Dust to dust.
Ashes to ashes.
May I be the only thing that continues to thrive in this once loved and proud Victorian home. Who has most definitely seen better days. Who had once had the privilege to hear the laughs of many but has seen the pain of...
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
I was correct that they would forget the events in the upcoming weeks. Mistaking it as just the house being very old or the fact that an ever growing list of problems that were popping up through the wood works. In those weeks I've secluded myself in the attic, only because I was very afraid that they would come and go into the room that I was going to coop myself in.
When the sun was up they rarely left the company of the house. Something I've found to be very annoying, however during the night it was quite better. Well if you could count the silence being broken every couple of minutes by bodily sounds. I was quite excited in the beginning but by now I was quite depressed with this family.
There are moments that I do find humorous, with Gabriel, Luke and Marc- who on some occasions participates- with the suffering of their brothers. These very things are what make the isolation and loneliness manageable. Their mischievous personalities are what make the house a little more lively compared to the dead silence that I find myself sorting my thoughts in which seem to carry into these men as well.
On more than on occasion I would also participate with these pranks. Which would equal in their the three men getting into trouble with whoever was subjected to my misery or themselves for ruining their own prank. Usually I would be regretful as I do not wish to create fights between them. However, this family is quite peculiar as they solve these problems with "family meetings".
I have seen these meetings take place since the first week they settled here. It was something new that I had yet to witness, yet it was quite effected to dispense the bad blood that was flourishing or so I choose to interpret.
The opening of a door with the noise of an alarm clock exploding in one of the rooms on the second floor shifted me out of another endless train of thoughts. The croaks and creaks of the floor boards crying out from the weight as the person steps over obstacles- such as broken floor boards- to reach the end of the hall. Seems as if the night has passed over again in such a hurry. I ran my fingers against the dusty wood beam as I drew shapes to pass the time before the day truly began.
Considering that I have absolutely nothing to do besides stalk my companions or dwell in nothing and everything that I call a mind. Well, their are other things that I could busy myself in my home, such as looking at their things in the attic or stepping out into the garden which has started to sprout weeds and bundles of rose bushes. I chose the latter for today as I don't seem that comfortable to poke and prude in others things but sooner or later curiosity was going to stick its vile fangs and tempt me to take a look.
Only a few men were up. Marc who was hunched over the coffee pot with a tall man who sported long locks of charcoal that emphasized his cloudy obsidian eyes which shined against his beautiful bronze colored skin. Adding to that was the company of another man who was dressed in a white collared button up with black formal pants that contrasted his creamy pale skin, chestnut hair and his striking molten silver obs. The room felt like it was suffocating with power and respect. It was a nostalgic feeling, one that my father sported before I turned my back on him.
