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Historical Fiction Mystery Suspense

Elsie Lynn's mother had passed away in the fall of 1967, and she, being an only child had the weight of her mother's estate on her shoulders. Her husband Herbert, wanted to help her in this endeavor, but she had two rug rats that would never understand, any part of this situation, so he stayed home to tend to their needs. She drove the four miles to the home she grew up in. She could not stop crying during the whole trip. There were unanswered questions, that she had, that will now be forever unanswered. She drove down the long lane that had weeping willows standing in a neat row on both sides of the lane. They seemed also to be in mourning as they were blowing in the breeze. She parked in front of the Two car detached garage. She had arrived, but she delayed entering the house. What was once a welcoming abode that had cheer as an aura around it, had now turned into a sad, lonely looking house. She looked up at the second- floor window of house and the little ceramic dog that stood watch on the windowsill and looked out onto the yard, was now turned around. That 's odd, she thought. She put that thought aside and got out of the car, took boxes out of the trunk, for any paperwork or correspondence that meant anything. As she walked up the sidewalk she passed the victory garden, that her mother had planted to honor her veteran uncle, that never returned from World War II. She ascended the four steps to the Rear Porch and crossed the floor space and unlocked the Kitchen door. and entered. It was the middle of February 1968, and the chill from the outside was nothing compared to the deep freeze of the interior. Despite her numerous layers of clothes, she had to tackle the most important thing first. So as not to lose it, she placed her cell phone on the kitchen table, so it would be the last thing she picked up as she left the house. For now, she entered the office and started opening drawers and shoved papers into the boxes, for looking at them and review would have to wait till she was in her own warm house later and in the laughter of positivity of family. Her grief was hard to shove aside, but she continued. She walked up the enclosed staircase to the second floor and mentally gazed at all that needed to be done and made a note to herself when each of the three bedrooms would be tended to. As she left the North Bedroom, she felt something was off, she could not fathom what it was, she chalked it up to being cold and dismissed it. Then, she remembered that the little dog that had been in the window before, was no longer there, she felt a little warmer than she had five minutes ago. She giggled to her herself. She went back downstairs, where the Master Bedroom was, and into another box she put the many brooches and watches that adorned her mother s blouses and wrists. She felt glad that she was able to gather these things and the memories came swarming back, she laughed out loud. All this activity made her warm, so she shed herself of an outer layer of clothing and put the coat on her mom s bed. She went back to the Kitchen and off to the side in another room was a metal behemoth that took up 'most of the room, it had been hidden behind a sliding wooden door, she almost missed it if not for the old milk can that kept it open, she moved it out of the way. Mesmerized, she sat down on the little wooden four-legged stool, and tried to go through in her mind what this monstrosity was. The sliding door silently edged its way across its track to close, in front of her, and she rose to leave but when she tried to slide it back, it would not budge, and she was covered head to toe with cobwebs from years of hiding in the space of the door. she was getting scared now, now only because she could not slide the door open, but out of the corner of her eye she saw the little ceramic dog, sitting on the floor in front her. She started to freak out, and gave the door one more shove her, giving it a herculean shove but she lost her footing and hit her head on the edge of the metal cream separator, losing consciousness. The hour had gone into the early evening, and Herbert had tried to call. The phone on the kitchen table vibrated with no one answering. he could not wait no longer, he took their children to the next-door neighbors and informing her of where he was going, armed with just a flashlight, he traversed the four miles to his Moher-in-laws house he parked behind his wife's car. He walked past the victory garden, up the steps and into the kitchen. He called out her name, till he was blue in the face. No answer. He searched the whole house, there was evidence that she had been working on what she set out to do, but where was she? It was now dark outside. He was really scared now. So, he called the Police department, for assistance, and Herbert was informed a unit was on the way. Meanwhile, He continue in his search. He saw somewhere that if you rap with your fists on the walls, you can find out if there is a hollow space behind it, so he tried that, he started in the office, no unusual sounds of hollowness there. He then tried the master bedroom, then traveled upstairs. Herbert was coming up with no positive results. He went back to the Kitchen and was almost scared to try the walls here for fear of failing once again. He had to try, so "rapping" on the walls, he was pleasantly surprised when he heard a hollow sound. He almost tripped on the milk can, as he tried to push open the door, but the only "give" to it was a sidewise motion, he then realized it was a sliding door. He lit up the room with the glow of the flashlight and saw his wife lying in a bloody mess in the corner of the room. He rushed to her side and tried to reassure her that help was on the way. The sliding door eased itself back into the position of closing once again. Trapping the couple within. Hours passed and the flashlights beam grew dimmer and dimmer..........................................................

February 04, 2024 04:56

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