I stood there uncertainly. Should I open the door? If my vague memories were all true... then a real horror land lie before me.

I squared my shoulders and stretched my hand to the doorknob. It was cold brass that had a faint tingle to it. I turned it and pushed the door. It resisted opening so I gave it a little kick and it popped open.

The door opened into a pantry. The shelves were filled with bottles of food and the faint smell of spices hung in the air. I grabbed a bottle and wedged it between the door and its sill. I didn't want to risk not finding my way out.

At the front of the pantry was another door. I eased up to it and listened, my heart pounding. I heard nothing so I slowly opened that door and peered into the next room.

It looked like an ordinary kitchen but I knew better. For my last memory of my mother was situated in this very room. Nothing had changed in 15 years except there was no blood on the floor or walls.

I stepped into the kitchen and listened. It was quiet except for the ticking of a clock and the hum of insects outside. The small kitchen had two more doors leading out of it.. one to the outside and one to a living room.
Story IndexNextBackHome