Abandoned

The mist rose off the pavement and hovered before a speeding car sped through the ghostly illusion. It was as if time had forgotten the old town with its Spanish moss trees outlining the perimeter like sentries warning strangers to stay away.

Fia wondered if she should turn the car around and forget about this godforsaken place. What was once a beautiful southern town appeared to be an abandoned village. The painted slats, weathered by time, fell into disrepair. Peeling paint and broken windows stirred the unease she felt.

She pulled her truck to the side of the road, opened the door, and listened as the rusty hinges sang their haunted lullaby, sending shivers down her spine. Thoughts of fleeing bombarded her memories, but she refused to give in to the fear strangling her heart.

Sliding down, her feet landed in the muddy earth. She forced herself to place one foot in front of the other as she walked toward number 43.

The house had an air of superiority about it, compared to the surrounding dilapidated structures, but it wasn’t far behind its neighbors.

The pink paint faded into a grayish color, bleached by a thousand summer days. Flowers, once manicured and adored, turned to wild weeds that terrorized the remnants of the sidewalk and driveway.

Green grass faded to brown blades adorned with plastic toys, now brittle from their abandoned stations.

Memories of sweet tea and laughter floated past as Fia stood in the middle of the yard, unable to continue her journey forward. Her courage faded; she wouldn’t cross the threshold today, unwilling to face the monsters hiding within those old walls.

Tender moments couldn’t erase the night the town was driven to madness over a lie. A fib meant to protect one, pitted family against family, father against son, and friends became foes.

Closing her eyes, she remembered the screams, the voices begging for mercy, as she hid under the floorboards. She stuffed her sleeve in her mouth to keep from screaming as she listened to the gunshots throughout the night.

When morning came, she awoke to footsteps above her. Voices called her name, but she was safe, hidden in her secret place, where she stayed until hunger overtook her fears.

Emerging from safety, she grabbed food and hid again. Days turned to weeks, but she remained hidden from the monsters lurking outside for months, fearing what might happen if they found her.

Wiping away her tears, Fia was startled by a rustling sound, a few yards away. A rabbit hopped from the bushes, unaware of the ghosts that haunt this place.

If only life hadn’t scarred her, perhaps she would have kept her innocence, but the violence of the night stole everything from her. Based on her clammy hands and pounding heart, time hadn’t healed her wounds.

The night the police found her, they took her to the hospital and asked her questions, but she refused to speak.

Binding herself to a silent prison, she was a shell of the happy child. Years passed before she found her voice again, as healing slowly began.

The events of that night remained a mystery until she was old enough to research the archives at her local library.

A lie sparked a war between families.

It destroyed a village when two boys committed a crime and lied to protect themselves.

When the truth came out, accusations flew, guns rang out, and innocent blood flowed.

She was the sole survivor, but her innocence died that day.

Walking back to her truck, she hopped in and sat with her head against the steering wheel. She’d try again next year.

Perhaps then she’ll be able to enter the house and slay her demons.

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