Creepypasta Stories

Fond Memories

It rained over the Rosenberg estate.

A day's worth of packing luggage into the truck and, soon after it left, the clouds arrived. Inside of the several story house, little life was expressed as it once had. The antique clock ticked away, being the only thing making sound for the last three hours. Günther poured himself another shot of brandy, already finished with the bottle set at the mini bar. There was plenty more where it came from and he intended on finishing every last drop.

Wilfried put out the last bit of his cigarette, grinding it into the ashtray, his previous remainders fashioned into a crooked mess of the day. No matter how many he smoked, his hands still shook at the recent news. The only way he could keep them steady was the urge to occupy himself with his psychology book from school. His eyes went through the words, but none of them stuck in his head. It was as if he was reading ripples in a rainstorm, nothing but chaotic lines with so much going on around them.

Despite being only a few years apart, the two of them couldn't be any more different. Günther had made himself into a powerhouse though unrelenting training, the scars and bulging veins on his skin showing the effort he has gone through. Wilfried, on the other hand, took to the books rather than the gym. The muscles in his eyes from shifting left to right were only surpassed in use by the ones in his mouth. But no matter how much he liked to talk, he was stone silent ever since he arrived at the house.

Plucking a fresh cigarette from the krinkled pack, he flicked his lighter over and over again, having trouble to get a flame started. Günther headed back to the chair he'd been slouched in all day, returning to the deep groove his dense body had made. The sound of the lighter continued, followed by the clanking of ice in a glass. Staring over at his brother, Günther's grip tightened on the armrest. Finally, the fire stuck, the clock returning to be the only rythme.

Günther cleared his throat after a nice long sip, deciding to break the ice after such a long and unintentional vow of silence. "You are ruining your lungs, you know."

Smoke came out of Wilfried's mouth as he spoke. "And you are ruining your liver. You never hear me bugging you about it." He lay himself down on the couch, holding his cigarette between his fingers near the ground, the book in his other hand. His unkempt blonde hair fell over his face, having to be brushed aside to avoid catching fire.

Günther rubbed his scruffy beard irritably. "You're barely twenty. Don't you care about your health?"

Wilfried coughed out a laugh, dropping his book onto his chest. "This is coming from a guy who takes punches in the head for a living." Rolling to his side, he looked over at his brother, receiving a glare of disdain. "Please, spare me your hypocrisy. I bet you're only telling me since you want to tell yourself."

Günther set the glass down hard enough to spill its content, standing up aggressively. "Oh, quit acting like you know everything. Just because you go to college doesn't mean you own the place."

Wilfried tilted his head, lifting it off of the decorative cushion. "No... it doesn't. Mother does. And once she returns from her operation, we will go back to our normal lives." With a huff, he lazily rolled onto his back and covered his face with his jacket's sleeve. "To think, she called the both of us, thinking only one would arrive."

Günther's green eyes went cold. "I gave her my word I would help her."

"Well, so did I."

Günther put his hands up, returning to his chair. "I didn't even want to talk to you. I just thought it would be nice to care for once." He took another sip to calm himself, needing it dearly.

"Oh boy, you care about me so much. I'm just tingling inside. Eighteen years of you beating me senseless and on this special day, you decide to care. And you care so much about yourself that if someone put the two of us together, they'd end up with a fully dead body."