Status: Layout fixed. Enjoy~!
A Cursed Family Name
His Story
Let’s face it; everyone has heard of the Winchester house. At least, most everyone has. If you haven't, well, then let’s just say it's one of those mysterious places on Earth. Basically, a couple was to keep building onto their estate or else the spirits of the unfortunate who died by the means of the Winchester rifle would haunt them and they would soon join the dead. What most don't know is that there was an artist, Edward Hopper, who painted a picture of what the house used to look like, well, before they added all those ludicrous contraptions. He called it, "A House by A Road", and nobody suspected a thing. He was their daughter's lover until she died at a young age. He begged and pleaded with the family that they were making a grave mistake, that the idea was absurd to begin with. This is his story.
Today, I was leaving town. I’m finally of age and can begin my journey towards being a successful artist like I’ve always dreamed. Everyone says I’m not going to make it, that I’ll fail before I turn twenty-one and have to resort to going back to the life all these fools have; farming. I want more than just being an agriculturist and marry the typical housewife.
I’ve already got myself a stallion, a beauty he is. He was born on my father’s land by a mustang and I raised him myself. Waving goodbye to my parents and some local acquaintances, I set off towards the west. I lived in a small settlement, no real major companies or ideas. We were never mentioned on any map, consisting of barely thirty people. Others like me have ventured off to try to make it big but I’ve yet to hear of any accomplishments from those, but that could just be because news travels as fast as a slug in these parts.
“Hey! Eddie! Wait up!” Dusty Lambert, my childhood best friend called.
“Oh, hello Dusty, how are you?”
“Is it true?”
“Is what true?” Confusion swept over my emotions like a tidal wave. What on earth was Dusty talking about?
“That you’re leaving to get famous.” I thought I’d already talked to him about this, and besides, everyone knows.
“Yes, it is. I thought everyone knew?”
“Yeah, that’s true I suppose but everyone else is saying you just wanted attention and you aren’t really leaving.”
“Well, I am, I can assure you there. I’ll see you later, Dusty, and I’ll make sure to visit from time to time.”
By nightfall, I’d trekked many miles and setting up camp was now an issue. The tent wouldn’t open right and my fire was slowly diminishing. Three cities I’ve passed through, and never thought to stop for the evening in one of them, figured I could use the money for food and resources when I needed them most. The smell of salt was apparent though, the ocean was close by; my destination nearly reaching its end so soon and already inspiration was bubbling inside of me with all the newfound landscapes and nature at its most gorgeous.
Oh, I wonder what I’ll find by the sea! Perhaps there will be trees, or maybe it’ll all be open terrain. Fatigue was creeping into my mind and I lost consciousness and only did I awaken when the sunlight hit my eyelids.
Mounting Shadow, my horse, I was off another day survived. Around an hour into the trip I could hear the crashing of waves and the breeze of the ocean. Up ahead though, was a white house. It was beautiful, but it wasn’t the home that caught my attention; no it was the girl that was running through the field being chased by a dog. Immediately my lips tugged upwards in a smile at the sight, she was very pretty with brown hair and a long white skirt and blouse.
“Hello, my name is Edward Hopper. I’ve traveled a long ways; may I stay in your home for the night, Miss?”
A blush covered her face instantly. “Let me fetch my mother and father, but please call me Annie, Annie Winchester. You may come along if you like,” a soft, velvety sound rose from my lips in utter astonishment, her voice was beautiful.
“Mother, father, this is Edward Hopper. He’s asked to stay the night.”
“Well of course he can. My name is Sarah Winchester, dear, and this is my husband Will.”
Supper was extravagant, a finely roasted turkey and vegetables, even if the conversation a little awkward.
“So, son, what brings you to western California?”William questions me, cutting into his meat delicately and politely; a sure sign of being born with a silver spoon in his mouth. This made me a little cautious, but I’ve then again I’ve already violated some of my boundaries just by being here; you can never be too vigilant.
“I wish to become an artist; it’s been my dream for as long as I can remember. I was hoping that the beaches might help some motivation come about and make myself known. I’ve sold some paintings already but no more than five.”
“Where are you from?” A meek voice speaks up beside me; Annie.
“No city or town that you’ve heard of. I know in a town of thirty people there is very little doubt in making a lifestyle any more delightful than of a mere farmer.” My reply was simple, perhaps a tad lengthy but simple enough; or at least reasonable enough.
Over the next several months, I grew close with their family and was there for Annie when her folks went to a psychic and was cursed with a never-ending construction site for a home. Ghosts have always been something people have feared, no matter what time frame. It was then that I painted their home as it was to begin with and weeks flew by before it was finished but by then Annie was gone and I edited her out of the photo not being able to bear her being in there. Silent tears paraded down my face that day, I was going to propose, and I’d asked William and had the ring.
The freshly cut red roses were in my arms and I entered the estate. It was eerily quiet. “Annie? Are you here?” A startled gasp escaped my lungs as I saw her body lying motionless on the floor.
“Annie! Are you alright?” No response came. Her pulse was nonexistent; like her heart never had made a single beat. Annie was dead.
Doctors and police men rushed to the scene. Questions flew in every direction.
“Did you do this young man?” “Who did this?” “What was the scene like when you got here?” “Do you know who would’ve done this?”
Her body had lain battered and broken at the end of the stairs, suspected to have been pushed but is possible that she could’ve simply fallen. She bled to death before anyone could save her.
