter where I lived
shaking bones
to my core
impotent against the unseen thing
even when I was 8 months pregnant
it came
my heart climbed into my cracked throat
my baby kicked as if he could escape
pushing against the invisible
it made itself known
through the years
why? to check on me?
to make sure it still had power?
consuming my weakness
sharpening my fear
nearly 10 years ago
the sheets began to compress
it was the visitor
while my partner slept
seeming miles away
I unable to stir
but in a that small space between moments
curiosity replaced fear
I let go
beyond comprehension
a warmth filled me so completely,
a love so deep, so primal, so comforting
like being wrapped in the divine wings of golden light
a familiar connection
I wanted to last
but fell peaceful into sleep's gentle arms
the visitor never came again
I lived in a commune known as the Pipe Factory
a turn-of-the-century mansion reclaimed
by two wealthy, eccentric brothers
each day they brought it back to life
restoring its magical presence
the house filled with noisy celebration
college students, lovers, artists, musicians
free thinkers, sexual explorers
young people finding themselves
in the house's shadowy secrets
it was my first place to live on my own
my grandmother gave me her squeaky cot
its lumpy, small mattress more for a child
I placed it alongside my aquarium
in the elegant 2nd floor bedroom
with its round tower and Rookwood-tiled fireplace
the dancing fish lured me to sleep
but one evening
I lay wide awake
listening to pot-induced conversation
outside my door
when the visitor first came to me
I felt a weight over my entire body
blankets pulled tightly around me
pushing me down into the cot
its springs screeching
my wild eyes searching
why is there nothing there?
unable to move
a small word leaked from my mouth... “stop!”
it did, only to lay upon me seconds later
penetrating my soul
pulling me deep
into a sinking chill
helpless
a few years later
in a different place
when I thought
I left the mansion's ghosts behind
it came again
crushing me into the double bed
overwhelming my reality
forcing its frozen hold
my mind racing as fast as my heart
every so often
the visitor would come
no matter where I lived
shaking bones
to my core
impotent against the unseen thing
even when I was 8 months pregnant
it came
my heart climbed into my cracked throat
my baby kicked as if he could escape
pushing against the invisible
it made itself known
through the years
why? to check on me?
to make sure it still had power?
consuming my weakness
sharpening my fear
nearly 10 years ago
the sheets began to compress
it was the visitor
while my partner slept
seeming miles away
I unable to stir
but in a that small space between moments
curiosity replaced fear
I let go
beyond comprehension
a warmth filled me so completely,
a love so deep, so primal, so comforting
like being wrapped in the divine wings of golden light
a familiar connection
I wanted to last
but fell peaceful into sleep's gentle arms
the visitor never came again
Goldenglow Moth, Howard Lynn
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