Yet another – Part 2 of my Short Story

We left off  right as our main character found out that someone had broken into her house. She leaves to investigate.

…The door swung open, and I stepped onto the dusty linoleum floor. It was peeling up at the corners of the room. The walls used to be a bright blue, but now they were dingy gray in spots. I peered around the corner of the empty room. My voice echoed as I cleared my throat. The floor creaked when I tried to head toward the next room, so I decided to go upstairs. The stairs felt like they were going to collapse underneath me. As I made my way around the hallway, I took a right and came to a room. It was painted pale green, with white trim. There was a dusky brown bed with a pale yellow bedspread, and the nightstand in the corner of the room had a dark gray lamp with a light gray shade. It was resting on a doily. On the wall was a framed photo of a little girl wearing a hat. It looked like it was painted over with watercolors.


There was a vase of dead flowers sitting on a small table in the corner. I walked closer to get a better look, and the floor creaked. Closer, and the floor creaked again. And again. As I took one more step, the wood started to splinter. One more fateful step, and the wood broke. I started falling. Those five seconds were the worst in my whole life. It was a 10-foot free-fall onto hard linoleum floor. I felt like all the food in my stomach would come up. Then I landed, and everything went black.


I awoke to see myself in a room where the walls were painted a pale gray, and the bed that I was lying in was made of sturdy, dark wood. I tried to sit up, but my leg started to throb. I gradually laid back down, the pain in my leg easing up. I closed my eyes, trying to remember where I was. I fell, and here I was.

Someone knelt over me. In a hushed tone, they whispered, “Here is some water.” I propped myself up, knowing that I wouldn’t be leaving anytime soon. As I leaned forward, someone handed me the glass of water. I took it, my eyes showing my gratitude. The sip of water that I took felt refreshing. It was crisp and clean, not having been left out on a table overnight. I closed my eyes once again, and fell asleep.


I was shaken awake by unfamiliar hands. I opened my eyes to the unfamiliar surroundings. I asked what year it was. I must’ve been crazy. I knew that it was November in 2017, but I asked anyway. The answer shocked me.

“November 4th, 1857”



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