"Let's go over this one more time," the woman in black said. "You and your brother were in the basement when you first heard the noise."
"Yes."
"You thought it was the cockatiel."
"And it was."
"You ran upstairs—"
"And there was smoke coming out from the room," I finished her sentence.
"Once you got in, you saw your Grandpa," she said. "But more importantly, you found the funeral cards."
"I don't want to hear this anymore!" I vociferated.
"Your brother—he is suffering from trauma. If there's any hope to find out what happened, it is with you," she said, getting up from her seat and slamming her hands on the table. "So why don't you get your shit together, eh?"
The interrogation room was dim except for the jaundiced light from the hanging lamp above our heads. A CCTV camera with a red dot was pointing at my face like a gun from the top left corner of the room. The wall in front of me read THERE IS NO TIME LIMIT ON ATTORNEY INTERVIEWS.
"Now—where were we?" she said.
"The funeral card."
"The name was Kate McClendon—your Mom. And the date of death was nineteenth of July, which was yesterday."
"Yes."
YOU ARE READING
UMBRA
HorrorAmidst the colossal redwoods lies the small town of Dorick. Most of it seems ordinary, having a typical morning buzz and people keeping to themselves. But the town has its share of stories and secrets - and the ones who know it are cursed with its k...
