When I was four I lived a house that had decades of history . The creaky doors and vast hallways were pathways to adventure for me and I loved exploring and playing games in the house .
Behind the house was a Russian veteran graveyard and had outgrown ivy blossoming at each tombstone with foreign letters.
The graveyard was only steps away from the backyard, but was strictly forbidden by my parents.
Inside the house however, were ornaments of various shapes and antiques that had begun to rust, even the cherubs placed in corners of the houses had an inch of dust covering their pouting faces. A furnace was what laid at the bottom of the house. The enormous black hole burnt nothing since we were there, but often had a rotting stench coming from the mouth of the burner.
I could have sworn that once I have heard a cry or plea of help almost.
Now as a adult at the age of 25 I have only come to learn that the house I had lived in was a convert from a morgue
Which had a furnace to cremate the body of the dead.
YOU ARE READING
TALES FROM THE MIND
Short Story**SHORT STORIES** readers beware you're in for a scare... short horror story collections
