There was another prompt on the imagineberingandwells blog which intrigued me. Okay, who am I fooling? We all know that it's my blog. So... I had this idea...

Warning: Might become incredibly painful, Major character death.

Thanks to the-social-recluse for going in another painful trip with me and betaing this.

Come here

Pretty please

Can you tell me where I am

You, won't you say something

I need to get my bearings

I'm lost

And the shadows keep on changing

Poe - Haunted

She had been alone for a very long time. In fact, she had no idea for how long she had been alone in this completely empty house, or why. Didn't she have family who cared for her? Who would send her letters to make sure she was alright? Or maybe a telegram? Or something to tell her that they were alive and well?

Well, on the other side she hadn't sent something like this as well. Neither had she any intentions to do so.

It wasn't like she knew to whom she should send such things. The truth was that she didn't even know who she was and if she had something like family.

All she knew was that she just had bought this house. The reason why she had bought this house was... also nothing she knew. Or why she felt so much pain in her heart. The pain was something that concerned her the most. It was always there and turned her existence into torture, although for some unknown reason it was also soothing at the same time. She got lost very often in this numbing pain. And when her mind became clear again, she didn't know for how long she had been gone.

Sometimes, when the pain wasn't that bad she had the feeling she was about to remember everything. But as if her mind wanted to protect herself, she always fell back into that numbing state of pain and oblivion. It was frustrating, even though she didn't know what was causing it.

This was how she spent her time, in pain, in oblivion, frustrated, and utterly lonely. But none of her emotions caused a desire in her to leave this house. It was like she had to be here by default. Like she belonged to this house and it belonged to her. So she didn't question it. Not even once.

After a very long time... After a very long time? It could also be a very short time which she hadn't realised. How long had she been here now? She had no idea. Maybe she should do some research on the time she had spe-

But there was something far more important.

There were people in her house, for god's sake! And it might be that she had some problems with her memory, but she was more than sure she hadn't invited anyone into her house.

So she almost flew down the wooden stairs to protect her property, not even the tiniest bit afraid that those people could mean harm to her.

It were two men in blue overalls and yellow helmets. No, make that two utterly rude men in blue overalls and yellow helmets. They didn't greet her. On the contrary, they completely ignored her. How dare they!

In the dim light which the windows allowed to pass through the thick layers of dust on them, the two men walked around the empty house and talked quietly to each other. They examined and observed every wall, every wooden beam and every window in her house. And they completely ignored her while doing it.

She was mad. No, she was utterly furious. Those people came into her house and looked at her property like it was their own. They even drew with pencils on her walls! She recognised the feeling of being this angry and assumed that she had already been this furious at least once in her life. If only she could remember...

At first she tried to show those men how one behaves properly. She politely greeted them and asked them what they were doing here. After a while, she started yelling at them. She was impressed by their complete lack of emotion towards her. If she would have been yelled at by the owner of the house she just had intruded into, she would have never been able to be so completely emotionless.

After some time, she gave up her attempts to communicate with them and stomped frustratedly with her foot on the wooden floor.

One of those men spun around on his heels and stared at the floor.

"Did you hear that?" He asked his partner like she wasn't standing at the spot he was staring at.

This became more and more mysterious to her.

"It's an old house, pal. The floor is made of wood. It makes noises." His partner answered.

So, well. They really didn't recognise that she was standing in front of them. Suddenly, she felt afraid.

Could it be... could it be that she somehow was invisible? She had the feeling that being invisible meant something to her. Maybe she was invisible. Maybe it was a side effect of being invisible that people also couldn't hear her. That was an explanation to why she was so lonely - since people couldn't really communicate with her.

Oh, buggers. This was an utterly unpleasant situation. No memory, invisible, intruders in her house. Was there anything she could do about this? And for god's sake, how did it come to this? She was very certain that one didn't get just invisible by mistake and no one recognised it. Maybe an experiment? Had she performed experiments? That rang a bell inside her. But she didn't know why.

She huffed in frustration and crossed her arms. Arms!

For the first time in what felt like ages she looked down her own body. Yes, she was in fact female. Good, she hadn't really thought about it but it had been an assumption she was glad to see come true.

Then she realised that - while apparently being invisible - she could see her own body. This was good, too. She had no interest in being a bodiless entity floating around the house. She could see and feel her own body. Well, there was no mirror in her house and the windows were still too dusty to show her what her face looked like. But she recognised her silky black hair (she had to admit that she was a little impressed by her own hair being that silky and shiny after all that time without a bath) and that she was dressed properly in black trousers, a white blouse, a black waistcoat and simply black and flat shoes. This was good as well, because she also had no desire in being invisible and unable to communicate with people while being in a dress and a corset. She didn't even dare to think about being trapped in a corset without being able to ask another person to help her out of it.

While she stood with her arms crossed in front of these two men, who now measured her house, she had the feeling of becoming self aware. But not too much. She had understood that she was in fact a person but she had still no idea who this person was and how it did come to this situation.

