She made her way up to the entrance. Broken stairway, with a few steps in front of her. It was badly cracked and you could see animal nests inside. She walked up the first 3 and the door became clearer, dark brown, just as broken as the steps and even less inviting. Making her way right up to it, staring at the small cracks, dents, and scratches.Wondering what could have happened here.
Every flaw created a new emotion, this house could feel and she knew that.
She opened the door and it let out a dense shriek. The moment she stepped in she could feel the whispers, the cries for help between the walls. Every story, every perished dream, and nightmare that ever played out inside the cracked wood and chipped paint of these walls.It was silent, but then with every step you took it the emotion, the fear and sadness become stronger.
One-step and the floor creaks, she knew better than to overthink it, she knew it was a cry for help.
The soul of the house, the souls in the house. They were all calling, for anyone, anything perhaps, to help. But it never came. It never would. This was the house of nightmares.Every family, every spouse, and every child, that ever lived in this home was bound to be destroyed and it could never be helped.
Because in this loud silence, anything can be looked over and ignored, left to die.
YOU ARE READING
House Of Perished Dreams
General FictionStory about a house that holds every emotion of every destroyed family to ever inhabit it. (One shot/ written in 3rd person)
