Chapter Eighteen

I want you to picture how our house currently looked. Most of the times, it seemed that darkness had fallen over it. The sun had tried its hardest to push the darkness from the away, but it seemed as if it was part of the house. It did not have the typical ‘haunted house’ look about it. Dad had put in lamps along the front, just to make it more welcoming. Also, to scare aware any unwanted creatures that had decided to lurk around. I spent the summer sulking around. Who would want to spend their summer in the countryside? Who would want to leave their friends behind, just so that it suited their parent’s careers? Then there was the fact that we weren’t sure how long we were going to stay here for. No electricity, one bathroom, and darkness.

But now, I decided to take a closer look at the house. I wanted to get everything over and done with before I started school. To sum up, we were living in an old fashioned house. It had a large metal gate, with some interesting looking statues. Our garden was huge, but like everything else, it needed looking into. It needed trimming. However, I planned to tick it off my list at one point.

I loved the staircase. It was wide, and the panels were definitely handcrafted. The carpets were naturally worn out, as were the wall papers. I was a basically living in a book. An old story will have secret passages, and I had found it.

I had reached the room. Lifting the lamp, I carefully walked in. I couldn’t remember where I had dropped the lamp, last night. There were probably 5 tables thrown in, along with some cabinets. Oh I don’t really know. The room was simply pact with paintings and furniture. The boy’s painting was back. I refused to give into my imagination, ignoring all the questions that were banging in my head, I made my decision. Today, no one would stop me from uncovering it. It was just this strange feeling. When it hung downstairs, it just seemed normal. Now, it looked like something was hidden beneath the covers. Again, I use the word ‘darkness’.

I pulled off the covers to reveal the painting inside. It looked different. Closer look at the child, he looked sad. Not the happy little boy that stood looking down at us, downstairs. I moved closer to look at the face. His eyes were still closed. I lifted my hand to touch the face and leaned closer.


I suddenly turned towards the voice.

‘Jamie,’ I let out a deep breath. ‘What are you doing here?’

‘I could ask you the same thing, Kelly. So you finally uncovered the painting?’ His monotone worried me. ‘How long did it take you to build up the courage to do one simple task?’

Was he mocking me?

‘Jamie, what are you doing here?’ I decided to ignore his questions.

‘I followed you. I have been waiting for you to uncover the painting,’ he simply stated. He wasn’t looking at me. Rather, his eyes were focused on the painting behind me.

I tried to read his face. He was getting confusing by the day, but truth be told, so was I. I would be surrounded by books, but I was standing here with a lamp. A lamp that I did not trust at all.

‘Jamie, why did you follow me? What is it about the painting?’

He pointed behind me. ‘Maybe you should look behind you.’

I turned.

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