What I remember most when we walked through the door of the house was the smell. It was like someone had poured water all over every inch of woodwork within the home and let it sit there for hundreds of years. I guess it made sense, even moving through the house everything felt kind of damp and moldy. I wondered why on earth we were even in the house. I knew I had to say something soon or I would go crazy.
Mom…Why are we here?
She had been walking in front of me carrying her bag. She stopped and turned around slowly.
Honey, I know you won’t fully understand. But your father and I were going through some really tough times. I just needed to get away. And I wanted you away from him. Who knows what he would’ve done if we had stayed the week.
I nodded my head, but responded, I know that mom. I was talking about this house. Why in particular are we in this house? It’s old and it’s gross and we could have just checked into a hotel.
She sighed heavily and shook her head.
We couldn’t afford to stay in a hotel sweetie, we’re almost broke as it is already. I just remembered driving by here, and I knew no one was living here, so I figured we could just come live here for a little while. I just need to sort myself out and then we can go from there.
I knew she had a lot on her mind, so I wasn’t going to push it. She then disappeared into one of the rooms. I figured then that I would explore the house and give her some space to grieve or whatever it was she needed to do. We were gonna be living there for a while so I just wanted to get familiar with the surroundings. If I didn’t, once it got dark, I’m pretty sure it would get straight up terrifying.
As suspected, the smell inhabited through the house like an unwelcome visitor. As I walked down the main hallway away from the front door, I saw a staircase and three doors at the end of the hallway. That was it. There wasn’t a kitchen or anything. That really struck me as strange, why on earth would someone make a house without a kitchen? Now leery, I decided to go up the stairs and see what was up there. The stairs, as expected, were very old, very run down, and inevitably very dangerous. I made a mental note to tell my mom to try to avoid using the stairs. Regardless, I pressed on and crept carefully up the stairs, avoiding the broken panels as best I could. Each step I took resonated through the whole house. It freaked me out. At the top of the stairs, there was a small platform and a door. I moved to open the door, but realized it was locked. I jiggled on the handle for a while, trying to see if the wood would be old enough for me to break the door open. That’s when.
I felt a hand on my shoulder.
I must have jumped three feet out of my skin before I turned around and realized it was my mom.
“Come on honey, let’s go have something to eat.”
She motioned down towards the first floor, but as I walked out the front door all I could think about was how freaky that house was. And why was that door locked?
