“The guardian discovered this house.”
From the old man’s phrasing, Pool began to hear part of the thread to the weaving of a myth. He was good at discerning the half truths that propped the foundations of deceit.
“He was a merchant from the sixties. He related that when he entered this house, he was forty and it was located somewhere else.”
Pool was not buying the last line. The old man’s memory could be mistaken owing to the long stay inside, if the claim was indeed true.
“When I came inside this house, they were arguing, the same way we argued earlier. The guardian warned the other guy, that’s him on the furthermost left photo, the same thing I told you.”
“What did you come?” Pool wanted to be sure if the house had already the reputation of haunting. “Were you aware of anything strange going on here?”
“The villagers back then talked about a man who vanished. They pointed to this house as his last whereabouts. I was an insurance salesman so my occupation revolved around risk taking.”
“You said they argued. What happened when you came?”
“The guardian repeated the warning all over again.”
“The other man left and you stayed.”
“Yes.” There was sadness in the old man’s voice. Perhaps, he prevented tears from emerging from his eyes.
“What happened to the guardian?” Pool had to ask. From the five photos, one of them could be him.”
“I buried him downstairs in the cellar almost five years ago to this day.”
“I want to see the place,” Pool’s heightened sense of self-preservation took charge. In the event the old man had any ideas on luring him to his grave, he was ready to defend himself to the very end.
The burial ground was too shallow that parts of the skeleton protruded to the surface.
“How can you survive all this time?”
For an answer, the old man turned on the light bulb in other part of the room.
Pool was not ready for his next surprise.
(to be continued)