Jessica Pollock's Short Story: Home

Prologue - Jessica

The windows of the old house next to Jessica Pollock’s were smashed and the garden was overgrown with weeds. There were rumours about it at school. Some said that if you entered the bathroom a woman’s body lay there. Some said it’s home to a crazy man of one hundred and thirty four, who has never left the household. Jessica, a timid, anxious girl of fourteen was the only one who could peer out of her window and see that awful place someone used to call home. If Jessica squinted, and had just the right position of the sun so it shone further than the yellowing windows and the vines and ivy that crept up those walls, she saw the remains of a girl’s bedroom.

Ripped, mouldy sheets could once have been a baby pink. The peeling wallpaper was matching the bedcovers. A small, yet quaint table could be spotted resting to the left of the small bed, but had seen better days, as it was lying on its side. One cupboard door was forcefully torn from the wall and laying on the carpet that would have once in another lifetime been white and soft, but the spotlessness was now long gone. The other was open, revealing some unusual petticoats and bows. In the year two thousand and twenty seven no
Rumour had it the mayor had ordered construction workers to knock it down but were killed in the process. Jessica thought this completely and utterly mad. She simply thought the house was old, and the people whom owned the house has passed away before selling it. Jessica seemed to be the only living being in the big neighbourhood who thought that it was just a normal house. Even I, the person telling you this story, knew there was something eerie about this household. Someday she would drop by this house, to prove everyone wrong. Someday, but not that day. Little did Jessica know… she wouldn’t visit the house, the house would pay a visit to