The house looked fine on the outside. It's vibrant flowers playfully tangling in and out of cracks and crevices. There was an old woman who lived there, and I haven't seen her come out lately. In fact, it's been so long that I'm starting to wear a shawl of concern for the poor lady. I slowly approach the front door. Deep breath. The flowers smelled wonderful, almost blissful.
Knock Knock
There is no reply except for the wood's formal knocking sound.
"Mrs. Robinson?"
I called politely. There was no reply except for the wind swishing about.
I turn the knob, and to my surprise, the door creaks open. I've never been inside Mrs. Robinson's house before, and to be honest, I'm not sure if anyone has been inside this house except for her. I gazed upon the living room. It was slightly dusty and a little out of order, but manageable. I find myself wandering into her kitchen. I open the fridge, curious as to what she might eat. I pull out a dainty container, and then I open it up. The stench hit my nose, and the lid crashed down and fell into millions of shards. I stare, horrified, at the rotten abomination before me. What was once possibly meat, is now molded over and crawling with maggots. Trying to not throw up my own stomach, I exit the room as quickly as possible. I gather my composure and continue onward, going upstairs. There's only one room upstairs, and I can only assume that it must be her's. I knock one last time, just to be polite.
"Mrs. Robinson?"
I slowly open the door, fear of what I might find. Mrs. Robinson lays on the bed, completely motionless. Stiff. Chills crawled throughout my body, leaving it an icy tundra. The horrid aroma protruding from her body was far worse than what I had witnessed just a bit ago. I approach her, as I'm attempting not to gag. Thousands of tiny bugs were crawling all over the crevices and cracks of her body. I shudder. I glance around the room, taking in everything completely. My chest feels heavy, there's a sickness in my stomach that just won't leave. I back out of the room, and back down the stairs. From then on I ran.
Ran from that day.
Ran from the past.
Ran from the memories that haunt me.
