Chapter 7: Piece of Shit

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As I stood waiting for an answer, the wind picked up, howling while it beat the loose shirt around my body. The noises along with the sudden chill were akin to every cliche warning in every ominous movie scene out there.

An old joke exaggerates how quickly the mind jumps to deeper meaning behind small and simply explained occurrences, yet despite understanding how true that was, that's exactly what my brain did.

Perhaps it was due to my most recent attempts at approaching paranormal matters with a certain amount of rationale, but I began to over-analyze the situation. Standing alone in a graveyard, especially one in a foreign place, could give a quite creepy vibe on its own.

Adding to that the unsettling encounter with the shadow person and the premise under which I was in Daytonsville in the first place, kept me eerily torn between reiterating that wind is just wind and considering that something was trying to communicate danger to me.

I lifted a fist and pounded on the door more adamantly. Another minute passed without response so I casually turned and surveyed the area. Was it just me or was it already getting dark? No, probably only becoming overcast, which would explain the sudden breeze as well.

Shifting on my feet to face the house again, I decided to jiggle the handle. If it was in business, then maybe it was open and whoever was inside was working and couldn't hear me. The knob rotated easily, loosely enough to feel like the metal would fall to the ground the instant my touch was removed.

Carefully letting go, I pushed the entry open and stuck my head inside. Pitch blackness greeted me; I could barely even make out the presence of furniture. I guess the door was broken after all. First thought was to close it and leave; the one that soon followed was to venture further and see what happened.

Probably a poor decision, but I crept around the door to the inside and pulled it to where it was almost shut. Satisfied with the line of light reaching through its crack, I reached into my pocket to retrieve my cell phone. Flicking the screen on and finding the flashlight app, I shone it around the room. Everything seemed old and slightly dusty, yet in good repair nonetheless.

A long wooden counter rested a few paces forward with a vase of what appeared to be fake chrysanthemums, along with a standing portrait. The walls were decorated with several matching frames, some of which were empty and others contained pictures of families, couples, and individuals: all dressed in black. Outside of that, there were three armchairs arranged in no particular pattern.

Slowly spinning, I searched the walls for any sort of light switch, finally finding it behind the bar. I stared oddly at it for a second before deciding it best I not illuminate the scene any more. If I wasn't supposed to be here, I didn't want to draw attention to myself, not that I expected anybody to come along.

Continuing to survey the area, I discovered a second room to the side in much the same fashion as the first: photographs, armchairs, and a single table with nothing upon it. Keeping my light aimed toward the ground, I returned to where I had entered. Was that other building even attached to this one on the inside?

There didn't appear to be anywhere else to go. With a heavy sigh, I strode back to the counter and studied the photo accompanying the cheap flower replica. I noticed then that it was extremely old. It might have even been from a time when photography had been initially introduced.

It was a blurry, off-center representation of a man and a woman standing side by side, yet without any hint of familiarity. Much like a lot of old portraits, their posture was stiff and their expressions were apathetic to the point of disdain. In the background was the building where I stood except without the newer metal structure beside it.

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