The next morning, Leslie returned to the house. "You don’t seem so creepy in the daylight," she said to no one in particular.
After she made a few mental notes of what needed to be done in the yard, she called a maintenance man to meet her. Leslie then went to the front porch only to find the front door open.
She figured she forgot to close it after all the previous night and went into the house. The entry was just as she remembered, so she continued toward the back of the house into the kitchen.
"Definitely a remodel," she thought when she spied the hideous avocado green appliances that were popular in the 70s. She pulled open a drawer noting a bit of resistance.
The drawer was still filled with flatware from the previous owners. She couldn’t believe it. She pulled open a few more drawers to find more belonging of the deceased family.
She made a mental note to call the seller to see if they wanted any of these things before heading back toward the front door and the stairs.
The sunlight shining through the front door glinted off specks of dust that circulated in the air and her movements raised more dust making the air thick and chalky. She grasped the banister and placed her foot on the first tread of the stair. The stairs creaked and popped in protest of her weight.
She walked carefully up the stairs, not just because of fear of them giving way, but also remembering the horrendous crime that had taken place in the bedrooms. The stairs creaked louder with each step, but eventually she reached the second floor.
The stairs opened on to a long hallway; two doors on the right, one door on the left. The floor was made of wide wood planks lit by the light from a single window at the far end of the hall. The walls’ light blue paint peeled off in sheets, the plaster crumbling underneath it. Her years in real estate made her to recognize that there was a water leak, but that was to be expected in a house that had been abandoned for so many years.
Leslie approached the door on the left. It opened on a large master bedroom. Sunlight streamed in through the windows and threadbare curtains. Like the downstairs, it was fully furnished with the exception of the bed which had no mattress. But the room still had the dresser, night stands on both sides of the bed with old matching lamps, even clothes in the closets.
Leslie noticed a man’s watch on one night stand and an old style clock radio; the clock permanently displaying 3:20. It was as if the people had just stepped away from the house.
She noticed another door and there found a small bath. It was typical of an old house that had been remodeled. The previous owners had had to squeeze in the bath where they could. The bath was adequate with old fixtures attached to a single sink, but she knew it would never sell in the current market.
While she inspected the bath, Leslie heard a crash from the master bedroom. She rushed back into the room to see that one of the lamps lay smashed on the floor.
She couldn’t figure out what had caused the lamp to fall, but she felt ting of fear creep into her heart. She wanted to finish up and get out of the house.
She repeated the tour across the hall where she found two bedrooms in similar condition; still with furniture and clothes, but no mattresses. Between the two bedrooms, there was another bath for those rooms to share.
Leslie, startled by a voice calling out from downstairs, remembered the maintenance man, Nick, she called earlier. She called out to him as she carefully descended the rickety old stairs.
(cont)
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