We Have Always Lived in the Castle

Introduction to My Castle

Dear Reader, you may find it strange to receive a letter from someone as reclusive as I, Mary Katherine Blackwood, known to those I hold dear as Merricat. I live—or lived, depending on when this finds you—in a world so distinct from the bustling streets and crowded homes that may surround you.

My world is a castle, hidden behind thorns and whispers, a bastion where the past lingers like the scent of a heavy perfume. You may not have heard of it, nor of me, but I invite you to step into my story, a tale woven with threads of the unexpected and the uncanny.

As you sit there, perhaps in a room filled with noise or oppressive silence, consider the walls that enclose you. Are they a fortress shielding you from the world, or a prison? My home, the Blackwood family estate, was both to me.

Within its walls, I discovered love, fear, and the peculiarities of a life spent on the outskirts of acceptance. Like you, I have faced judgment, been misunderstood, and perhaps you too know the sting of isolation.

But, dear reader, it is within the confines of our castles that we can find the strength to endure and to blossom.

The Family I Loved and Feared

Our family, though now just a memory, was once as real as your own. I had my beloved sister, Constance, my dear Uncle Julian, and a presence of others long past.

We were a curious lot, bound by blood and tragedy. You may have your own family, a group of people tied to you through various means, not all of them blood.

We all have our roles—caretakers, outcasts, providers, or dependents. In the Blackwood family, roles were as defined as the silverware placement at dinner, yet as fluid as the poison that danced through our history.

My sister, Constance, was the sun around which my world orbited, a beacon of normalcy in a home that had seen too much darkness. Uncle Julian, with his mind a jumble of the past and present, served as a living reminder of the Blackwood legacy, both its grandeur and its shame.

In our interactions with one another, we found solace and conflict, echoing perhaps your own familial bonds. Just as you may struggle with the complexities of love and duty, so did we.

Through these struggles, we carved out our identities, as you too shape yours amidst the push and pull of family life.

The Poison of the Past

There is an event, reader, that hangs over my story like a specter, a dark cloud that you might feel in your own life as an unspoken regret or a buried grief. The Blackwoods faced a catastrophe that marked us, a poison that took away my parents, my brother, and my aunt.

It was not just the arsenic that laced the sugar that fateful day, but the poison of suspicion, of rumors that seeped into the soil of our family tree. You may know this poison too, in the form of a mistake, a misjudgment, or a secret, something that changed how others see you, even how you see yourself.

The past can be as much a prison as a castle's stone walls. Like you, I have been held captive by memories that refuse to fade.

But I have also learned that the past need not define us. It shapes us, yes, as a river carves a canyon, but we are more than the sum of our history.

We are the choices we make in its wake, the paths we forge when the world expects us to crumble. I chose to protect my sister, to preserve our way of life, and in doing so, I found a peculiar freedom, as you might find in embracing your own shadows and learning to dance with them.

The Rituals That Bind and Free

Let me tell you of rituals, reader. Not the kind that call for cloaks and chants, but the small ceremonies that make up a life.

The burying of treasures, the protective words, the daily habits that you, too, might recognize as your own anchors in the chaos of life. I had my safeguards and superstitions, my little acts of magic meant to keep the world at bay.

Perhaps you have your routines, your little acts of control in a world that often feels uncontrollable. But rituals can become chains, and it is a lesson hard-learned when the familiar becomes a crutch.

My world was upended by a cousin, Charles, who sought to penetrate our sanctuary, to disrupt the sacred patterns that I believed kept us safe. You may know the feeling, when someone or something threatens the fragile balance you've struck in your life.

It is terrifying, yes, but it is also an opportunity. An opportunity to reassess, to grow, to find strength not just in the familiar but in the ability to adapt.

As I navigated the challenge Charles posed, I learned that true magic lies not in the repetition of actions, but in the resilience of the spirit.

The Outsider's Gaze

Now, let me speak of outsiders, for we have all been one at some point, haven't we? The Blackwoods were shunned, the subject of hushed gossip and pointed fingers. We lived on the edge of the world, watching the normalcy we could never attain.

You, too, might know the feeling of being on the outside looking in, of wanting and rejecting the acceptance of others. It is a complex dance, one of yearning and disdain.

My heart knew the pain of exclusion, but it also knew the power it gave me. I was free from the expectations that bind so many, free to create a world of my own design.

And in your own way, dear reader, you have this power too. The power to define yourself, to create your own sense of belonging, even when the world seems determined to cast you out.

It takes courage to stand alone, but in that solitude, there is a strength that can bloom like a rare flower in the wilderness.

The Illusion of Safety

There was a fire, a cleansing and a destruction that you might equate to a turning point in your own life. A moment when everything you believed to be safe and certain was consumed by flames of change.

The fire that ravaged my home stripped away the veneer of security that I had so meticulously crafted, just as a personal crisis might strip you of your own illusions. But from the ashes, something new can emerge.

For me, it was a deeper bond with Constance, a realization that our true home was not in the structure of our house, but in the sanctuary we found in each other. You, too, may find that when the world burns, what remains is the essence of what truly matters.

The people who stand by you, the values that withstand the heat, these are the foundations upon which you can rebuild.

The Rebirth of Merricat

They say that to endure is to be changed, and I am a testament to that truth. The Mary Katherine Blackwood you met at the beginning of this letter has been altered by the trials and triumphs of her life.

I have been reborn in the eyes of my sister, in the understanding that our castle need not be a place of fear, but a haven of our own making. As you navigate the waters of your life, remember that you too are being reborn with each challenge you overcome, with each moment of joy you embrace.

Our stories, while uniquely our own, share the universal themes of loss, love, and the quest for identity. In my tale, you may find echoes of your own, and it is my hope that in sharing my journey, you might see the potential for beauty and growth in yours.

Life is an intricate tapestry of such stories, each thread contributing to the grand design. Embrace your thread, dear reader, and weave it with courage and grace.

Farewell from Merricat

As our time together draws to a close, I step out of my role as Mary Katherine Blackwood to tell you that this has been but a glimpse into my world, a world masterfully captured by Shirley Jackson in her novel "We Have Always Lived in the Castle." I urge you to seek out her book, to immerse yourself in the rich tapestry of the Blackwood family's life.

There, you will find more than just a story; you will find a mirror reflecting the complexities of the human experience. Shirley Jackson's masterpiece is a journey that promises to haunt, to challenge, and to enchant.

It is a tale that will stay with you, as it has with me, long after the final page is turned. In it, you will uncover layers of meaning, find whispers of your own fears and dreams, and perhaps come to understand that the castle you build around yourself can be both a sanctuary and a place to welcome the world.

With this, dear reader, I bid you farewell, leaving you with the hope that my story has touched you, that in my reflections, you have found a kinship, and that you carry forward a newfound wisdom into the unfolding story of your life. Yours in shared solitude,Mary Katherine Blackwood