Creepy Stories: The Bardo
Hi friends,
Here is a creepy little story to begin the week.
Thank you for being here with me!
Love & Roses,
Dorothea🌹
The Bardo
The abandoned room stood in the passageway of the old barn house.
The color of its walls was a sullen yellow. Something like the color of an old egg yolk. At some point it might have been sunny, but the years had added so much grey.
So too the room itself could have been sunny, but there was always a greyness there.
There were four windows in the room, two on either side, each of approximately good size. One of the walls contained a door out to the room where the wood was kept. The other door led to the rest of the house.
There was a couch, soft and dark navy blue. It was almost the size of the whole room. And a TV, which no one watched. And a fireplace which could be lit up by a switch.
On the wall next to the TV, there were two small doors that did not open. They had been painted shut eighty years ago with thick slabs of the grey egg yolk color. No one knew anymore what was inside of them.
To the left of the doors were some open shelves. On one shelf an image of a woman had been placed in a silver frame. On another shelf, there were two ceramic blue swans, just sitting there.
They could have been candlestick holders, but they weren’t. They could have been anything. Instead they just sat there.
Chelsea had always gone through the room on her way to somewhere. It was what it seemed to be for. A passageway.
When she was little she’d twirl in her pink skirts as she danced through it, on her way to play outside. As a teenager, she’d fix her face in there.
I often sat in that room in my thick black chair in the corner and watched her. Sometimes I would get a little envious.
Once I had used that room, too. I’d sit cross-legged in the center of the room and wait for my mother to get dressed so she could walk me to elementary school.
In high school, I would wait in there for my dates. They’d enter that sullen yellow room and see me. I lit that room up.
Now I just sit in my black chair and wait for death to arrive. Sometimes, in the early afternoon, the door that leads to the outer room with the firewood slightly opens.