Home, Sweet Home
Guidry growled in annoyance as he poked at the keys on the infernal electronic box sitting on his desk. He was trying... really trying... to make things work out in a modern world. When he lived his rather checkered life, things were not so technically complicated. Radio and automobiles were new and the high point of technology, but most things were still done in a much simpler way. What ever happened to books? Now, they had computers, and if a being wanted to know anything at all... like how to perform major home repairs... one had to know how to navigate this new environment.
Guidry sighed as the glowing image on the screen went blank, yet again. His house was falling apart around him, and his only source of home repair information had just punked out. And, it wasn't just the daily annoyances that were getting him down. The Guidry-Albert plan got kicked back to a committee for review and they now had no idea how long it would be before it was approved for consideration in the Assembly. Cemeteries, abandoned warehouses and dilapidated houses just seemed to be their lot. And no one seemed to care.
His frustration was interrupted by a knock at the door, and he was happy to see his friend, Morgyn Ember, standing on his front stoop. A visit with one of his best friends on a cold winter's evening would be a welcome reprieve from the frustrations of an old-fashioned ghost thrust into modern living.
Guidry welcomed Morgyn into his shabby little home with the slight sense of embarrassment that he always felt at his current status. In life, he was from a well-to-do family. The Duplantiers were well known, and even though his mother had married into the less favored Guidry family, Claude Rene was able to maintain the lifestyle of a socialite adventurer. He traveled and lived well, collecting things from around the globe and surrounding himself with them in the comfortable home his mother left him.
Eventually, the Duplantiers became estranged from him and cut off their money, but he was still able to live well on his wit and charm. His adventurous spirit led him to work a variety of jobs in a diversity of locales, and even though he was a little less “flush,” as they used to say, he was still comfortable. These days, however, he was finding the truth of the saying “You can't take it with you.” He often joked by telling people he was now “dead broke,” but really, it wasn't that funny.
“What's going on?” Morgyn asked, his tone leading.
Morgyn was an astute Mage, and Guidry often found it a bit disconcerting how quickly he was able to tune in to the moods and personality quirks of those he met.
“Nothing. Really, nothing. Just trying to figure out how to fix this old fixer-upper I am privileged to live in.” Guidry wasn't so much bitter as regretful. The contrast between his two lives was pretty evident to him right now.
“Is that all?” Morgyn said, cheerfully. “Just tell me what needs to be done. You're looking at the master of The Repairio spell, my friend. Oh, and here's a pro tip: stop 'possessing' your possessions and they'll last longer.”
Guidry shook his head. “I need more than small repairs or flippant 'advice' Morgyn,” he said, his tone uncharacteristically gruff. “I need help. Ongoing help or a house that doesn't fall apart at the slightest breeze. Preferably, both. It's easy for you. You wave your hand and things are repaired. You live in a nice home without holes in the walls or cracks in the foundations. I used to have that, and I took that for granted. I don't have that any more.”
As he spoke, there was a crash as two pictures in the kitchen fell off the wall.
Guidry sighed heavily. “This is why we need better representation, Morgyn. It's demoralizing to exist this way. We may not need all of these things in our current state, but we still remember what it was like before.”
Morgyn nodded. “I see. We'll do what we can when the Assembly meets, Guidry. But, in the meantime, what do you suggest we do here?”
Guidry thought for a moment. “Well, I can't change the house. But I can change the help. Come on!”
With a burst of energy, Guidry rushed into his bedroom and rummaged in the nightstand drawer. Finding a small piece of chalk, he sat down in the floor and began drawing a circle.
“What are you doing?” Morgyn asked, cautiously, as he sat down on the bed.
“Requesting assistance.”
Morgyn sighed and rolled his eyes. “I hope you know what you're doing.”
“Oh, don't worry,” Guidry commented. “I'm just calling an old friend... the old-fashioned way.”
Morgyn watched as Guidry sat down on the floor beside the chalk circle and began to chant. The circle began to glow with an eerie flame, building in intensity until, suddenly, there was a flash of light, and a figure emerged from the smoke.
“Boney!” Guidry exclaimed as he jumped to his feet.
“Claude Rene. You little devil! It's been ages!”
Morgyn wasn't sure what to expect from Guidry's magic trick, but the appearance of a skeleton dressed in a maid's uniform was not high on the list.
“One of your exes?” he asked.
“Well, that's rude,” the newcomer replied.
“And highly inappropriate,” Guidry added. “What do you take me for?”
Morgyn shook his head. “I never know.”
Guidry made a suave gesture with his hand. “Mage Ember, allow me to introduce Bonehilda, the best housekeeper who ever worked for the Duplantier family. Boney, this is Morgyn Ember.”
Bonehilda crossed her arms across her chest and looked Morgyn up and down with what would have been a judgmental stare coming from anyone else.
“Is he a friend of yours?” she asked Guidry.
“Oh yes,” Guidry replied. “A very good friend.”
“Hmmm,” she muttered. “We'll see. We will see.” Morgyn felt a sense of relief when she finally broke her stare. “So. Let's get to work. This place won't fix itself.”
As the two followed Bonehilda out of the bedroom, Guidry lowered his voice in a confidential whisper.
“She's a little protective. But it's okay.”
“Has she always been...” Morgyn grimaced.
“No! No, she was cursed by a voodoo queen. But she still looks out for me.”
As Bonehilda scrubbed the bathroom, Morgyn and Guidry settled down in the kitchen for a snack. It wasn't long before Morgyn's attempts at a bit of gourmet cooking were interrupted by Bonehilda's feverish cleaning.
