The First Time I Feared For My Life

Part 4

I opened my eyes. I stared up at the door handle. My arms were shaking, holding up my body weight. I feared for myself, and I feared for my mother. My back was against the wall between me and the living room. I could feel the sorrow behind me. I had no idea what it was, but I was glad my mom had left. I wanted to leave too, but I stared straight ahead. The silent basement door stared back.

There was a silence – a silence in the house that I had never experienced. Every move I made was amplified by the eerie, unrepentant silence. There was a loud creak in the floorboards as I stood up, a loud hum from the refrigerator in the kitchen, but no more crying, no more footsteps, no dark whispering. Nothing

I slowly crept to the basement door. I knew my dad and grandpa were down there. They had to be, and they were probably waiting at the door, listening to me, wondering what I was doing.

But why had they run up the stairs and stopped?

I was going to find out.

To be continued.


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