Welcome home, Jack.
The giant front door is gray-washed wood splintering along cracks in the plane of its face. The silver knob is loose, and gently, it turns in our hands. The front door of the House gives with a popping and creaking so loud, it's as if it's never been opened before now. The light from within is a bath as dim as it is warm.
The Foyer of the House is flanked by a set of grandly sweeping spiral stairs on either side of the entryway that leads into a formal sitting room inside which a television is playing Golden Girls reruns on mute. Bea Arthur's face scrunches sour at the expense of Betty White, splashing soft blue light on the walls to the familiar sound of clanging pots from the kitchen beyond.
Be mindful that the dates of our most recent posts may range from Year Zero to present and just because you're seeing updates from 600BC, it doesn't mean they weren't written yesterday.
The interior of this floor of the House is dressed in the drab paint of an undecided shade, and the floors are splintered and worn of their whitewash in footpaths connecting each doorway and archway. The air within smells like cooking oil embedded into damp wood, something herbaceous lurking beneath the tattered fabrics of the House's original furniture, never reupholstered. The light from the inconspicuously placed lamps is dusty and cloyed with the feel of old money and older secrets.
Song of the Day
Every night, the Gray Family chooses a song of the day in order to musically chronicle their collective existence. This playlist is an easy way to keep your finger on the pulse of Gray House just by pressing play.
Ever wonder how the songs of the day are chosen? Text message a Gray Family member and ask. Read this to find out how.
A small closet beneath the stairs is standing open, the contents strewn carelessly across the floor of the otherwise impressive entrance. Old board games, umbrellas, a bicycle, a set of shackles, stacks of antique pornographic magazines, a box of pixie stix, and a plastic gallon of unspecified liquid.
NOTE: OUR FULL UPDATES PAGE HAS CHANGED TO INCLUDE JACK'S JOURNAL
Evelyn and Rosie reveal what Jack can expect when walking into each bedroom of Gray House. Layout, vibe, and what the inhabitant might be found doing.
On the wall between the staircases is an enormous, disturbingly morose painting of Nicholas, in clean tweed, having just come back from an extensive hunting excursion, circa 1812. He sits on a throne of purple velour over ornately carved gold, delicately pinching a fully bloomed lily in his pale and elongated fingers.
REMINDER: None of these events are static in time or space, they all occur perpetually and everywhere. So, if you’ve missed an event, you can go back in time to experience it. It’s never too late to write about it or engage us about it. Nothing expires. We are endless.
NOTES TO JACK
You can respond to our notes and letters by using the form submissions in our rooms, clicking directly on the links to our emails in Room Three, or commenting on Instagram.
The Ghost Boy of Gray House has been fiddling with the website again. Should some of your favorite pages be moved or rearranged at random, don't be surprised, but don't complain to us either. Just consider it all part of the whole being caught in an endless maze of shifting time and space thing.