Chapter 2 - Photographs
Submitted October 29, 2006 Updated October 29, 2006 Status Complete | short story narrated in the first person. Susan is a woman haunted by a dark secret that has locked itself away in the chambers of her mind only to resurface every night in the form of a terrifying dream.
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Chapter 2 - Photographs
Chapter 2 - Photographs
The key scrapes in the lock. Silently I push the door open. My eyes take in the hallway. A carpet of dust, inches thick, coats dark wooden floorboards, festoons of cobwebs cover every surface and small, sliver framed, black and white, photographs hang at varying angles on the wall, the wallpaper faded and peeling slightly, dark brown stains of damp clearly visible. I stride swiftly across the floor, my footsteps muffled, and into the dark, musty living room. This room is in even more of a state of decay than the hallway. My eyes travel over the armchairs and sofa, moth-eaten and threadbare, a small, round coffee table, infested with woodworm and an open chest of drawers. Here, as in the hallway, is littered with photographs, well she had been something of a fanatic; they cover every inch of bare wall or unused surface. One picture in particular draws my eye; I lean to get a better look. And my heart jolts with fear.
*The roar of a waterfall. A face shining with excitement, full of warm, friendly laughter, changing with horrible speed to fear, utter terror…*
She stares back at me. Faded, yet still seeming so full of life. I replace the photograph. My heart is thudding, like a hammer upon an anvil. The shock of seeing her there smiling and yet knowing she can smile no more. It's stupid I know, but all the same.
I walk over to the open chest of drawers and start to sort through the contents. Like everything the chest and the few of the objects inside were draped in spider webs, like a silvery shawl. In the topmost drawer I find a handful of paper and an inkbottle, placing them on one side, I proceed to the next; I find nothing of interest until the very bottom of the chest, reaching inside I pull out a wad of crumpled letters and photographs. I heave a great hacking cough and sneeze as a cloud of dust billows into the air; I turn my attention to the photos. I smile to myself I had no idea she'd kept them, all this time. The first shows two girls one, the taller, myself and the other, her. We both have our hair, mine silver blond; hers ebony black, tied back it long strait plaits held with a scarlet ribbon and dressed in identical, grey, gymslips, thick woolly tights and matching blue boots. Our first day at secondary school, we almost looked like twins, in fact most people had always assumed we were sisters, one was never seen without the other. A lone tear trickles down my cheek and lands with a soft splash on the picture. Rubbing furiously at my eyes, I stuff the pictures roughly back into the drawer, what did it matter anyway, it didn't not now.
*A hand reaching out, from the foaming broil mine drawing nearer to clasp it, tears pouring down my face. Her, desperate, screaming, pleading…*
*The roar of a waterfall. A face shining with excitement, full of warm, friendly laughter, changing with horrible speed to fear, utter terror…*
She stares back at me. Faded, yet still seeming so full of life. I replace the photograph. My heart is thudding, like a hammer upon an anvil. The shock of seeing her there smiling and yet knowing she can smile no more. It's stupid I know, but all the same.
I walk over to the open chest of drawers and start to sort through the contents. Like everything the chest and the few of the objects inside were draped in spider webs, like a silvery shawl. In the topmost drawer I find a handful of paper and an inkbottle, placing them on one side, I proceed to the next; I find nothing of interest until the very bottom of the chest, reaching inside I pull out a wad of crumpled letters and photographs. I heave a great hacking cough and sneeze as a cloud of dust billows into the air; I turn my attention to the photos. I smile to myself I had no idea she'd kept them, all this time. The first shows two girls one, the taller, myself and the other, her. We both have our hair, mine silver blond; hers ebony black, tied back it long strait plaits held with a scarlet ribbon and dressed in identical, grey, gymslips, thick woolly tights and matching blue boots. Our first day at secondary school, we almost looked like twins, in fact most people had always assumed we were sisters, one was never seen without the other. A lone tear trickles down my cheek and lands with a soft splash on the picture. Rubbing furiously at my eyes, I stuff the pictures roughly back into the drawer, what did it matter anyway, it didn't not now.
*A hand reaching out, from the foaming broil mine drawing nearer to clasp it, tears pouring down my face. Her, desperate, screaming, pleading…*
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