Glass House

December 9, 2010
By Anonymous

The floors moaned, cringing away from my every step. I was cold. Not cold from the rainy wind filtering through the broken windows, but from the excitement and terror of what I might find. The growing shadows reminded me that darkness was encircling the antique house, and I needed to be getting home soon.

Soon, but not just yet. I couldn’t leave without exploring the only locked room in the centuries old farmhouse. I slowly ascended the deteriorating staircase, an ominous pathway to the third floor. There were two rooms on the highest story: a small storage closet with boxes of various 19th century accessories, and a locked room enclosed by a heavy cedar door. I intended to open that door, and I was confident that I would have no trouble… with the door that is. The fact that it was the only locked door, or closed door in the house struck me as strange and rather eerie. But me curiosity was getting the best of me, like always.

Cautiously, I stretched out my hand towards the knob. It obviously hadn’t been opened for years, and was riddled with cobwebs. It didn’t budge as I tried to turn it. A sudden burst of wind startled me enough that I lurched backward, falling into the shattered remains of what appeared to be a window. My breathe was jerked out of my chest as a saw a frightened girl gazing back at me. It took me a few minutes to regain my composure before I realized it was my reflection. I wasn’t sure what was getting to me. I was uncharacteristically jumpy. While my body continued to shiver my arm began to feel warm. I lowered my eyes to see tiny red droplets leaking from my wrist. I quickly scurried downstairs to one of the bedrooms, retrieving an ancient looking handkerchief from a dresser drawer; it would have to do for now. Securing it around my wrist, I proceeded up the stairs to resume my mission.
I began noticing the small shards of glass scattered throughout the place. Everywhere I looked there were broken windows, mirrors, and other glass items. I saw bits of my reflection in every corner. The broken house must have some kind of story, I thought. Surely I would find something interesting to tell my friends.

I knelt down on my hands and knees to get a closer look at the lock. Twisting the handle, my heart fluttered faintly to see that the door was unlocked. I was certain that I was not able to budge it before. But I have had a tendency towards a wild imagination… or so I told myself. I stepped back to look at the door, trying to picture what I might find. Taking a deep breath, I opened the door. Dust erupted from the opening. I tried to prepare myself for a ghost or something, but nothing could’ve prepared me for this.
The years of abandonment should’ve been a warning.

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This article has 1 comment.

madm0e BRONZE said...
on Dec. 13 2010 at 9:38 am
madm0e BRONZE, Tucson, Arizona
4 articles 0 photos 28 comments

Favorite Quote:
People say I have no heart, that is not true, I have the heart of a small child. It's in a jar on my desk. -Stephen King

Wonderful ending. The story itself has a gothic feel to it. 


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