The House By Niamh POWER

The house stood alone; impenetrable darkness suffocated it. Not a sound could be heard, not a stir could be seen. The deafening silence made my heart race; it felt unnatural. It was almost as thought everything around me had been cruelly muted. I could feel it's power gagging me. I wouldn't be stifled in again. Not here. Not now. Why was I back in this place?

Looking gravely at the all too familiar windows, I could see the same one remained shattered after all this time. Glassy, jagged shards jutted out of the splintered frame, shooting an intimidating memory across my mind. I winced.

Below the windows, the door hung strangely robust and clean and ill-fitting of the ram-shackled ruins that surrounded it. On closer inspection, curiosity grabbing a hold of me, all else was covered in a thick layer of grid and dust. All except this one thing: the handle. It had been wiped down. I inhaled sharply.

Staggering backwards, I recoiled myself to a safe distance. Crouched, shaking and breathing raggedly, I told myself there was nothing to fear. After the longest time - a final tear rolling down my cheek - blood finally stopped pulsing through my ears. I was proud that I had not fled the scene completely, like I had many years before; I was a much stronger person now. My breathing and thoughts finally returning to normal I looked up. At last, I opened my eyes.

It appeared to be empty. But was it really? Walking around the back of the house, where one of many incidents had occurred, my heart shuddered. The grass was unkempt. Police tape lay tangled in the grass. The same patch of grass. The patch that was still blood stained - bloodstained with my mother's blood. I stood there. New puddles were made in that moment. However this time, instead of puddles of a life ending, I created puddle of tears.

Created By
Mrs Price
Appreciate

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