Memories Of The Mourning

• Julia Adams , Grade 10
• Short Story
• 2022

A dark, daunting, deserted, house sat tall on a hill all alone overlooking the town. Word has it that an old ghost-like woman lives there but no one has ever seen her, they have only heard her shrieks that echo through the town at eleven o’clock every night. The overgrown thorny bushes rule over what was once believed to be luscious gardens and pristine lawns, old desolate bones of a creature lay in the front yard attached to a rusty chain. The rocking chair mounted on the porch squeaks with every rock, the faintly whitewashed house layered with dust creaks and moans with the breeze and the dim porch light flickers as the house moves.

An hour before midnight on Friday the 13th of May 1965. It was the most frightening experience known to history. I was 10 when it happened, but I have never forgotten. Every time I close my eyes, I see it as if it was only yesterday. I still remember the news reporters on the staticky old black and white televisions crackling trying to tell the world of the inexplicable event that occurred earlier that day.

"Good evening, I am Christine Kade reporting live from the town of Wigston. Where a tragic explosion occurred earlier this morning. It is unclear as to how many victims were taken by the jaws of life today, but the numbers are believed to exceed the thousands."

These words repeatedly play through my mind. Remembering that I was only meters away from the explosion. The sight of the old mysterious house fills my mind with horrific memories. Walking through the many rows of beds, cradling those who were convicted by heaven. The mourning for those lost haunted the town for years. The house was left looming over the town as the townspeople believed that knocking the building down would anger the spirits who still roam the halls of the lonely building.

Walking up to the daunting building, my skin begins to crawl as I hear the shrieks emerge. The menacing arched doors groaned in pain as I pushed them open, revealing rows and rows of empty beds which once cradled the deceased. As I glance across the room, I notice an eerie blue light flickering in the shadows. Edging myself closer to the mysterious light the doors slammed shut locking me in. A slender black figure ghosted across the room, too tall to be any normal person, sheer animal instinct sent me sprinting towards the doors that had only moments ago sealed me into this godforsaken place. Barely breaking the sprint, I gave the doors one almighty shove, but they didn’t budge. The impossibly tall black figure crept towards me one step at a time. Shoving the door with all my might I began to panic, it wouldn’t move. The figure vanished for a split second until I turned to give the door one last shove, leaving me inches away from the face of the creature.