The house had been abandoned for nearly half century. Its roof was covered by wild ivy. Piles of stones rubble and broken bricks blocked the entrance. The door was unlocked, crying out a loud creak when he pushed it open. He walked passed the main hall, entering the side wing room. Red moonlight lit the room from the cracked windows. He paused a moment then walked into the room, slowly put his steps on the dusty rug.
The room was big, surrounded by dusty air. A bat squeak broke the silence, flying through one of the window. Uneasy, he scanned the room for any danger. He scanned the wall for any sign. There was nothing on the wall but a shattered mirror, radially cracked from its centre. A dark colour was on the centre of the cracked. It was sticky when he touched it. It’s blood. And it’s fresh.
He felt his muscle tensed up. His heart raced, pumping the blood, ready for sudden violent attack. Could it be another one? Was he here to take me in? He had never seen or met anyone from many of its leap. A mirror on the wall proved him that he could be wrong.
I am not the only one, he thought.
She looked at pictures on the wall. One of them was his favourite, as for her. It was a picture of him with their daughters, playing at the park. She could hear his laughter inside her head. She pictured him holding her in his arm. She missed him badly. She rubbed her tears away from her eyes.
I’ll be waiting here, she whispered.
This post was published as response to Daily Prompt challenge. Today’s theme was Wall to Wall.