The house on willmore lane

The Journal

The houses dwindle here, everything is crashing down, abandoned, forgotten, that's all this place is to be now.

just pain and misery, I'm the only one who can here the tears, feel the ash, the heat from the nukes that crashed upon the ground that day.

Willmore used to be the most popular village in the district, but since the bombing of 1941 it's been reduced to rubble and left to rot along with the memory's of all who lived here.

But not me, I'll never forget, because some of the strongest serving men passed here, including my great grandfather.

My name is Andy brown, today is December first 2022, it's a chilly day with a refreshing breeze.

I'm heading down to the old home of my great grandparents on willmore lane, it's rather quiet out, no ghosts to talk to.

'I suppose there all inside today- oh god some basterds spray painted the memorial again, I'll have to clean that later' I thought to myself.

I kicked the disgusting spray can and threw it in the trash

"dirty buggers" I mumbled in disgust. 

"you alright there love?" A friendly voice spike to me.

"Who- oh it's just you John (John it a ghost of a milkman, he's a rather friendly and kind spirit) yes, I'm doing just fine John, how is gipsy? (Jispy is jhons cat)"

"she's good" the milkman smiled. "a bit upset she can't catch the mice though, I best get going, those pesky gang to teens are back, I'm going to go spook them so they stop tagging the milk shop. be safe in that old house, the floorboards are getting creakier by the day" he finished as he bagan turning to head back to the milk shop.

"Okay John! Be safe! now where was I..ah yes! I should get going house" I remembered and ran to the old house.

'here we are' i thought to myself as I opened the door as it creaked, I have missed this place.
to the tacky old fashioned wallpaper to the portraits of my great grandfather Danial Seabaine, he was a good man.

I turned to the staircase i'm cautiously walked up the stairs.

There it was the old study- gosh it's was getting dusty in there.
"don't worry grandad Danial, I've almost got enough money to fix this place up, mom says if I work hard enough this can be my place when I grow up, and dad is gonna help...why...why haven't you been around for six month" I spoke in hopes of him answering.

Then I heard a thud on the floor and I jumped. I moved closer to the object to inspect what it was.

I crouched down to find a leather journal that closed with a brass clip. It has scratches on it, like claws. As if something were defending itself against the book.

I opened it, surprisingly no dust, but it hundreds of dairy entries. I flipped back to the first page and began to read:

may 1st 1939 dearest Andrew, my darling son, hopes are looking bleak for England during this time, I may get drafted if things don't improve, and if that happens, and I die and don't return to you, I want you and your future children to know the truth of this world.

As children once we reach a certain age we are expected to no longer need silly things like the joy of magic and fantasy. But Andrew, the reality of these stories are all to real, and I have made a huge mistake I need you to help me undo.

When I was a young lad I was naive and stupid, I didn't understand how much my actions could harm those around me, when I first found out magic I was afraid.

You see I was just a young lad and I was running through the bushes and I heard giggling through the bushes, knowing how much you love it when I tell you stories you would have loved it.

I peaked my head through a bush and what I saw was bewildering, there were fairies dancing, I befriended them, they showed me there village.

That night I ran to tell my father, his eyes narrowed and he began to yell at me about the evils of magic. And how I was trusting demonic beginnings.

After a few weeks may feelings turned sour towards my new friends. I thought they had tricked me into trusting them. My Farther's lies made me feel betrayed.

So..I devised a plan, I learned there magic and turned it against them. I created a magical prison, a journal that would trap the souls in there until I opened it again.

Once the spell had been done I regretted it, but it was too late, I've been trying to reverse the magic for years- but it won't work.

Please, help undo the harm I've done - dad

'Andrew- that's my grandfathers name...but why is that in there?' I questioned to myself as puzzled as ever.

"Maybe you should ask your oh so amazing grandfather." A female voice spat at me...