Piled up dishes,
Paint flakinge from the windows,
The smell of damp.
No one’s been here in this limbo
Until the century’s breaking
But from above there’s one step,
Then another.
Another ghost hunter or the little brother?
It’s the former
He’s on the stairs
“2 kids,” he said “2 kids died here.”
His EMF in hand is flashing.
At the windows, the rain is lashing.
“2 kids,” he repeats
He sha...