Familiarity

• Nazarene Solis, Grade 9
• Short Story
• 2019

“Look, I’ve got to go,” she mumbled, attempting to balance her phone between the crook of her neck and shoulder. Her fumbling hands were occupied with the heavy cardboard box as she stumbled on the concrete pathway, her short legs failing her with every second.

“The house seems alright, by the way,” Persephone added in before her friend ended the call with a quick farewell and good luck. She dropped the box onto the patio before tucking her phone behind the stitched pocket of her denim overalls. Stretching out her arms, she wiped an escaping droplet of sweat running down her forehead before finding her dangling keys and opening the front door.

Her eyebrows furrowed in confusion as the door creaked wide open, revealing the living room. It didn’t look anything like the picture on the website. It was supposed to look majestic with pearly white walls and large glass windows that allowed the hint of the morning sunshine to escape — giving off a natural light to compliment the splendid interior. The floor was supposed to look squeaky clean, the wooden design sparkling with no sign of any dust floating around.

But that was the opposite of her reality. There was an assemblage of scratches on the stained walls and the wallpaper was peeling off, leaving a pile of rusted paint residue gathered on the floor. The windows were covered with a repulsive curtain filled with ancient floral patterns as they blocked the sun, leaving the room dim and lonely. The floor had random scraps of food wrappings laying on the floor with expiration dates from years ago. Not to mention, there were pieces of furniture lying around, collecting dust. It was far from expectation.

Muttering a series of incoherent words under her breath, she trudged across the living room, eyeing a chair that carried mounts of mould. Dragging herself across the hallway, there was a leak through the ceiling, making an annoying noise that ringed through her ears.

Biting her lip, she opened the door that leads downstairs to the basement. Grunting a quick prayer, she switched on the light as it let out a quick crackle before a muted shine flashed the small room.

Stepping down, the wooden stairs creaked with every step as if she could fall through into oblivion with any second. A sudden gasp left her lips once she reached the bottom and she felt like she was almost blinded. It was atrocious.

It laid lifeless. The head drooped down, the neck almost looking like it could snap off any second. It was pale, the ragged clothes doing no justice as it showed the drained colour of its ripped skin, its bones almost popping out in every corner. Prominent veins bulged out with a scarlet red. One of its eyes were opened halfway, the only thing visible was the sclera with no sign of a coloured iris anywhere.

But what scared Persephone was the familiarity.

It was a body. And it looked like hers.