Return Home | Triple Treat Halloween 2022 | Short story

"Return home"

Tantalising, a growing and overwhelming feeling of consumption, remorse, and puzzlement. One that caused Amalie to virtually shudder as her eyes desperately studied the contents of the document, assembling small words and comments sporadically. Eager, she searched for one particular, specific name. Only allowing herself to take a breath when the wooden chair of the occupant opposite her, collided with the floor below. Deeply, maintaining the tension of the room, hands clammy as they retained their grasp on the sheet. Throat ravenously clasped on the air it depended on, practically begging for relief as she finally located her name, littered in the many words amongst the sheet. Amalie had never expected much when her father's lawyer arrived at her doorstep. Even the announcement of her inclusion in her father's will itself had come as a surprise.

He was a bitter man, callous and uncaring. Recognised by both Amelie and her mother, whose anguished escape had never been enough to remain sane. The many years under the capture of Mr Auger had cost her mentality, now residing in a mental institute on the outskirts of London. It left Amelie resentful, garnering her loss of both parents.

It was then, everything began to drown, sink into the depths of chaos that had always consumed the Auger family, Amelie included. She had never considered the departure of her mother would be the final thing to send him off the edge, light the flame that would begin his pilgrimage of persisting arson. Metaphorically of course.

But as she read the line addressed to her, Amalie was once reminded why she so desperately ran from the name that followed her first.

'The Pembrokeshire property is renounced to Amalie.'

Young when she left, Amalie had never witnessed the true satanist her father was. Only was she rekindled with this fact as the metal door, gradually dragged across the wood below it, floorboards grinding, reminded Amalie just how long it had been since her return to this house. Her mind raced as she took in the summer house she once adored now deserted, along with any fond memories it once garnered. Childhood had been replaced by what she could only describe as a satanic headquarters, crimson scagged drapings ran along the carved walls, same ones that once held family portraits were now replaced with horrid beings. stairs that she once chased her brothers down aligned with candles, thickly coated with dust, and boards missing in some places.

Amalie could imagine that for some, seeing one of their childhood homes, would be nothing short of heartbreaking. Those people who hadn't known the monster that raised her, couldn't conceive how a heartless childhood could prevent such deserving emotion, and were never worthy of their opinions on the situation. On HER situation. That's how Amalie looked at it, a particular sentiment that was maybe more compelled than she would ever like to admit.

A shiver crawled across Amalie's spine, the draft continuously spread through the house, without the warmth of the fireplace that she once would usually have found lit, sporadic flames consuming the oxygen she shared, the same that felt all-consuming as she caught sight of a tree, one with baubles, or what used to be, gathered below. The small remnants could remind others that there was once a life to be lived here. People once called this derelict a 'home'. Reminded her how abandoned houses tell a story. Even if the story is not documented in history, each abandoned home gives a glimpse into a life once lived.

Her weight forced upon the unworthy carpets, the foundations squealing as Amalie took her bag from upon her shoulders, searching through her assorted clothes for the box of matches she was convinced she had packed. Fortunate to fall on them before her patience had been lost, eventually leading to her pulling everything once neatly organised out.

Her hand swiped the match, flames pouring from the tip as they collided with the oxygen, frantic for consumption. Amalie couldn't help the smile that developed when she considered the comparison between her father and the fire she possessed. Both alike sucked the existence from those around them, all in order to survive. Thoughts looping as she considered the plausibility of survival when one does not possess a life worthy of such.