Fishville #3


Courtesy of, copyright & royalty free photo source.


She sank down onto the stairs that twisted up to the second floor and let the tears come. This was her home, now, complete with the memories and the obvious disrepair.

Built at the turn of the twentieth century, the house had been a prominent home for a very wealthy doctor and his family. The small, squalid addition had been his office. Now, the walls were peeling paint and plaster. The once richly polished woodwork was dull and scratched. Many of the staircase’s banister legs were missing or broken. And everything was covered in inches of dust and rodent droppings.

Even as she sat drying her eyes, Kelly could see the red glow of mouse eyes watching her. She shivered, mentally adding traps to the top of her needs list. The house, as it stood, simply was not livable. She heaved a deep sigh. It hadn’t been habitable when she’d lived here twenty years ago, so why did she think it would be so, now.

‘Well, there’s no use crying about it anymore.’ Kelly mumbled, patting the memory chip again. ‘Soon, not today, but soon.’


61 W Xenia Ave

Courtesy of google maps.


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