The air feels heavy in here, almost like I'm suffocating. I walk up the partially lighted stairs, examining the jagged glass of the window from afar, as a bittersweet memory overcomes me. About 10 years ago, daybreak; the intoxicating aroma of hickory smoked bacon, homemade buttermilk biscuits, creamy sausage gravy, and freshly squeezed orange juice filled my nostrils. My eyes shot open, and I zoomed down the stairs. The memory fades away and I smile softly, remembering how good mother's homemade cooking was. I continue up the stairs until I'm on the second and final floor.
YOU ARE READING
The Story of Arisa Rose
ParanormalneArisa has returned to that damned house full of beautiful yet torturous memories. What will happen to Arisa while she is there?
