The House In The Memories
It’s a chilly day in October with a slight breeze brushing over my skin. I walk up to the gate thinking about the last time I stood in front of this place.It’s pathetic looking with the boards covering the soot stained windows and doors. Half expecting to keep any intruders out. They should have just let it burn to the ground. It’s not like I would have returned after what happened. I remember the day like it was yesterday and here I am trying to find answers.
My palms begin to get clammy, reacting to the reoccurring nightmares and memories about this place. My parents screams of terror as the intruders invaded our house. The sound of nails clawing against the floorboards as I was being dragged away. Forced to watch my parents get murdered as I was left to burn. If it wasn’t for him, I would be dead. But that’s a story for another time.
I start to peal away the boards with my crowbar, half tempted to just smash through the damn things. It takes me about 20 minutes just to get the door open. I take a deep, shaky breath and walk through the doorway. The smell of stale air with a hint of smoke hits my nose. It’s pitch black in here with small hints of the sun streaming through the small cracks of the boards covering the window. It almost feels as though the house itself was hiding from whatever was out there. I get out my flashlight, praying it turns on with the old batteries in it. It flickers on and I begin my search. I’m not really sure what I’m looking for, but I’ll know it when I find it.