Opening my eyes, I could sense something was not right. The windows were boarded up and my wife was missing from the bed. I felt slightly relieved as I saw my breakfast on my nightstand. As I was eating, I heard children screaming and crying of desperation and anguish. Springing with sudden energy from my bed, I went to check on Kaci and Grace as the screams sounded like they belonged to them. My daughters were missing!
“Kaci! Grace!” I exclaimed at length, expecting them to be hiding somewhere. No reply was heard. I instantly became anxious–very anxious I had been and still am. Exited the bedroom, and I cautiously walked down the staircase. As I was heading downstairs, I heard a slight groan of terror that sounded familiar.
I went in the front room and I was distracted by the smell I perceived which was loathsome. It was indeed strange that the walls were also boarded up. Nothing I could see as the room was faded with smoke. Disappointed, I made my way to the dining room. All at once, I could feel shivers through my body and I began to conjecture that someone had gone past me.
“Is anyone there?” I said at length, finding my voice, but though I was meant to speak louder, my tones came out in a faint whisper instead, for I had fully lost control of many parts of my mouth. My vision was blurred so I took a step back and stumbled over something. I fell unconscious for what felt like two seconds. Hastily, I got on my feet and started looking high and low for my absent family. I dreaded going into the kitchen as I assumed that my loved ones would be in the last room I was about to check. As slow as a slug, I made my entrance into the cookhouse.
No one. Nothing. I swallowed my feeling of fear and I felt it lubricating through my body. I heard indistinct footsteps from behind coming towards me. As fragile as a leaf, I felt two moderately hot hands placed on my shoulders. At a snail’s pace, I turned the upper part of my body.
My eyes saw the most beautiful yet the ugliest thing I had ever seen during my time living on earth.
St Monica's Creative Writing Blog 