Historically Inaccurate

🌥 O N E 🌥

There is a fifty percent chance I will go to jail because of this.

Is this a good idea? No it's not; it's a stupid idea. 

Am I aware it's a stupid idea? Why yes I am. This just shows what a big idiot I am, but don't blame me, blame the also stupid system of societies and their inaugurations -- at least the one in Westray's Community College where you don't need sororities or fraternities to initiate the idiotic behaviors amongst their students.

The door handle clicks and lets me turn it, telling me that the key they gave me was, in fact, the key for the house. This raises two slightly worrisome questions: Why does Anna have a key to a random neighborhood house? And the most important one: Why do the people at the History Club want a fucking fork?

Granted, they might want an old fork, and, I mean, you'd expect an old house to have old, valuable forks, but they weren't that specific. They just told me to get a fork from their kitchen, take a selfie while I was getting it, and then get out of the house — with the fork, of course. All of that to get into the club. It's not even a nationally recognized club, but if it fills space in my resume I'm willing to take the chance.

The Winston's house is not the fanciest, just the oldest, in our town. It's a two-story house, made out of sturdy wood and with a sloped roof, reminiscent of early twentieth-century architecture. Mrs. Winston has a pretty big garden planted in front of her house, although I was not aware that it extended to the back of it as well. She's well into her eighties, so her energy and vitality for gardening always surprised me. I don't know much about them aside from their love for plants and outdoor decoration, my father and I lived in their neighborhood for a while — that was before dad and I had to move from a house to one of the few apartment neighborhoods from the town.

I shake my head, trying to concentrate on the task at hand. If I wasn't being lied to by Anna, the club president, the Winstons go to sleep pretty early, and if the pitch darkness of their corridor does not mean they are asleep, I hope it also doesn't mean they're lying dead somewhere on the floor.

My phone buzzes inside my jeans and I nearly screech in the darkness.

Anna: You've been standing on the same spot for like an hour. Are you doing this or not?

Well, fuck man, do you want to share half of the time that I get in county jail if I get caught? I think, glaring at my phone and simply turning it off. She can think whatever she wants, I'm taking my sweet time doing this if it means I won't leave the property handcuffed. 

I mean, college kids always do stupid stuff like this, right? Besides, white guys always get away with much worse stuff anyways, I should be okay. Forget the fact that I'm not even a white guy — or white for that matter.

I'm so fucked, so terribly fucked.

Straightening up, I hold up the small flashlight I brought with me, the hallway coming to life with portraits of people I don't know. The narrow hall leads to a small living room where more pictures and a couple of plants adorn nearly every surface possible. A fat cat is sleeping on one of the couches, and it actually perks up when I slowly step around the sofas, though it simply goes back to sleep like nothing happened.

The house itself simply smells like old people. I can't describe that perfectly, go visit your grandparents or (in case they're no longer with you) a local retirement home, and you'll understand. They'll appreciate the company, too.

The living room is connected to a dining room via a small foyer that also faces the stairs, which composed the side of the hallway I just walked through. The dining room consists of a table with six chairs and a small fruit bowl with fake fruit in the middle of it. An archway leads to the kitchen, where yellow predominates as a color, a vase of what appears recently cut sunflowers rest on the smaller table, and the counters are all pristinely cleaned. Not even when Dad and I both clean the house at the same time does it end as clean as this place.