Dreary

The driveway was dark and decrypted. Leaves covered every nook and cranny of the yard. The darkness around didn't help much either as the only light visible was from my faulty headlights. I slowly walked up to the front door and coincidental enough it was locked. Feeling like I had no other choice, I scurried around to see if Aunt Genevieve would have hidden the key somewhere. Still couldn't find it though.

Hopping off the porch, I made my way to the back where the basement is. Walking behind the house I heard faint rustling in the woods and craven noises that I couldn't quite apprehend. The more time I took to struggle to find a way in, the closer these noises sounded; In a last-ditch effort, I broke through the glass to unlock the door- I'm not that worried as I can easily replace the glass. As I tip-toed through the shifty basement, I searched around for a light switch. The darkness down there wasn't your regular darkness; It was desolate, empty, soulless and barren. It felt like my warmth was just ripped right out of me; The room started to make me depressed. Finally getting to the switch, I hesitantly flicked it on. Usually when something like that happens, some freakish ghoul crawls off the ceiling and kills you in an abnormal manner.

The rest of the house was absolutely beautiful; The living room had a stunning fireplace centered against the wall, and it was filled with aromas like pine and cinnamon- I love the wintery scents, so I was practically falling in love. The kitchen was very surprising too, it was actually updated. The mahogany cabinets contrast the black appliances' in an orderly style. The bedrooms were marvels too; The master bedroom definitely stole the show, there was a huge comfy bed and in the front of the room stood a huge, flat-screen tv. The bathroom in there complimented the master bedrooms' etiquette perfectly. A huge Jacuzzi bathtub was situated next to a glass shower and I thought it was just crazy how a house with a wilted exterior presented itself so exceptionally on the inside.

That night I slept like a log.

The next morning, I dragged myself out of bed and made my way out to town. After breakfast at this 50's style dinner, I went to the hardware store to see if they could make a key for my new house and finally, I spent a few hours shopping for groceries and some general things that are definitely necessary. The maintenance guy from the hardware followed me back to my house to see if he could make another key- which thankfully he was able to! He then followed me to the back and fixed my glass too.

We made some small talk in the process; He said this house has seen quite a lot in its time- I believed it. He proceeded to tell me about my Aunt I never really knew; He said she was quite admired throughout the town. She was evidently the town librarian and everyone supposedly knew her.

After he left, I plopped straight towards the couch. I sunk in like an oxen stampede through quicksand- slowly but deadly. The words to Dangerous Lies began to fade and cascade through the depths of my mind. I felt drowsy beyond belief and drifted away into a sleep like on from Snow White. All of the sudden I fell into a transition: Half awake, Half asleep. I felt a brisk breeze scrape against my leg but my body wouldn't react. I was in a haze, a deep horrifying haze. I was in the pit of a nightmare that I just couldn't wake up from. One final blundering gust threw me right out of the despair. I was wide awake. All that I was left with was a deep and throbbing headache- a reminder of the gale that wrecked my slumber.

I peered across the room to the freshly stocked cabinets; the fresh herbs, gamey meats and the luscious vegetables called out to my inner lioness, I was to pounce after the wounded impala. I dragged myself to the kitchen, brought out a pan, dabbled some butter in it and threw on a plump chicken thigh. I also added some finely chopped thyme and rosemary to the buttered chicken. The aromas filled up the kitchen and circled around me like a loose compass.

The chicken was sensational. I threw my plate in the sink, rinsed off a little and plopped on the couch again. This time I was going over some reports from work. I usually just validate financial reports from the company I work for.

(Crack)

(Shatter)

I suddenly threw myself up and twitched my eyes in all sorts of directions. The sound echoed from downstairs. I slowly creeped around the corner; Turned the handle around slowly and opened the door ever so slightly. My hand searched for the light and I switched it on. I trotted down the stairs and then looked around and saw a glass gallon container shattered on the cement floor from a faulty shelf. The shelf hung from a single screw on the left side. Behind the shelf was something flashy smashed between the putty of the cement-block wall. I laced my finger through the hole and pulled the key-like object out. But it wasn't a key.

It was a long gold stick with a ruby red glass heart at the end of it. But nothing else came with it. I walked back up the stairs and dug through the utility closet for a broom and dust pan. I cleaned up the shattered glass and found something else that caught my attention, a single ripped up note with a wonky symbol traced on it, and two initials, G.S.

Later on I found myself down my very own rabbit hole. The Circle was on, one of my favorite reality shows on Netflix. I absolutely love Miranda, her beauty and personality reflects this holy radiance that you just can't miss. After casually watching a few episodes and finishing a work powerpoint, I made cookies. I pulled out an ancient green tin with faded pieces of parchment corroded with scribbles and little marks that were too tough to read unless you were a few inches away from them. Following through the list, I added flour, a few cups of sugar, some eggs, a dash of salt and a few sprigs of cinnamon. My grandma loved her recipes, she was always so organized and meticulous, she never had to worry about forgetting anything because she had archives right at her fingertips. It never surprised me though because she was a head librarian, practically the gatekeeper at the Library of Alexandria.