And why there was this feeling of pain in her heart all the time.

It was exasperating.

She didn't get hungry. This was something she noticed while looking at one of those workers in her house who had sat down to eat pastries. Those two men had left after a while and she had been glad that she was alone again until more people had come into her house.

A big group of people now came every day. They carried strange machines and tools with them and messed up with her walls and the floor. At first she had been worried that they were about to break down the house completely, but then she had realised that they were fixing it up.

Well, that wasn't something to be mad about. Even though she hadn't asked for it.

She had to admit that this house had been a mess. So it was alright they took care for it, although she asked herself whose idea it was.

And it was very unpleasant that she couldn't tell them to stop at some point. Sometimes she had a need for silence, but those people worked the whole day. At least at night she was alone again and could enjoy the silence.

And now she sat in front of this worker who happily munched a round piece of pastry and she realised that she hadn't eaten in ages. Or slept. She had no need to eat or sleep.

Being invisible didn't at all explain the lack of hunger or fatigue. And there was still this pain inside her chest. Something was wrong. Something was utterly wrong...

The windows were renewed and clean (no mirror reflection, of course - being invisible meant no mirror reflection - how could she have been so stupid?), the walls were fixed and painted white, they had changed the arrangement of rooms. They had also set up a completely new, strange looking bathroom and something she assumed to be a kitchen. It looked good. The invisible woman was pleased by the job those men had done Even though she still hadn't asked for it. But if the interruption of her solitude meant getting your house fixed up this well, she could agree on more such interruptions in a distant future.

Those men also brought some strange things into her house. She had watched them putting cables up in her walls and currently, her face hovered over a really odd flat white rectangular-shaped object on the wall with three holes in it. She had absolutely no idea what that was for, but there were several of them around her house.

Interesting. She had to admit that some of the things they had placed here really intrigued her. But she had also noticed that another side effect of being invisible meant being unable to touch objects. And that was something that really worried her.

Was it just that she was invisible? Was there no different explanation? There had to be ano-

The main door opened and she turned around to find out who was now coming in her house.

Of course. That one woman who had showed up occassionally while the workers were here. Who had talked to them and who had looked very pleased around the house. Somehow, the invisible woman disliked her. She called her 'the laugher'. Because the woman had such an unpleasant false laugh.

But now, the laugher was followed by another woman. She was tall, brunette, curly haired. Her green eyes glistened as she walked through the door and took a first look at the hall. The invisible woman had to admit she was beautiful. Something about her utterly intrigued her. And suddenly, that pain inside her chest remarkably weakened.

"And here we are." The laugher said with some sort of self-regarding voice while stepping out of the hall and into a bigger room next to the kitchen.

The new woman closed the main door behind herself and followed her after, smiling genuinely.

"You didn't lie in your email." She said. "It is beautiful."

American. She was American.

"Of course I didn't lie in my email, Miss Bering." The laugher replied with this faux laugh on her lips. Miss Bering. Bering. The invisible woman decided that it was important to memorise this name. "I also didn't lie when I said that HG Wells bought it in 1899."

HG Wells? This name... This name meant something to her. She was sure.

"So he really lived here?" Miss Bering asked and raised both her eyebrows, clearly showing disbelief. She left the big room through the door to the kitchen.

"Uhm, no, I'm sorry." The laugher replied. "He just bought this house and then abandoned it for an unknown reason. The house was empty until he died in 1946 and all those years afterwards because he didn't mention it in his testament and nobody claimed it." After that she followed the American.

After a long time of solitude and confusion, the woman who spent all her time in this house had been sure that her own name was HG Wells. But then she realised both of these intruders referred to this person as a he. Now, she was more confused than ever. But it also had a different cause inside her. She really felt the need to find out who she was. And it numbed the pain.

HG Wells was dead and this could also mean- She shoved this thought away. Maybe she could find out more when she followed the women through the house.

"After a long time of pushing papers, the city could claim the house and demolish it, but instead it was decided the house should get fixed and turned into this beautiful place." The laugher smiled and looked at the ceiling.

"And now I bought it." Miss Bering showed a very pleasant smile. "It's a nice side effect that it belonged to HG Wells. You have to know that I really have a thing for his literature."

"Well, I assumed. Since you're a literature professor." Again a false smile from the laugher.

"Mrs. Smith-" Aha! The grinning creature had a name. "It's more than just a work interest in his literature. It's like..." Miss Bering blushed a little. "Like he's my idol or something. My father read his books to me when I was a kid."

The American looked so happy and satisfied while she talked about this fact that the invisible woman wished she could be this HG Wells for her. The thought soothed the pain in her heart, and so did the way Miss Bering smiled. The name meant so much for the both of them. So she decided to refer to herself as HG Wells. Why not? It wasn't like this dead man could claim this name any longer. And somehow, she suddenly had the need to have a name.

HG Wells was delighted by Miss Bering.