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The Fireplace

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I shivered, tapping my foot rapidly against the concrete. The wind and cold were relentless, finding a way to seep in me, freezing every inch of me but that was West Virginia for you. I let out a smoky breath, watching it appear and then disappear quite like an illusion then turn my gaze to the house towering over the others. It was impossible for me to believe this where I once had sat in a oversized room, watching NASCAR with my cousin and brother on a mouse-sized television screen. I walk in, trying to ignore the decayed and tortured exterior but I soon learned the interior was just as damaged. Every bone in the house seemed to moan in pain not accustomed to the constant moving of living beings inside it. My mom told me it was haunted in this house and if you saw it you would agree it would be a perfect hide-out for the restless undead. Dust had settled onto the floor and stairways, distorting the bright colors the wood once was to a musty bleak color. I held in a sneeze as I heard my mom tell me to go back to the car. I did as she said but not before I saw a rat make its getaway from gigantic human feet. When they came back they were carrying a beautiful, wood, fireplace with two carved lions, mouths open ready to defend, on either side of the fireplace. Turns out they had found it barely held to the wall by tacks. The fireplace is now resided in our home.(Not held together by tacks, of course.)




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