I busily added paint over her body on the canvas desperately attempting to cover her body from the picture. This estate was definitely haunted.
The saddest day of my life was losing the daughter of the Winchester’s but the saddest moment was when I grew famous and known for my painting skills on the home. My dream came true based on a nightmare, the darkest lapse of time in my life.
Today, I was leaving town. I’m finally of age and can begin my journey towards being a successful artist like I’ve always dreamed. Everyone says I’m not going to make it, that I’ll fail before I turn twenty-one and have to resort to going back to the life all these fools have; farming. I want more than just being an agriculturist and marry the typical housewife.
I’ve already got myself a stallion, a beauty he is. He was born on my father’s land by a mustang and I raised him myself. Waving goodbye to my parents and some local acquaintances, I set off towards the west. I lived in a small settlement, no real major companies or ideas. We were never mentioned on any map, consisting of barely thirty people. Others like me have ventured off to try to make it big but I’ve yet to hear of any accomplishments from those, but that could just be because news travels as fast as a slug in these parts.
“Hey! Eddie! Wait up!” Dusty Lambert, my childhood best friend called.
“Oh, hello Dusty, how are you?”
“Is it true?”
“Is what true?” Confusion swept over my emotions like a tidal wave. What on earth was Dusty talking about?
“That you’re leaving to get famous.” I thought I’d already talked to him about this, and besides, everyone knows.
“Yes, it is. I thought everyone knew?”
“Yeah, that’s true I suppose but everyone else is saying you just wanted attention and you aren’t really leaving.”
“Well, I am, I can assure you there. I’ll see you later, Dusty, and I’ll make sure to visit from time to time.”
By nightfall, I’d trekked many miles and setting up camp was now an issue. The tent wouldn’t open right and my fire was slowly diminishing. Three cities I’ve passed through, and never thought to stop for the evening in one of them, figured I could use the money for food and resources when I needed them most. The smell of salt was apparent though, the ocean was close by; my destination nearly reaching its end so soon and already inspiration was bubbling inside of me with all the newfound landscapes and nature at its most gorgeous.
Oh, I wonder what I’ll find by the sea! Perhaps there will be trees, or maybe it’ll all be open terrain. Fatigue was creeping into my mind and I lost consciousness and only did I awaken when the sunlight hit my eyelids.
Mounting Shadow, my horse, I was off another day survived. Around an hour into the trip I could hear the crashing of waves and the breeze of the ocean. Up ahead though, was a white house. It was beautiful, but it wasn’t the home that caught my attention; no it was the girl that was running through the field being chased by a dog. Immediately my lips tugged upwards in a smile at the sight, she was very pretty with brown hair and a long white skirt and blouse.
“Hello, my name is Edward Hopper. I’ve traveled a long ways; may I stay in your home for the night, Miss?”
A blush covered her face instantly. “Let me fetch my mother and father, but please call me Annie, Annie Winchester. You may come along if you like,” a soft, velvety sound rose from my lips in utter astonishment, her voice was beautiful.
“Mother, father, this is Edward Hopper. He’s asked to stay the night.”
“Well of course he can. My name is Sarah Winchester, dear, and this is my husband Will.”
Supper was extravagant, a finely roasted turkey and vegetables, even if the conversation a little awkward.
“So, son, what brings you to western California?”William questions me, cutting into his meat delicately and politely; a sure sign of being born with a silver spoon in his mouth. This made me a little cautious, but I’ve then again I’ve already violated some of my boundaries just by being here; you can never be too vigilant.
“I wish to become an artist; it’s been my dream for as long as I can remember. I was hoping that the beaches might help some motivation come about and make myself known. I’ve sold some paintings already but no more than five.”
“Where are you from?” A meek voice speaks up beside me; Annie.
“No city or town that you’ve heard of. I know in a town of thirty people there is very little doubt in making a lifestyle any more delightful than of a mere farmer.” My reply was simple, perhaps a tad lengthy but simple enough; or at least reasonable enough.
Over the next several months, I grew close with their family and was there for Annie when her folks went to a psychic and was cursed with a never-ending construction site for a home. Ghosts have always been something people have feared, no matter what time frame. It was then that I painted their home as it was to begin with and weeks flew by before it was finished but by then Annie was gone and I edited her out of the photo not being able to bear her being in there. Silent tears paraded down my face that day, I was going to propose, and I’d asked William and had the ring.
The freshly cut red roses were in my arms and I entered the estate. It was eerily quiet. “Annie? Are you here?” A startled gasp escaped my lungs as I saw her body lying motionless on the floor.
“Annie! Are you alright?” No response came. Her pulse was nonexistent; like her heart never had made a single beat. Annie was dead.
Doctors and police men rushed to the scene. Questions flew in every direction.
“Did you do this young man?” “Who did this?” “What was the scene like when you got here?” “Do you know who would’ve done this?”
Her body had lain battered and broken at the end of the stairs, suspected to have been pushed but is possible that she could’ve simply fallen. She bled to death before anyone could save her.
I busily added paint over her body on the canvas desperately attempting to cover her body from the picture. This estate was definitely haunted.
The saddest day of my life was losing the daughter of the Winchester’s but the saddest moment was when I grew famous and known for my painting skills on the home. My dream came true based on a nightmare, the darkest lapse of time in my life.