Autobiography of a house
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I am called Crawford. I remember when I came to being, when my foundation was set, and the Missus first stepped on my base boards. There was joy in her heart, and that joy filled me. Every brick laid, every piece of timber held her excitement and anticipation. Although the Master was technically the one that made me, I was created only with the Missus in mind. I was supposed to be her dream home, the place where she would raise their family, and live out their days. Even the property that it was set on was perfect. There was a lake some distance behind me, and a grove to my eastern fields. Grass grew everywhere, and wildflowers sprung up without provocation. I remember the way the little Miss shrieked with happiness, even before I was completely up and livable. Even now, I can't quite tell you how many days it took, but I knew that with every one, I was getting closer to having my family inside me.
When I was finally complete, and all my furniture was in place, I stood up straight, tall, and proud. I was finally to be everything I was destined to. Missus cried as she looked around, and little Miss ran through my hallways, although her nanny told her not to. I tried to do my best to look strong when the Master came in. As he walked up my stairs, I made sure not to creak; as he touched my wooden walls, I radiated warmth. I wanted to make sure he knew that I would protect his family and keep them safe.
Everything was beautiful inside me. The little one would run around, sneak down into the depths of my cellars and lay on the cold dark earth. I kept her secrets, and kept her fiery young skin cool. The Master and Missus, when they were together in the house, spent many a moment in each others embrace. I tried my best not to giggle as they made love in all of my different rooms. I also did my best to keep my floors steady each time the Missus was pregnant, and make my as easy on her feet as possible. She had many children, beautiful children that filled me with laughter and more joy. I loved sharing their growth, feeling their first pattering steps across my floors, feeling them eat in my kitchen, warm themselves at my fire, play with their pets. They grew inside me, and always called me home.
Until the Missus began to change; as the children grew up, the Missus grew sad. I did my best to keep her happy. Her feet never walked on cold floors unless it was warm outside and her feet needed it, when she cried, I absorbed her tears. Sometimes she wouldn't move, and I thought it was she that was the inanimate object, and I the sentinent being. The Master didn't know how sad she was, but I did. I never thought she was sad enough to hang herself in my drawing room. There was nothing I could do but feel her life force end, her sadness leaving and absorbing into me. The children and the Master felt the imprint of her pain the moment they walked in. The servant woman prayed softly to herself when she entered, and then almost passed out when she found the Missus.