The Destination

It was darkest first day of spring I had ever seen where the clouds and rain are covering the fields and the howling wind screams in your ears. It just had to be a day like this, didn't it? I see the destination, the one many would never dare to ever enter. The dark, old, rundown, house in isolation right in the middle of a large dead field. I take a small step onto the wet knee-high grass and the mulching mud underneath my shoes feels as if I am being sucked into the ground. As I walk each small step with a tremor in my legs, my heart is beating faster than the speed of light. 

The fear inside of me jumps to conclusions as I get closer to the house. Reminding me of why I came here, to find my past. I am Genna and I lost my family in a car accident 4 years ago... well that’s what I was told. I could never let anyone see that something was bothering me my whole life, when I came out of the hospital they broke the news that I lost my memory, but I always have this specific house in my mind. The dark old house with broken glass windows in a large field of grass. It is the only thing I remember from previous years. My mind always bothers me about it, why would this house even be in my memory? Well, there is only one way to find out. To go in... 

I’m ready to retreat as soon as I have the tiniest peek inside, but I must go in. I slowly open the door with the loose rusty handle. I stand outside praying that nothing bad will happen to myself when the wind slams the door in my face, I flinch in shock but go back to open the tall door. I step in, the floorboards creak under each step, the noise of silence and the wild wind howling, in the corner of my eye I see something black and blurry that disappears in a blink of an eye. The stench of dead bodies and rotten eggs fill the air. The feeling of angst inside me, stuttering as I fear I am not alone but watched.  

The sound of quiet footsteps and heavy breathing behind me, I dare not look behind. I keep walking forward towards a rustic, old table. I reach for a small dusty, picture frame and I lose my balance, my hand reaches out to catch my fall but I quietly scream in agony as I feel a sharp pain running through my veins, as soon as I realize that shattered glass has penetrated my soft delicate skin. But wait, the photo... it looks familiar, it’s right on the tip of my tongue like, MUM and DAD, wait what? Something isn’t right around here. I take the picture out of the frame and slip it into my back pocket of my loosely fitted jeans.

I go in search of any tap or running water where I could wash my wound, as I find a small slip of paper on a small cushioned chair. As I am in pain, I quickly put it in my pocket to read later, I run quicker and quicker as I lose more blood. I find a small first aid room and rush towards the sink, the water takes longer than usual to come out but when it did it was a dirty brown colour. I had no choice but to use whatever was coming out of the pipes. The stinging sensation was all I could think about for a few seconds, then I grabbed an old long piece of material to tightly wrap my wound to stop the blood.

Loud metal clanks just a few rooms down the dark, narrow hallway. I carefully tiptoe my way towards the loud noise. Reaching for the door handle I slowly pull the knob towards me the rusty hinges haven’t been taken care of... and CRASH as the heavy door piles on top of me. A deep voice echoes of each quite wall of the old house. Lifting the door with all my strength and might. I prepare what I have gotten myself into. The dark figure in the corner of the room limps towards me, slowly I start to see his face emerge in the dim light. 

My jaw dropped at what I saw next. My dad was standing right in front of me, the one that I was told had died in a car accident 4 years ago. I smile as I run towards him for a loving warm hug as he wraps his arms around me. He must not have showered in years as all the dirt on his rough dry skin reeks so bad. While thinking about all the things we could do together he walks off as he is doing some work. 

I take out the note I had found before and read through it, my dad must have written stories as it seemed quite realistic about how there was a young boy with a disorder that made him do things he didn't want to do. When we get out of here, I'm going to show him all the nice beaches, we will play board games and write stories every day. After my father finishes his work, he walks towards me, I run up to him to give him yet another great big, loving hug when he stabs me with his sharp, metal knife and he whispers in my ear, 

“You were never meant to be here.” as he laughs as loud and threatening as a hyena.  

“I am a young boy with a disorder that makes me do things I don't want to do” He softly whispers.

My dad goes on to tell me that I was distant from him as I was sent away because they were abusive towards me and my sister, who had committed suicide because she couldn't take the abuse anymore. My mother died while my father was recklessly driving, while I was left alone with major injuries and memory loss.

I slowly and quietly wimp as I slowly lose myself and go to join my family. 

By Mae-Lee Shipton