There’s Someone In My House (Part 1)
Inspired by a true incident.
3rd May, 1978.
“Have you heard? Mrs. Joyce Rey has been claimed to have lost control over her mind. The doctors have absolutely no remedy for it. She’s been in the hospital for the past week and was released just last night,” said Rose Murphy, Joyce’s neighbor, to Lily Newton.
“Really?” Lily asked, shocked.
“Uh huh,” Rose nodded. “Look, look. There she goes home.”
Both women turned to see Joyce go into her home, shaking her head incessantly and muttering “damned keys, damned door and damned frogs”.
“Oh, dear me!” exclaimed Lily when Joyce was out of sight. “She indeed has a bad case. Why, if she continues, she shall have damned all of the Earth!”
29th July, 1985.
“Walter!” called Joyce Rey. “It’s my birthday today and you haven’t bought me a gift.”
She pouted. When he didn’t reply, she screamed, “WALTER REY! ANSWER ME THIS INSTANT!”
All she got back was silence.
“Walter?” she whispered. “This is no time to play hide-and-seek. We’re old now. Come on out.”
She ventured into the kitchen and yet couldn’t see Walter. Where was he?
“You think I’m too old? I can catch up with you any day, Mister Rey!” she laughed, and chased nothing around the house.
“Look at her,” Lily pointed to her children as they left for school early in the morning. “When you don’t do your work sincerely at school and trouble your teachers, God punishes you,” she taught them.
The children were terrified, and stumbled into their school bus.
“Behave yourselves!” their mother reminded, as the bus sped off.
She turned around and glanced toward Mrs. Joyce. She was panting hard and chattering away to her window. Lily shook her head.
Perhaps, she thought. Perhaps it is the trauma of losing her husband, Walter, which has got Joyce into this terrible brain illness.
4th June, 1992.
“Mrs. Joyce Rey had contributed to the society a new way of knowing happiness and giving us the willingness to fight the hurdles in life and come over them.
“Mr. Walter Rey served diligently in the war, and was a martyr to our country. He died seventeen years ago, the grief of which Mrs. Rey couldn’t bear. It was painful to see how her sanity lost grip on her day by day. For fourteen years, she suffered an awful illness which had her mind in such a flow that one moment, she was 82, and the next, she was a teenager. Minds play games, and it played the worst with Mrs. Rey.
“Today, we bury Joyce Rey, who lived for 83 years, beside her husband, and we pray that these two everlasting souls unite in Heaven. Amen,” said the priest.
“Amen,” repeated the three neighbors, the Rey brothers, and Joyce’s sister, Margaret.
10th June, 1992.
“It is in her will, sire. We must not go against Joyce’s last wish!” insisted Margaret.
“Madam, it is inappropriate to bury anybody in their house, lest any tenants find it uneasy to reside. You must understand,” replied the solicitor, calmly. “The house must be kept open for renting. And besides, we all know she suffered a rare brain disease. She might have written her will in a completely disarrayed state of mind.”