The Lonely Life
You were my favourite
Peering inside the murky room, I opened the door. It was empty, other than for an old, battered chair, a table with a cup, and a pair of beige, dusty slippers. I breathed a sigh of relief. There’s nothing here I told myself. So why are you so scared? another voice interjected. This, however, was not the voice of my conscience, but another altogether. Was I hearing things? Surely it wasn’t an actual voice?! My brain flew into overdrive and my heart began to beat faster. I’m scared in my own home! My palm began to sweat. But why? Who’s going to hurt you? The voice cried out, surging pain through my head. “You are!” I exclaimed, slamming the door behind me as I ran out of the room. I didn’t enter it again, I was too proud to admit there was something there, until that fateful day, three years later….
My boyfriend ran down the stairs, clutching at a letter. “I got in!!” he screamed. I was so proud of him for trying to get in on the course. It was a course about psychology, and it was a heartfelt subject in our house. He would be moving into halls of residency at Durham University, leaving me at home to bring up our toddler Miranda. “When does it start?” I mumbled, suddenly not wanting him to leave. “Next week. I’ll have to leave here by Wednesday to get everything ready and moved in. Gah, the room’s more like a cupboard than a room!” at that moment I knew when he left something bad would happen, and I felt my stomach clench tightly.
As he left, my heart sank, and I wandered about my house aimlessly, then, without realising, I walked into that room. The one that made me shudder. As though a cold breeze swept the room, the door slammed shut, and I nervously paced the room. Where have you been? The voice demanded. Why have you not come here for so long? I mumbled incoherently about bringing up a child, why on earth I was talking to it though I do not know. It felt as though something was taking over in my head and there was a thick fog I couldn’t seem to clear from my vision. I stumbled, trying to locate the door; it was nowhere to be found. I was drowning, drowning in my own memories, and I couldn’t stop it. “Mummy, why are you lying on the floor?” I looked around to see Miranda next to me, only she didn’t look like Miranda any more. Her face was warped, and she was talking in a man’s voice. I shrieked, as her teeth grew pointy and she brought that twisted face near to mine.
“Where am I?” I grumbled, my body ached so badly. “We don’t know, something’s happened to your neck, if you’d care to look?” A doctor spoke kindly, I opened my eyes, but I saw no reflection, but then the light hit me.
R.I.P Jennie Taylor, beloved girlfriend and mother of Miranda.
My boyfriend ran down the stairs, clutching at a letter. “I got in!!” he screamed. I was so proud of him for trying to get in on the course. It was a course about psychology, and it was a heartfelt subject in our house. He would be moving into halls of residency at Durham University, leaving me at home to bring up our toddler Miranda. “When does it start?” I mumbled, suddenly not wanting him to leave. “Next week. I’ll have to leave here by Wednesday to get everything ready and moved in. Gah, the room’s more like a cupboard than a room!” at that moment I knew when he left something bad would happen, and I felt my stomach clench tightly.
As he left, my heart sank, and I wandered about my house aimlessly, then, without realising, I walked into that room. The one that made me shudder. As though a cold breeze swept the room, the door slammed shut, and I nervously paced the room. Where have you been? The voice demanded. Why have you not come here for so long? I mumbled incoherently about bringing up a child, why on earth I was talking to it though I do not know. It felt as though something was taking over in my head and there was a thick fog I couldn’t seem to clear from my vision. I stumbled, trying to locate the door; it was nowhere to be found. I was drowning, drowning in my own memories, and I couldn’t stop it. “Mummy, why are you lying on the floor?” I looked around to see Miranda next to me, only she didn’t look like Miranda any more. Her face was warped, and she was talking in a man’s voice. I shrieked, as her teeth grew pointy and she brought that twisted face near to mine.
“Where am I?” I grumbled, my body ached so badly. “We don’t know, something’s happened to your neck, if you’d care to look?” A doctor spoke kindly, I opened my eyes, but I saw no reflection, but then the light hit me.
R.I.P Jennie Taylor, beloved girlfriend and mother of Miranda.