The Honest House
Copyright ©️ Anshin B. Kelly, Mrs. Rosa, All Rights Reserved.
Chapter 1: The Moonlit Deer
Once there was a family in a beautiful home, alive with laughing children and constant shenanigans, always poked fun at to keep things from getting too wild. Their yard, bordered by woods, bloomed with exquisite gardens, drawing neighbors to gather and revel in the warmth. But the true wonder was a beautiful deer who came from the woods, standing radiant in the moonlight, often with her fawns. Oh, how magnificent! The family’s joy swelled at her presence, a quiet magic binding them. Years passed, and the children grew, bringing boyfriends and girlfriends home. These partners didn’t laugh when teased, stiff with embarrassment. Mortified, the grown children stopped laughing too. Soon, the laughter drained from the house, and the deer stopped coming. The sun seemed to vanish, leaving only night, cold and dark. The family became night creatures, wincing at moonlight.
Yet, in that darkened home lived a ten-year-old grandchild, a girl born in the shadows. One night, she saw a shining light through the trees. Putting on her coat, she followed it, stumbling through the woods but unafraid—she was used to the dark. In a clearing, she found the most magnificent sight: a deer, standing in a pool of moonlight. The girl approached, and the deer agreed to follow her home. The family, frantically searching, saw her return and were struck by her beauty, unseen before in the dark. The deer came back now, visiting the girl, and soon, light was restored to their lives.
Chapter 2: The Bat and the Ego
The granddaughter who kept the light grew fierce, her bond with the deer unshakable. Her cousin, the grandson, stayed in his dark room, shunning the world. One evening, as she and her grandmother sat on the couch, watching the deer and her fawns in the yard, an awful bashing erupted—scary, violent. The grandson stormed in, baseball bat swinging, breaking things in the living room. The deer sensed it and fled. The granddaughter sprang up, stealing the bat mid-swing from his hands. As he turned, she tripped him with it, sending him sprawling. “You’ll not scare the deer,” she said, voice steady. “If she leaves, so does the light.”
“I don’t care about the light! I HATE THE LIGHT!” he screamed. She stood firm. “There are rules to staying here. The deer told me.” He scoffed, menacing. “Did you hear that, Grandma? You’ve got a psycho for a granddaughter! She TALKS TO DEER!” Grandmother shrugged. “Well, you’re on the floor by your own stupidity, and she has the bat from her own skill.” His glare could stick a fork in your eye, but he went silent. The granddaughter spoke again. “The new rules: One, you have to laugh at yourself. Two, you have to stare in the mirror at yourself ten minutes a day. Applying makeup doesn’t count for women. If you can’t abide, you’ll have to leave. Out there, people laugh *at* you, not with you. Ever.”
Chapter 3: The Heels and the Storm
One day, another granddaughter stormed in from her grocery run, heels clicking, teeth and unnatural highlights flashing. She tossed her keys on the table with a clash, announcing to the grandmother and the granddaughter who keeps the light, washing dishes, “I’m leaving my husband, he’s got problems.” Grandmother turned, “I’m washing your dishes, dear.” The heeled granddaughter’s gaze could peel the wallpaper off, but she stayed silent, a miracle. The light-keeper said, “Your husband makes you laugh. You don’t laugh, except when he’s with you.” Ignoring that, the heeled granddaughter said, “I’ve met someone else, our neighbor. He’s kind, gentle, makes me feel safe.”
Grandmother and the light-keeper raised their eyebrows so high they disappeared into their hairline. “That guy?” Grandmother snorted, laughing. “He’s exactly like you! He never laughs! AND he keeps everyone who could make him laugh away! You’ll see, granddaughter, that man will laugh *at* you, not with you, as soon as you get home to put a ring on it, and he’s had you in bed… once…” Silence fell, palpable, until grandmother and the light-keeper began to snort, cough, then fell over in peals of laughter, clutching their stomachs.
Chapter 4: The Grandson’s Witness
The grandson, no longer in the dark, wanted to convert to the Jesus religion. The family, never tied to one faith, perhaps followed “Honesty,” though they never said as much. One day, he sat with his Bible, giving grandmother a lesson. “Then Jesus did this amazing thing!” Grandmother said, “Hold on, grandson, Jesus seems very interested in abracadabra, but I have a feeling he’s not…” She tried not to smile. It was too much for him. He shut the book. “God helps those who help themselves. I’m going witnessing.” “Oh, good, you do that,” she said, “I’ve got loads to do here, thanks for the lesson.”
