Secrets of the Wandervall Mansion

CHAPTER TWO: JOURNAL ENTRY #1

I walked out into the narrow halls of Terrence Abbott building. The sweet aroma of strawberries left my nostrils, now a new smell entered them. It overpowered every other smell in the hall: the scent of formaldehyde which came from the funeral service at the end of the hall. I coughed.

“I need to get out of here fast.”

The walls felt as if they slowly inched towards me and the closed doors appeared like barriers, desperate to prevent whatever monster lurks on the other side from breaking out, thin barriers which, at any given moment, might break down.

I quickly ran down the stairs. I felt my heart pound against my chest.

Aside from a few civilians occupied with their phones and their magazines, the hallways were completely empty, void of life. The dim and flickering lightbulbs gave only a small amount of light and with the lack of windows in all sides the whole place looked like it had been spewed out off a Stephen King novel.

The outside of the building is a contrast to the inside. The colourful paintings of flowers and rainbows are a trap, like a candy house inviting people in, only to find out that there is nothing inside but rotting emptiness.

The street, however, is filled with people. It felt more alive. Cars zoomed up and down the streets, yielding when an enforcer instructs them to or when the traffic light flashed red. Pigeons pecked on crumbs left on the streets. Everywhere I looked something is happening.

I inhaled the sweet aroma of coffee and chocolate buns as I walked past a bakery, my stomach grumbling with hunger. I paused by a big dog tied to a pole outside the bakery and gave him a pat on the head. He wore a navy blue tie and a little hat on his head.

‘Hello Dante,’ I greeted the dog and he wagged his tail, leaning his head further towards my hand. ‘Goodbye Dante.’ I waved and walked away.

Dante is owned by the bakery's owner and today she dressed him up like a little sailor. Some people thinks he looked cute with his outfits while some thought it cruel. Dante couldn't be bothered though, I know for a fact he chooses his hat a lot of the times.

‘Look, he's so cute!’ I heard someone rush over to Dante. I looked back to see a trio of high schoolers crowded around the dog and are now taking pictures with him.

I smiled to myself and turned back to the road.

After walking for what felt like hours, I finally reached my crampy apartment which I share with two dogs and a cat. My brothers chose to live by themselves across the globe with their wives and their children. I receive a call from them every day, at night. But last night I didn't receive any, and so did the past night, and the night before that. I assumed they were just busy judging by what they do in their jobs. A teacher and a factory worker.

I opened the door and a blue Siberian husky howled before rushing towards me.

‘Alright. Now calm down. I know I'm home,’ I said to Padraig, my husky.

He ignored me and began to scream.

“Why did I agree to take care of you.”

Stan on the other hand, sulked in a corner, not looking up from his water bowl. Stan appeared on our doorway one sunny afternoon. I wanted to name him Sebastian, but terrible flashbacks of horrible nightmares flooded back every time I mention the name, so I had to shorten his name to Stan.

I threw my coat on the couch then turned on the TV, the news blared on. The distraught face of the blonde reporter showed on TV. The headlines read in bold letters:

“TWO DEAD IN A SHOOTOUT IN JOHNSON CITY UNIVERSITY”

‘Police are on the look-out for an armed man who was believed to be under the influence of drugs. The man is wearing a red leather jacket, brown hoodie underneath and black baggy pants. He has a red cap on and his face was stained with dried blood,’ the reporter said, staring blankly into the camera. ‘The man, as described by a witness was also wearing a surgical mask and was only wearing gray socks and no shoes. Please inform the authorities if you know his whereabouts.’