The Watcher's House - FVK

7

"Do you even know that guy?" Kier stood over me as I had placed a flower on a grave marked "Bryan Mulligan".
"Nope but it doesn't hurt to be nice sometimes, Kier. Not that you would know" I got up and he jabbed me in the side for my comment. I was used to it. I wouldn't be surprised if my whole ribcage was severely bruised.
"Why are we even hanging around here, Laur, it's boring"
"I find it peaceful" I walked around the small graveyard, gently stroking the tops of some of the stones.
"You're not normal" Kier shook his head, jumping up on the brick wall at the entrance of the yard.
"What is normal Kier? Tell me what you class as normal" I glanced at him. His face showed an expression of deep thought. I directed my gaze towards the house on the hill. I longed to know what was inside that place. A stone landed at my feet.
"Laurence!" Kier shouted, I shook my head quickly and looked to him. "Jesus fuck, what's up with you?"
"Who taught you language like that?"
"I'm not a little kid anymore. I'm thirteen" He swung his legs forward and back like a child would be before they could just touch the floor. "Anyway, don't avoid my question. What's up?"
"I don't know what you mean"
"I mean you're thirteen and you like hanging out in a graveyard near the place our parents told us countless times to avoid. What are you Laur?" I didn't know how to answer. Kier jumped off the wall.
"I'm going home, I suggest you come too"
"Yeah, I'll be there..."

I drove up the long dirt driveway to my new house. It was longer and more twisted that it looked from afar.
"No wonder he rarely came down to town" I muttered to myself. Would I become like him? No, I could never murder anyone.

The house was more eerie up close. And a lot bigger. The watcher hadn't taken very good care of the place, I must say. The white paint around the window frames was peeled and greyed. The door handle was riddled with rust and dirt. The oak wood door wasn't much better. It needed painting. I caught my eye on a red stain at the very bottom of the door. Smiling, I slid the key into the lock. The inside was covered in many years' worth of dust. The furniture was still here. I think the estate agent expected the buyer to want to renovate the place. All I really wanted to look inside the place I had dreamt about since I was young.