“Isn't she great?” Guidry enthused.
“Yeah. Does she come with an off switch?”
Morgyn found his backside suddenly stinging from a snap from Bonehilda's cleaning cloth.
“Don't get smarty pants with me, Mister Mage,” the housekeeper warned, shaking a bony finger in Morgyn's face. “And mind your manners!”
Grumbling, Morgyn grabbed his plate of pasta and adjourned to the living room to watch TV while Guidry and Bonehilda caught up.
“It's so good to see you, Boney,” Guidry said, softly. “I've missed you.”
“All you have to do is call, young man.”
“I know. You've always been there for me.”
“And I always will be. How are you holding up?”
“Me? Fine, I guess. I have a place to live, and things are definitely better here, in The Myst.”
“But?”
“But... I miss home. My real home. My life.”
Bonehilda leaned forward and gave Guidry a long look. “Nothing can change the past, young squire. The question is, what are you going to do with the present?”
Before Guidry could answer, the maid stood up quickly and grabbed her cleaning cloth. “But, enough of that nonsense. Let's get this place cleaned up.”
Bonehilda cleaned the house top to bottom, and even though she couldn't repair its run-down condition, when she finished, the place was spotless. Not a cobweb survived her broom, and you could eat off the floor. It was definitely a vast improvement.
“I suppose it's time,” she commented, as she surveyed her work.
Guidry nodded. “It's been nice seeing you again,' he said, with a faint smile.
“Call any time you need me.” Bonehilda nodded. “Any time.” Then, with a wave of her hand and a blown kiss to Guidry, she disappeared just as quickly as she arrived.
Guidry found Morgyn holed up in the bedroom fidgeting with some modeling clay he found in the nightstand.
“Is she gone?” he asked.
Guidry laughed. “You're not afraid of her, are you?”
“Afraid, no. Unnerved, yes. She smacked me with a towel.”
Guidry smiled, wistfully. “I know she can be a bit bossy. But I had a life once, Morgyn. She's all that's left of it.”
A few weeks later, Guidry was contemplating how he was going to spend this day. New Years Day is usually a time of letting go of the past while embracing the future, but Guidry felt stuck in a rut. The promise of the recent months seemed to have settled into stagnation and he wasn't sure things were going to get any better, soon. As he sat on his sofa watching the celebratory preparations on TV, his phone chimed. He was surprised at how much of modern technology he was actually embracing these days.
It was a text from Morgyn requesting to meet him at a certain location in Mooncrest. Having nothing better to do, Guidry bundled up in an unnecessary coat and scarf and made his way to the address.
Upon setting eyes on the house, he knew it. He knew every board and every creak of every door and gate. He knew the color, and the smell and the way the wind sounded when it whistled through the eaves. And he also knew this was impossible. This house should not be here. This house belonged in Willow Creek. And, this house had not looked this way in almost 100 years. Not only did it look exactly as it had in Guidry's youth, but someone had even decorated it for the holiday.
Guidry was cautiously looking around the grounds when a familiar flash from the front porch alerted him to Morgyn's arrival. He joined him there, nervous, his voice quavering as he searched his friend's face.
“What's going on, Morgyn?”
“Oh, just a little New Year's celebration. With a new start for a friend.” Morgyn gestured. At the wave of his hand, the door opened before them and Guidry hesitantly stepped in.
It was all there. All of it. Every piece of furniture, every painting, every vase. Exactly the way he remembered it.
“How?” he asked, astonished.
Morgyn shrugged. “Well, you turned down my repair offers, but I'm also the master of The Duplicato spell. And what use is magic if you can't use it to benefit a friend.”
“So, is it... mine?” Guidry asked, unbelieving.
Morgyn blinked. “Well, yes. I really don't have much need for it.”
Guidry was unsure if he was able to cry, but at this moment he really wanted to. He immediately began searching the house, taking in every floor, ever corner, looking in every drawer. Morgyn followed as Guidry examined every picture, every knick knack, and every treasure brought from foreign lands, and listened patiently as his friend reveled in every memory they conjured up. After hours of exploration and some tea in the dining nook, they finally settled on the sofa for some friendly conversation.
Guidry told Morgyn of his life in this house, how he had inherited it from his mother, and how he had managed to hold on to it, in spite of the changes in his financial status. The “paranormal investigator” gig had proven to be just profitable enough to keep Guidry in comfort right up until his untimely, and ultimately embarrassing, demise.
“I'm so glad to be back here,” he said, softly.
“I hope you noticed that I included a few modern conveniences,” Morgyn said, proudly.
Guidry groaned. He had noticed the computer in the bedroom and the TV in the parlor.
“Thank you,” he said. “I suppose some things do have to move forward.”
“Well, it never hurts,” Morgyn said, as he rose to leave. “We all have to adapt.”
Guidry laughed. “I've done nothing but adapt. I can manage. I can't tell you how much I appreciate this, my friend.”
Morgyn winced at the word 'friend.' “Listen, Guidry. I know the assembly proposal is important to you. To all of you. I just didn't realize why it was important, until now. I promise to do what I can to move things along. Everyone deserves a real home.”
Guidry smiled as he engulfed his friend in a goodbye hug. “Yes. Yes, we do. And thank you, so much, for mine.”
They said their awkward but heartfelt goodbyes, and Guidry walked his friend to the door. As Morgyn stepped out into the cold, the charming spirit couldn't resist one last parting shot.
“Oh, and Morgyn?”
“Yes?”
“Bonehilda's going to love this!”
“Great,” Morgyn replied, wryly. “Maybe she'll keep that cleaning cloth to herself”
