I felt more comfortable in the house, even though I’d have to address the mildew smell eventually. I walked back into the house and continued exploring. Through what I assumed was the living room, I entered a smaller, narrower archway into a tiny kitchen. There was a newer oven in the corner, and by newer, I would’ve guessed early two thousands. It was a nice electric stove, though. Probably the newest thing in this old house.

The wiring made me pause. So much exposed wire was around the kitchen, which felt extremely unsafe. If a child lived here, CPS would have been called. The oven was plugged into an outlet properly connected to the wall, but the oven light was connected to an outlet hanging into the wall with exposed wire. As discovered before, though, the electricity didn’t work, So… safer?

There were some cabinet spaces along the oven wall before it turned a corner and there was the kitchen sink full of dishes. There was no dishwasher as I spotted a dish drying rack resting on an old, musty towel. A few clean dishes sat in the rack.

Across from the oven, a sturdy block of cherry wood was connected to the small kitchen wall, practically cutting the room in half. Perhaps it was like a kitchen island. This kitchen was so small, though, that it doubled as a kitchen table. Judging by the dirty dishes I found there, it made sense. A microwave was plugged into the wall and resting on the table. I almost missed it after seeing so much stuff covered around it. The table was covered in bags of groceries, spilling onto the chairs and under the table.

A fridge stood against the other wall, and a gorgeous cheery wood cabinet was adjacent to the fridge. It covered most of the wall on the other side of the kitchen. On the bottom were more cherry cabinets for storage, with one of the doors hanging off its hinges and canned food tumbling out. Above the bottom cabinets was a large space covered in more grocery bags and other assortment of coats and purses draped across the cabinetry or the chairs to the table. The thing that made me catch my breath was the beautiful amber glass bubble doors on the top of the cabinetry. I could see an outline of what was left of the stacked, clean dishes. It was absolutely something that would be found in the seventies. At least they didn’t try to paint over it. That cherry wood was gorgeous.

This room had three doors. I tried the door next to the fridge, but found it locked. Just like the door in the bedroom. In fact, judging by the layout of the house, this was possibly the door to that bedroom. But why was it locked?

This was a hoarder house. Maybe not to the extent of mounds of trash all over, but whoever owned this home had a hard time letting things go. I tried the two doors that were next to each other. One was the back door into a covered back porch area, the other door led to the bathroom. I would explore those later. For now, I wanted to do a bit more exploring of this old kitchen.

I tried to turn on the sink, and was relieved that the water was working. I splashed my face with the water before wiping it off with the sleeve of my nightgown. No towel in this room had my trust.

I didn’t even notice there was a phone until I gave the kitchen island another look. It was an old phone with the cord plugged into the wall, resting on a base. I raised an eyebrow, curious, as I walked over to inspect it. It was a simple black phone. The phone itself wasn’t connected to the base with a twirly cord, because that existed back in the day.

Back in the day. What year was I referencing to get a ‘back in the day’? I wasn’t sure, but I was certain that everything in here was old. Not just the house that felt like it was built in the late eighteen hundreds, but the wood paneling and this phone. If anything, I vaguely remembered this phone from my childhood. Perhaps. Not this phone, but I did know that when someone called and left a message, there was usually some indication like a blinking red light right…

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There.

I glanced around, frowning, before studying the blinking red light again. There were trees for miles, and I hadn’t seen a single house, let alone a row of electrical poles that connected to any sort of electricity. The electricity didn’t even work.

I was in complete isolation, yet someone had called this phone. The phone base had a number pad and a small, electronical face that read 1 NEW MESSAGE.

Perhaps it was a clue. Nothing around me was familiar. I picked up the phone and the base, turning it around, trying to figure out how to replay a message. Or to remember what button to push. I had no idea. When I was a child I remembered these kinds of phones, but I had no idea what button to push. That was a job my mother had.

Huh. I guess I had a mother. I can’t remember her face, though. My dad was out of the picture. I distinctly remember using that exact phrase when I was little to a lot of people.

I lifted the phone itself, placing it against my ear.

“One new message,” said an overly robotic voice. “Press one to hear it.”

Easy enough. I brought the phone back down and hit the number one before placing the phone back to my ear.

“Hello.” Nothing about this female voice brought back any memories. I did get the feeling that this woman needed to be listened to. “In seven days, they will come. In seven days, they will start to destroy. If you want to survive, you must get your house in order. Follow your to-do list, and you will be protected. Stray from the list, and they will break into your house, and it will be up to you to protect yourself.

“The list is being procured as we speak. It will be here every morning when you wake up.”

I glanced around before noticing a notepad at eye level, connected to the wall. There was a mug stuffed with pencils and pens next to the phone in case I needed to write things down, but I didn’t need to. I watched as words appeared on the notepad, like an invisible hand and pen were writing it. The handwriting was beautifully cursive.

“Declutter one room of your choice.”

The instructions appeared on the notepad as the woman said it.

“Inspect the food in the kitchen. Throw away what is expired, and properly store what is fresh.

“Take expired food to the dumpster outside.

“Further instructions will follow…”

The perfectly cursive handwriting wrote down everything as the woman said it. It showed up as four bullet points on the notepad. I didn’t even notice the beeping sound on the phone, indicating the message had ended, until it made me jump. I placed the phone back on the base before tearing off the paper.

The second the paper was torn from the notepad, two bars appeared at the top lefthand corner of my vision. There was something familiar about it.

Game. This was a game. I was familiar with this set up. I’d somehow stumbled into… no. That was impossible. I glanced down at my hands. I was real. Absolutely real. Except… I woke up in a bed that wasn’t mine, in a house I had no recollection of being in, and no memory of who I was.

I tried to study the two bars at my vision to get a closer look. There was a yellow bar with a lightning bolt. Stamina. The one underneath had a symbol with a minimalist person’s blue head with white lines scribbling through the brain.

Sanity.

I backed away until I hit the cherry wood table. Parts of this were familiar. A dirty house, miles of land. I was positive the backyard would have a garden I could clear and grow some vegetables. This was a farming simulator. I adored farming simulator games. That much I knew, even before knowing my own name. I would spend hours making my little virtual place pretty, growing my garden, cleaning my house to upgrade and decorate. But this?

They will come. They will destroy. You must protect your house.

I blinked, remembering the VHS’s on that bookshelf. The dusty paperbacks stuffed haphazardly into the shelves. Whatever they were couldn’t be good. Somehow a farming simulator had been combined with a horror game. My most favorite game with my least favorite genre.

Whatever they were, I wasn’t interested in meeting them. I looked at the paper in my hand with the instructions. I didn’t want to come face to face with whatever evil was out there. There was enough evil in the world. Why did anyone have to make up more? Especially considering people could randomly wake up in unknown houses with that very evil threatening to come harm them in seven days.

I studied the page in my hand, my decision made. I would do what the mysterious woman suggested. It was time to clean the house.