He went out, preaching all day. People laughed, pointing, jeering, “Oh yeah, Jesus the magician hahahahahaha!” Mortified, he kept charging, “No, BECAUSE HE’S THE SON OF GOD!” They laughed more, forming a mob, and he ran home. Grandmother was doing laundry, a sandwich ready—though he never told her when he’d be back. He ate dutifully, thinking of his abracadabra Jesus, how much he loved him. Then he looked at grandmother, so beautiful, so steady, so loving. He’d rather she laugh as she poked his beliefs than be mobbed by those who laughed *at* him, caring nothing for him.
Chapter 5: Sundays and Bargains
One morning, grandmother and the light-keeper sat on the couch, watching the deer, again with her fawns. The grandson, now respectful (you recall he wasn’t before, until the light-keeper bested him in bat skills), came in dressed for church. “Would either of you like to come to church with me on Sundays?” The light-keeper said, “I can try and make it, but the deer tend to be here Sundays, and I have to protect them.” Grandmother, laughter in her eyes, said, “I’ll go with you Sundays, but you have to give me something in return.” Grandson dropped his head, trying to hide a smile. “Ok, Grandmother, always the barterer, what can I do for you?” She straightened, smirking. “You have to promise to practice these house rules, even when you move out. Do you remember what they are?” He lifted his head, smiling. “Yes, 1. Laugh at myself and 2. Look at myself in the mirror for ten minutes, everyday.”
Chapter 6: The Snug Confession
Grandson tried hard, knowing his grandmother, to explain Confession. She listened, then patted his knee. “Grandson, you worry far too much, I’ll be fine.” “It’s not you I’m worried about,” he muttered. In the confession booth, after an infernal silence, the priest said, “Are you ok? Can I help you?” Grandmother said, “Oh, yes, Father, I was just thinking: I feel like the Little Old Woman who lived in a Shoe… it’s really very snug in here…” The priest gave a muffled laugh, snort? “Are you alright, Father?” she asked. He managed, “Yes, yes I am.” “I was wondering, Father, do you know the next line of that rhyme?” The priest couldn’t hold it. “Why! Yes I do!” “Oh, please say it for me…” “She had so many children, she didn’t know what to do.” “That’s right,” Grandmother said. “That Holy Mother statue out front, she said she feels like that poor old woman in this place.”
Chapter 7: The Padre’s Laughter
One day, grandson was depressed, kneeling in the chapel, head down, praying so hard his brow furrowed, deep, tight. An Old, Old Padre came from the back, touching his back gently. Grandson startled. “Oh, it’s you, Padre, sorry, I was very focused…” The Padre said, “What’s on your mind, son? Praying? Or thinking too hard? There’s a difference…” Grandson relented, “I’m very worried about grandmother, I want her to see the light, come to Lord Jesus and be saved, but she doesn’t seem keen…” The Padre chuckled. “I’ve had her in Confession many times, she never confesses anything…” Grandson looked horrified. The Padre put his hand up. “Son, she has me in stitches every time, then leaves. She’s absolutely honest. Unbelievable, but there she is. And as for being saved? People who are always honest don’t need saving.”
“So why allow her to come, if she wastes your time?” The Padre chuckled, REALLY chuckled. “The Truth? She tricks me into confessing to HER.” “What?! If she tricks you, how is she honest?” The Padre held up his hand. “Son, slow your mind, the mind, it’s such a low creature… her tricks are folds, like in fabric…” His eyes looked up past the crucifix. “We hide from God, ourselves, lose track of what we’ve hidden. She has the full blanket, drapes it to help us unfold.” He continued, “She told me about Abracadabra Jesus, I laughed so hard I almost didn’t recover.” Grandson smiled. “I need Jesus to be something FOR ME, and he allows it, because He loves me.” The Padre smiled, like looking at his own grandson. “That He does, son.”
Chapter 8: The Low Creature
Grandson walked through the front door to a warm dinner, Grandmother washing dishes. He blurted, “Grandmother, why won’t Jesus just be HIMSELF around me?!” She whirled, eyes surprised. “Don’t look at me like that! Why is Jesus allowing me to conjure things about him that are… not true…?” She wiped her hands, gestured lovingly for him to sit and eat. She sat beside him. “Jesus is himself around you I suspect, he’s just not fully. A person is layered.” Grandson laughed, “My mind, the low creature that it is, I’m honest enough to accept, meets Jesus as if he were a magician.” “Jesus I suspect is a kind of magician, so that’s ok.” “But it’s not, is it?!” A long silence expanded. “Our hearts understand Jesus, but our minds do not,” she said, kissed his head, and left the room.